Fallen Angel: A Jesse McDermitt Novel (Caribbean Adventure Series Book 9) (27 page)

W
atching from the cover of the seagrass bed, I could see the old boat turn and follow after the
Revenge
. A large crowd was gathering around the boardwalk area, quite a few of them in uniform. Using Manny’s cell phone, I called Deuce.

“What the hell possessed you to jump off the bridge?” Deuce asked after he realized it was me.

“Seemed like the thing to do at the time,” I replied. “How are Tony and the others?”

“No injuries,” Deuce replied. “Tony found a bomb in the briefcase, too. He disarmed it.”

“A bomb?” I asked, becoming irritated. I’d already watched the first
Revenge
get blown out of the water by an RPG and it had just now almost happened to the second one.

“It was crude. A couple of sticks of TNT in a box with some nails and a cell phone. Tony said the dynamite was pretty old. Deteriorated and unstable. It’s a wonder it didn’t detonate when he was running with it. He flooded the live well and put the whole thing underwater. No chance it’ll detonate.”

“The redneck on the boat is following,” I said. “But not very fast. From his vantage point, he had to have at least heard the
Revenge
coming out of Battery Creek earlier.”

“I was watching them,” Deuce said. “Three men on an old salvage boat of some kind. Just before casting off, they were joined by a woman.”

“So there’s four of them?”

Deuce chuckled slightly. “No, still only three. One of the men was standing right behind the rocket launcher when the guy fired it. It’s a pretty good bet that he’s dead.”

I winced slightly. The backblast of an RPG launching from a tube could peel the paint off a car. “What do we do now, Deuce?”

“Inform the sheriff. Our job’s done here.”

“Just like that?” I asked, becoming angry. “Somebody shoots a damned RPG at my boat and we’re not doing anything about it?”

There was a pause, then Deuce calmly replied, “That’s right, Jesse. The Ross clan is a problem for the local authorities. I want you to head back to the marina and join up with Art and Andrew. The FBI has Cross in custody. They’ll take him to their field office down in Savannah.”

“Now, wait just a minute, Deuce. You’re gonna let them take credit for everything?”

“Has to be that way, brother. We’re a covert group. Even this little bit of exposure is more than we need. You jumping off a bridge in full view of dozens of civilians who probably caught the whole thing on cell phones is way more publicity than we need.”

“Shit,” I muttered. “I didn’t even think about that. Everyone carries those things now.”

I’d only recently started carrying a cell phone myself. I’d always hated any intrusion on my privacy. If anyone wanted to talk to me that bad, they could come out to my island or wait until I came into town. Since I’d renewed my relationship with my daughters after not being a part of their lives for many years, though, I began to keep closer tabs on where my phone was. They both called at least once a week, Kim usually two or three times. It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t spoken to either one since leaving my island almost a week ago.

“You’re right,” I finally said with a long sigh. “Where’s Andrew and Art now? I’ll join them and get a cab or something back to the house. I’m ready to go home.”

“Head to the fuel dock,” Deuce said. “Turn Damien Ross over to Sheena. She’ll have a sheriff’s deputy take them to the jail for booking. But Cross is going with her and Craig to Savannah. She’ll handle everything with the local authorities, and you guys can head back to the Keys. We’re done there.”

I ended the call and fired up the engine, handing Manny’s phone back to him. “Your boss pulling the plug?” he asked.

“Yeah. He’s turning everything over to the Bureau. Can your CO cut you adrift for the rest of the day? Be nice to catch up on things over a coupla cold beers, before we have to leave.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he’d have a problem with it. No recruits on the range for a couple of days.”

I brought the skiff up on plane, wincing with every bump in the water. A few minutes later, I slowed the boat, reversed the engine, and spun the wheel, bringing the skiff alongside the fuel dock as Manny tossed a line to a waiting deputy.

Sheena was standing beside two EMTs with a stretcher. She was smiling. “That was some crazy stunt,” she said. “We could have had a deputy run him down.”

“Yeah, but he’d have been able to call his cousin. You have people on the way to pick him up?”

