Fallen Honor: A Jesse McDermitt Novel (Caribbean Adventure Series Book 7) (20 page)

“No, boss. It’s a taxicab. But take a look at the two guys that just got out and are going into the same place.”

“Can’t be!” GT yelled, banging on the dash. “That’s the tall guy from that fisherman’s bar yesterday!”

Watching in the mirror, he saw the man who seemed to be the leader of the locals who had disarmed them. He was with another man about the same build but a little shorter. They opened the door of the psychic’s place and disappeared inside. A moment later, someone turned the sign over to
Closed
and pulled the shades down.

GT’s hand moved automatically to where his shoulder holster should have been. He felt naked and vulnerable when he realized nothing was there. “We’ll wait here till they come out.”

A
rriving at the little marina by the Hyatt an hour later, I left the air conditioner and generator running, with plenty of water in Pescador’s bowl. He was already snoozing in the salon. Pescador’s only four or five years old, but already slowing down and showing signs of age, as big dogs do at that age.

Tying off to the dock, Travis and I went up to the parking lot and met my old friend Lawrence at the foot of the pier. Travis had called ahead to the marina to get a slip and I’d called Lawrence for a ride.

“Good ta see yuh again, Cap’n,” the old Bahamian said, pumping my hand. Lawrence had been invaluable some time ago, providing plenty of information about a Miami drug trafficker in Key West who was attempting to smuggle arms and terrorists into the country by boat. I always found cab drivers and bartenders to be very reliable about information.

I leaned in close and whispered, “From now on, Lawrence, I want you to call me Stretch Buchannan and treat me like a big-time cocaine importer from up island. I’ll explain it all when we get in the car.”

Travis put both our go-bags in the backseat and climbed in. I sat up front with Lawrence. “If yuh want me to treat yuh like a druggy, Cap’n, thata mean I treat ya mighty scornful. You be knowing dat, mon.”

I turned sideways in my seat and nodded back toward Travis in back. “Lawrence, this is my friend Travis Stockwell.”

The gray-haired islander turned in his seat and reached a big hand back. “Any friend of Cap’n Jesse’s is a friend to Lawrence. I tink I see you heah in Key West before, Mistuh Travis.”

Stockwell looked at Lawrence a moment then snapped his fingers. “You have a good eye for faces, Lawrence. About a year ago, I was here in town and you took me to a restaurant for dinner.”

Lawrence grinned, showing perfectly straight, big white teeth. “Di Blue Heaven, mon.”

“Yeah, that was the place. Good memory, too.”

Turning back to me, Lawrence said, “Whut dis business about yuh bein’ a druggy, Cap’n?”

“We’re looking for someone. Two big black guys, well dressed, shaved heads.”

Lawrence thought for a moment and said, “Not seen two big black mons togedda, Cap’n, but I seen a mon look jes like dat last night on Duval.”

“Odds are they’d be together, but if you see anyone that looks like that, will you call me? They’re drug dealers from way up north.”

“Miami?”

I chuckled. “Way norther than that. They’re down here from Pittsburgh and have an associate there I’d like to get my hands on. That’s why Travis and I are pretending to be bigshot coke importers from Key Largo, to try to smoke these men out.”

“Ahh, I see, Cap’n. Somebody is movin’ into yuh territory and yuh be here to show dem di error in dere ways?”

“Exactly. You know where Dawn McKenna’s shop, or store, or whatever she calls it is?”

“Yah, mon! But, no way she’s involved wit di druggies. Mizz McKenna a good woman, mon.”

“No, she’s not involved,” I said. “She called me to see if I could help her niece’s boyfriend. The Pittsburgh dealer is looking for him.”

Lawrence put the car in gear and drove out of the hotel parking lot. “Her place is just over on Eaton Street. Be dere in jest two minutes, mon.”

A few minutes later, Lawrence pulled the cab to the curb in front of a small storefront with the name
Madam Dawn’s Psychic Readings
hand-painted on the door’s window.

“Yuh want me ta wait, Cap’n?”

Handing him a twenty, I said, “No, that’s okay. If we need you, I’ll call. But let me know the minute you see these guys.”

Lawrence nodded and pressed the button to put the window up as he pulled away from the curb, maneuvering the big sedan around a Cadillac SUV parked in front of him with dark windows.

When I pulled open the door to Madam Dawn’s, a little bell mounted on it jingled and a blast of cold air hit me in the face. I stepped inside, with Travis right behind me. Dawn was sitting at a table in the corner with an ordinary-looking younger man and a young woman with blond dreadlocks.

Dawn got up and met us at the door, taking my hand. “Thanks for coming, Jesse. I wasn’t sure you would.”

She reached behind me and flipped the sign in the window over to
Closed
and pulled the shades. Then she led us into the small side room, decorated with the usual accoutrements of a psychic reader.

Heavy burgundy drapes over the windows blocked the outside light. A small lamp with a mosaic glass shade provided the only light in the room.

“You’re a psychic and didn’t know if I’d come or not?”

She laughed. Dawn McKenna was a tiny little woman in her late thirties, maybe. Dark hair and dark tan, she could easily pass for a gypsy, though I knew she was of north European descent.

“Being a psychic is more about observing than predicting the future,” she said and waved an arm to the other two. “This is my niece, Coral, and her friend Michal. That’s with no E, isn’t it Michal?”

The young man stood up. “Yeah, but how’d you know that?” Extending his hand to me, I took it and noted dozens of small burn scars on his forearm.

