Fallen Angel: A Jesse McDermitt Novel (Caribbean Adventure Series Book 9) (13 page)

“No,” Deuce replied. “They work out of Miami. Best I can do on short notice.”

“Their backgrounds are clean,” Travis added, knowing I disliked working with people I didn’t know. “Several commendations each. They were recommended by Acting Administrator Leonhart herself.”

“If they fit the bill physically,” I said, “they’ll have to do.” Deuce’s eyes looked down, and I knew there was something more. “What is it, Deuce?”

“Cross is dirty,” Travis said. “Still, he’s an elected congressman and you’re on his turf there.”

“So?”

“You won’t be on the takedown team, Jesse,” Deuce said, bluntly.

“I wasn’t planning to be,” I replied, noting the surprised look on both their faces. “Look, I just drive you guys around in my boat. Sure, in the past, I’ve done a little more than that. But this guy’s got more money than God. Me being there would just give his attorneys ammo to attack the credibility of the arrest, right?”

“That’s pretty much what we were thinking,” Travis replied.

“Besides,” I said, with a grin, “I have something else to do.”

“What’s that?” both men asked at the same time.

“I’m meeting a lady who wants to give me her dog.” Just saying it out loud made me feel better about taking on the responsibility. “So, what’d you guys come up with for a plan?”

“Tony will play the part of Whyte,” Deuce said. “And the DEA agents will be two of his crew. Both men have strong backgrounds in small-craft operation and very much look the part, as they’ve been working undercover for years.”

“Andrew and Art?”

“They’ll head the takedown team,” Deuce said. “They’ll be backed up by two FBI agents out of the Atlanta field office. The two Feebs got there last night and set up surveillance at Cross’s home. A regular surveillance team is scheduled to relieve them about now. I’ll relay where you are, and you can expect them to come straight to you from there.”

“And I suppose these two FBI guys were recommended by their top boss as well?”

“No,” Deuce replied with a grin. “One of them is an old friend of Sherri’s.” Sherri Fallon is one of Deuce’s operatives. She had been an armorer with Miami/Dade Police and had been recruited for her weapons knowledge. She was also the person responsible for the team members’ role-playing skills, being a stage actress on the side.

“One of the FBI agents is a former Miami/Dade cop,” Deuce continued. “Now FBI Special Agent Sheena Mason. I requested her and she requested her partner, Craig Allen.”

“Chain of command?” I asked.

“Andrew is in charge, overall,” Travis replied. “Art will lead the takedown, with the two FBI agents as backup. Tony’s in charge of the boat, with backup from DEA. Like I said, you’re in Cross’s backyard. His family has lived in the area for several generations. He probably knows it like the back of his hand, on shore and on the water. He’s easily recognizable there and has a lot of supporters. South Carolina law requires us to inform the sheriff, and we will. Just an hour before the takedown, with no more details than that a federal arrest is going to take place at Waterfront Park, and a request to have all uniformed officers out of sight, but keep a couple within a block or two, as redundant backup.”

Just then, my sat phone chirped and I looked at the text message from Andrew. “The FBI is already here,” I said.

“Good,” Travis said. “You and Andrew sit down with them and go over the takedown. They already know you’re acting in an advisory capacity. Call me or Deuce if you need anything.”

“Um,” Chyrel started to say.

“Yes, Miss Koshinski?”

“I was just wondering what kind of surveillance equipment the regular team might have with them. We could use some things that I just don’t have with me and might be hard to find in a small town like this.”

“Relay your request through the FBI agents.”

“Yes sir,” she replied and the screen went blank.

I closed the laptop and stood up. “Guess we should go meet them. What kind of equipment are you needing?”

“Cameras,” Chyrel replied as we stepped out into the cockpit. The sun was fully up and the only sign of the recent storm was the humidity in the air and the clouds moving quickly off to the north. Looking south, down the length of Battery Creek, the sky above was a deep cobalt blue, the storm scrubbing every bit of moisture from the upper atmosphere.