“The sheriff is handling it,” Sheena replied. “How long’s that one been out?” she asked, pointing to the unconscious Damien Ross, lying on the deck.

“Pretty much since I hit him in the water,” I lied, figuring that would be acceptable. I didn’t want Sheena to know that I’d cold-cocked him again afterwards. She had a pretty straight and narrow view, where these turd fondlers’ rights were concerned. My own view wasn’t so rigid.

Manny helped the deputy get Ross out of the boat, where he was loaded onto the waiting stretcher and they wheeled him away.

“That doesn’t look good,” Sheena said, pointing at my right leg. “Next time, you might want to use your head. Less chance of injury that way.”

I grinned as I stepped up beside her on the dock. “Are you heading to Savannah right away?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “Duty calls. We got him stone cold, Jesse. The video and recording have already been sent to our office and charges filed. Two counts of conspiracy to commit murder. He’s going away for a long time. If you ever find yourself in Atlanta, give me a call.”

“If you ever find yourself in the Keys,” I replied.

Sheena turned and followed after the deputy and EMTs. I had to admit the idea of a trip to Atlanta might be fun. I just wasn’t sure if there was a deep enough river to get there.

Manny and I found Andrew and Art when we got to the shore end of the pier. They were waiting beside a cab, at the west side of the parking lot, where tourists were loading onto a horse-drawn carriage.

The four of us jammed ourselves into the big taxi, and Andrew told the driver where to go. The ride was short and when we got to the house, Tony was waiting outside with the two DEA guys. Keenan and Dannell said they had to shove off, and we exchanged handshakes before they left.

In the house, Finn trotted kind of sideways toward me and sat down, cocking his head to one side. I knelt and scratched behind both his ears. Chyrel was at the table in front of her computer, Chrissy next to her, with Pat looking over their shoulders, waiting.

“Are you sure you want to hear what he says?” Chyrel asked the young girl. “We got him dead to rights. He’s already been charged and will be going to prison for a long time.”

Chrissy nodded as the five of us approached the table. “Yes, I need to hear it with my own ears.”

The image on the screen was frozen. Nick Cross and Tony were facing one another, both in profile. Tony was holding the briefcase. Chyrel looked up at Pat, who nodded. Then she moved the cursor to the play button and clicked it.

Tony began speaking first, his voice sounding tinny over the computer’s speakers. “I and I can make it real slow, if yuh want, mon. Or, jest a fahty-five to di heads and toss dem in di ocean.”

Nick’s head turned slowly, as if checking to see if anyone could hear. “I don’t give a rat’s ass how you do it,” he said, turning back to face Tony. “Just kill them both and make sure they stay dead this time.”

Chyrel clicked the stop button as Pat put a gentle hand on her granddaughter’s shoulder. At first I thought the girl was going to cry. Her eyes moistened a little, but she appeared to suck it up as she looked up at her grandmother.

“What’s going to happen to me?” Chrissy asked.

Pat bent and hugged the girl. “You’ll come and live with me.”

“But where?” Chrissy asked. “You said he could get to us from wherever they take him.”

“Prison,” Pat said. “They’re taking him to prison. Where I hope he rots. I hear inmates don’t take much of a liking to people who hurt kids. Did you like that little lagoon we were at in the Bahamas? Where Mister Patterson lives? He said we were welcome to come back and stay there.”

This surprised me, but when I thought about it, the idea didn’t seem so ridiculous after all. Henry had spent his whole lifetime helping others.

“Yeah,” Chrissy replied. “Can we go there?”

Pat looked up at me expectantly. I looked over at Andrew, who nodded. “If you fly, you’ll leave a paper trail,” I said. “Give Chyrel the rest of the day and she’ll have new identities for both of you. We’ll leave first thing in the morning and be there by noon the next day.”

Cross’s briefcase lay open on the table, the money he’d paid to have his family murdered stacked neatly inside it. “That will give you a start,” I said to Pat. “More than enough to last you until you can move your money through an offshore account and hide it.”