“You’re Polish,” I said. “And you work with steel.”

“Now who’s the psychic?” Dawn asked, smiling. “That’s very good, Jesse. The same way I guessed it, but I had the advantage of knowing his last name.”

“You guys lost me,” Michal said.

“The burn marks on your forearms,” I said. “I figured you to be a welder. Knowing you’re out of Pittsburgh and Dawn saying there was no E in Michal, I guessed at the Polish part.”

“Please, everyone sit down,” Dawn said, dragging two extra chairs to the large table. It had a dark red cover, with a gilded fringe, and a large crystal ball mounted on a base in the middle.

Once we were all seated, Dawn said, “We each choose our destiny, so predicting what a person may or may not do depends on the situation and the person. I thought you might not come because of the nature of the problem. You’re known to be sort of a Dudley Do-Right man. Knowing that, there must be some other reason for your coming.”

Nodding at Travis, I introduced them and everyone shook hands. “Okay, with all the introductions in order, let’s get to the point,” I said.

Michal started to say something, but I cut him off. “Dawn’s right. I really don’t give a crap about your problem, how you got into it, or why, or how you’ll get out of it. I’m only here because I learned last night that the guys that are looking for you are associated with someone that blew up my boat and got a friend of mine shot. If finding the guys that are after you and then having them lead me to the guy I want helps you in some way, I don’t give a shit about that either. You’re a drug dealer.”

The blonde stood up angrily. “Now hold on just a minute, mister.” With me still seated, she barely had to look down at me, her blue eyes filled with rage. “People can change. Michal wants out of this. He wants out of it all. He came here to start a new life.”

“Calm down, Coral,” Dawn said, reaching a hand across the table and taking her niece’s hand. “Mister McDermitt said he’d help. Maybe not for the altruistic reasons you’d want him to, but help is help.”

Travis spoke for the first time. “You’re from Pittsburgh?” he asked the younger man as Coral sat back down again.

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s your last name?”

“Trebor,” Michal replied. I could tell he was lying.

I leaned across the table toward him. “If you want my help, you’ll be honest.”

Michal looked over at Coral and she nodded. He turned and looked Travis straight in the eye. “Grabowski. Michal Grabowski.”

What? That was the name the little cretin at the
Anchor
had used.

“Michal Grabowski, Junior?” Travis asked him. “Your dad was a soldier?”

“Well, yeah. But he died a few years back.”

“You look like him,” Travis said. “Sorry to hear he passed. We served together and he was a good man. Why are you into drugs, son?”

Eyeing Michal closer, I could see a few small scars on his face. He was a short man, and had probably been a small kid. He looked to be built pretty solid. No doubt he’d earned the scars as a little kid and grown up tough.

“I’m not really,” Michal said. “I was just hanging around at a guy’s house I know, drinking some beers and watching a baseball game. He’s the dealer. I’d already decided to get out of town and start over somewhere, even had my stuff packed and in the car, what little I had. When the dealer went to the bathroom, I grabbed his stuff and drove to the bus station. I sold some on the way down. But this morning, Coral and I tossed the rest into the water.”

Turning to me, he added, “I’m clean, Mister McDermitt. Honest.”

I stared into the younger man’s eyes and saw no sign that he wasn’t telling the truth. “These guys aren’t gonna buy that story, kid. From what I know about drug traffickers, if they don’t get back what’s theirs, they’ll slit your throat and toss you in the water, too. Probably do it anyway, even if they do get it back. Tossing it, you lost your only bargaining chip with them.”

Michal’s head dropped into his hands and Coral hurriedly put her arms around his shoulders. I couldn’t help but think they made a nice couple.

Lifting his head, he looked at each of us, finally stopping on Coral. “What am I gonna do? Those guys are here in Key West.”

“What are
we
going to do, Michal?” the young woman corrected him. “I’m in this with you. I talked you into throwing it into the bight, remember?”

I thought it over, the sight of the two young people clinging to one another finally convinced me. “From now, until this is resolved, you two will stick with me and Travis. We’re docked behind the Hyatt. That’s where the guys who are looking for you are staying.”

Michal started to object, but I stopped him and laid out the plan I’d come up with the night before, to pretend to be a coke distributor from up island. We improved the plan, Dawn suggesting that Michal be one of my new low-level dealers. She assured us that she could put the word out on the street faster than anyone in town. Finally, I asked Travis to join me outside for a minute, to talk alone.

Once outside, I turned to the deputy director. “Conner is wanted by a whole slew of government agencies, Colonel. Nothing of a national security nature that I know of, but wanted is wanted.”

“What is it you want to do?”

“I believed the kid when he said he wants a fresh start. I want to give him a new identity.”

Travis leaned back on the outside wall and crossed his arms. “I apologize for the lies, Gunny. Deuce and I were both ordered to. I assume you want to use the team?”

“Just Chyrel. She can create a whole new identity that will stick. Better than even WITSEC could do, I bet.”

The US Marshall Service’s Witness Security Program was a highly vaunted government program that was the best at creating new identities for federal witnesses needing protection.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Travis said. “But Deuce doesn’t have the authority to lay out the resources for that.”

“You mean as
acting
deputy director? The real deputy director does, though.”

Travis looked up the street for a moment. Finally, he looked back at me. “Okay, I owe it to his dad. That and more.”

Together, we went back inside. The three of them were huddled together over the table talking as we entered and looked up. Sitting back down, Travis took the lead.