I stepped over the gunwale and helped Chyrel to the dock. “What kind of cameras?”

“High-speed high-res video cameras,” she replied. “Really, really small ones.”

Just then, a deafening roar came from the front of the house and a pair of F-18 Super Hornets thundered overhead in close formation, less than a thousand feet off the deck.

“Holy shit!” Chyrel shouted, ducking instinctively. “What the hell was that noise?”

“The sound of freedom,” I replied, watching the two Marine fighter jets turn and climb, already out over the ocean. “Think a combat camera from one of those would work? I think they’re pretty small.”

E
ntering through the back door, I heard voices coming from the front part of the house. Following the sound, Chyrel and I entered the living room. Tony and Andrew sat in two overstuffed chairs across a small glass table from a couch, on which a man and woman sat. Neither of them looked like FBI agents, more like a thirty-something married couple.

Tony rose from his chair and came toward us. “Jesse, this is Sheena Mason and Craig Allen, with the FBI.” Then, turning to the two FBI agents, he said, “And this is Jesse McDermitt, owner and captain of
Gaspar’s Revenge
.”

The woman stepped out around the low table and extended her hand. She had thick blond hair, past her shoulders, pulled back in a ponytail. She appeared fit and athletic, but it was her eyes that really caught my attention. They were pale blue, like sea ice, and sparkled with an intensity bordering on magic.

“Pleased to meet you, Agent Mason,” I said, taking her hand.

“
Special
Agent Mason,” she said, smiling warmly. “I hope you’ll just call me Sheena, though.”

“And just Craig’s fine,” the other agent said, rising and coming around the table. “The word we got was that you’re a private contractor. Is that right?”

“Something like that,” I replied, shaking Craig’s hand. Then, turning to Chyrel, I said, “This is our IT pro, Chyrel Koshinski.”

The three exchanged handshakes and greetings, and I turned to Andrew. “Where is everyone?”

“Showers,” he replied. “There’s three in this house.”

“Five if you count the
Revenge
,” I said.

“That’s where I’m heading then,” Chyrel said. “Be back in a few minutes.”

I’d noticed that outside of our little group, Chyrel never seemed to interact socially with many people. This always surprised me, as she usually seemed more outgoing than a lot of people.

Sheena sat back down and crossed her legs, her skirt riding up just a little. “I understand that your role in this arrest is strictly advisory?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “And even that’s gonna be limited. I have a few errands to run and will likely just sit right here, while you guys go make the bust.”

“What errands?” Tony asked.

I sat down in another chair, stretching my legs out. “Chyrel said she needs some video cameras. Thought I’d drive over to the air station and see if there are any spare aircraft combat cameras laying around.”

“Just like that?” Sheena asked.

“I know some people,” I offered. “First, I need to go over to Lady’s Island and see someone about a dog.”

“A dog?” Craig asked. “What do we need a dog for?”

“Not for the mission. A friend of a friend has a pup that she needs to find a home for.”

“Mind if I tag along?” Sheena asked. “Craig’s the planner. He can go over the details with Andrew while we’re gone. Our mobile surveillance van has just about any kind of video equipment your IT person might need.”

I shrugged and stood up. “Fine by me. It’ll save me a trip to the air station. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready. Come on down to the dock in a few minutes, we’ll take the boat. I need to refuel and it’ll be faster.”

Leaving them, I went back outside and through the large backyard to where the
Revenge
was tied off, beyond the fence. Chyrel was just coming out of the salon as I stepped down into the cockpit.

“Pretty lady,” she said.

“I guess so,” I lied. “Didn’t really notice.” The truth is, I did notice. She was very attractive. However, my track record with women hasn’t been one that could be called stellar.

“Sure you didn’t,” Chyrel said, grinning and stepping over to the dock.

Ten minutes later, wearing my last pair of clean cargo shorts and a clean but faded,
Rusty Anchor Bar and Grill
tee shirt, I stepped out of my stateroom. Still rubbing my hair with a towel, I made my way aft and up into the salon.