“The bulk of it’s already in accounts in Zurich and Nassau,” she replied. “We don’t want anything to do with his money. Can you take it?”

“I know a trust it can be donated to,” I replied. “It’s set up to help underprivileged kids.”

“That’d be nice,” Chrissy said. “Is it okay if I go down to the boat and take a nap? I’m really tired.”

“We have to do some maintenance on the boat before we leave,” I said. “Why don’t you grab your and Pat’s things and bring them up to the house, while she helps Chyrel. Y’all can take the master bedroom.”

A
ndrew stayed at the house with the girls. It’d been a long day already and he wanted to cook. That’s how the big man liked to unwind. He said he’d call us when supper was ready. We planned to eat early and turn in, so everyone would be fresh for the long run back down to Andros Island.

For the next several hours, with Manny, Tony and Art helping, we cleaned strainers, replaced filters, and filled the water tank from a garden hose, and I took the time to change the oil in both engines. Tony got on my laptop and started checking the weather between South Carolina and the Bahamas. He reported that although there would be some wind off the coast of Jacksonville, there weren’t any storms mentioned.

Manny and I talked about old times while we worked in the engine room. He filled me in on who’d retired and who’d transferred to where.

“Tank finally retired,” Manny said.

Master Gunnery Sergeant Owen Tankersley had been a legend in the Marine Corps for four decades. He’d earned the Medal of Honor in Vietnam and was there for my retirement ceremony nine years ago. At the time, he was the only active-duty Medal of Honor recipient in the Corps. I did the numbers in my head—he had to be sixty years old now.

“About time,” I said. “I guess even Tank couldn’t stop the march of time.”

It was nearly dark when we finished. I told Tony and Art to cast off the lines and we’d run down the creek to the commercial docks to restock supplies for the crossing and get some beer. It’d give me a chance to check the oil pressures and temperatures too. We were back tied up at the dock thirty minutes later.

“You guys go ahead up to the house,” I said. “I’m gonna get cleaned up, then we can drink a couple beers before turning in.”

Once they left, I went down to my stateroom, stripped down, and got in the shower. I’d barely had time to soap up when I heard running footsteps out on the dock and someone jumped down into the cockpit.

“Jesse!” Tony shouted. “We got trouble!”

I shut off the water and grabbed my clean clothes from the bunk. I was still struggling into my shirt, not bothering to dry off first, when Tony burst through the hatch.

“The girls are gone! Andrew’s out cold, man.”

Together, we sprinted up to the house. Tony handed me an earwig and I turned it on while running, shoving it into my ear and pulling the bone mic around the top of my ear.

I could hear Deuce’s voice calmly giving orders. The man was at his best in dicey situations. “Deuce, it’s Jesse,” I said. “What’s going on?”

“Piecing things together now,” Deuce replied.

Tony and I rushed through the back door. Art was helping Andrew to his feet. There was blood on the floor and all down the front of Andrew’s shirt. He’d taken a pretty good beating.

Art picked Andrew’s earwig up from the floor and handed it to him. He groggily put it in his ear and adjusted the bone mic.

“There were six of them,” Andrew said. “Broke down the door and grabbed me, before I could get my weapon out.”

“Travis will be on in a few minutes, Jesse,” Deuce said. “He’s on Capitol Hill. Are you alright, Andrew?”

“Beat up a little,” Andrew grunted. “That weasel Jesse took out was one of them.”

“What?” I roared. “How the hell could he have gotten loose from the sheriff’s deputies?”

“Julie’s here with me,” Deuce said. “She’s working on it. Did they say anything, Andrew?”

Art and Tony helped Andrew to a chair at the dining room table. Chyrel’s computer was still sitting there, but Cross’s briefcase of money was gone.

“The one who seemed to be the leader,” Andrew began. “Really big guy. The others called him Shrimp. He kept asking where the Jamaicans were. I told him I didn’t know anything about any Jamaicans. One of them went out back, and when he returned he told the big guy the boat was gone. I don’t remember much of anything after that.”