“You don’t look as dangerous as your bio indicates,” Sheena said, lounging on the couch at the aft end of the salon. She had one arm up on the back of the couch and her jacket was open, revealing a well-concealed shoulder holster. The top two buttons of her blouse were also open, revealing well-concealed cleavage as well. My eyes were drawn lower. She wore hard-soled shoes.

“I’m not, I’m just a boat bum,” I replied, then maybe a bit too gruffly, I added, “Unless someone messes up my deck. Take your shoes off.”

Without waiting for a reply, I tossed the towel on the counter and went out the hatch. Climbing quickly up to the bridge, I started both engines. I was about to climb down when Sheena started up the ladder.

“Do you know anything at all about boats?” I asked, stepping back to give her room.

“Sorry about the shoes,” she said. “I didn’t know.” Standing next to me in bare feet, she was half a head shorter than my six-three. “No, I don’t know much at all about boats. Why?”

“I may need help docking when we get to where we’re going.”

“Just tell me what to do,” Sheena said. “I’m a fast and eager learner. Where are we going, anyway?”

Glancing down at the water, I could tell the tide was already falling. The wind was coming out of the east, so the current and wind would move the
Revenge
away from the dock as soon as I tossed off the lines.

“A boat dealership a few miles up Beaufort River,” I replied, starting down the ladder. “Take the seat next to the helm and don’t touch anything.”

In seconds, I slipped the bow line and the wind pushed the big boat’s bow slightly away from the dock. I quickly made my way aft and untied the stern line before climbing back up to the bridge. Drifting away from the dock, I engaged the transmissions and we began to idle down Battery Creek.

Pulling the elastic band that secured her ponytail, Sheena shook out her thick blond hair. “Are you always so talkative?”

“Sorry,” I replied. “Since yesterday morning, we crossed six hundred miles of ocean and another four hundred miles the previous two days, crisscrossing the Caribbean. I’m not usually grumpy.”

Idling under the bridge again, I throttled up a little, following the deepest contours of the creek until we were past Sands Beach. Steering straight out into Beaufort River, I pushed the throttles halfway and the
Revenge
lifted up on plane.

“Wow!” Sheena exclaimed. “Your boat is faster than I thought it would be.”

Without really knowing why, I pushed the throttles to the stops, turning north around the channel marker and heading towards the Lady’s Island bridge. Sheena practically squealed in the seat next to me.

A few minutes later, I throttled back as we approached the high bridge. The big boat settled back into the water at an idle. “Why’d you slow down?” Sheena asked, obviously disappointed. “Are we there?”

I pointed to the small No Wake buoys on either side of the bridge pilings. “No-wake zone. It’s still a few miles further to where we’re going.”

“So how is it faster if you have to slow down for bridges?”

“A lot less traffic,” I replied, watching a cat boat sailing along the shallower water on the east side of the river. “And no stoplights. Plus, we’re staying on an island and going to another island. By car, you’d have to go all the way up and around the marshes that drain into Battery Creek, then drive through downtown Beaufort, and hope you don’t get caught by the swing bridge to Lady’s Island.”

Once clear of the high bridge, I continued to idle until we were well past Port Royal Landing Marina at the foot of the bridge. Throttling up, the
Revenge
lifted back up on plane. Most of this area is still undeveloped, bordered by salt marshes. I kept pretty much to the middle of the river, which minimized the wake that would wash over the reeds. If I kept the
Revenge
in the deeper part of the channel, which ran near shore in some places, I’d have to slow to keep from damaging the marsh. The twenty-foot lines on the chart plotter were wide apart, so the channel wasn’t necessary for the
Revenge
.

I pointed ahead, to the skyline just coming into view. “That’s downtown Beaufort. I’m going to stop and fuel up at the marina there. You guys will arrest Cross right there on the boardwalk, just past the marina, if you want to take a look at it.”