Storm Season (11 page)

“Just on the other side of the next bookcase,” Liz whispered again.

Maggie grabbed Liz’s arm and exchanged places with her. If she had to, she knew she could take down Felipe, especially if he didn’t see it coming. As if reading her mind, Liz kept hold of Maggie’s wrist and pulled her along.

“It’s right here,” she said and the two of them patted down the wall looking for the door latch.

Liz found it first. The blast of wind and rain hit them in the face like buckshot. Maggie had to hold her breath. She tucked her chin and grabbed onto the railing. The tackle box would be close and yet Maggie couldn’t see a foot in front of her.

Then she realized Liz was down on her hands and knees. She joined her.

“It’s not here,” Liz yelled.

“It has to be.”

Lightning flashed and Maggie saw the box clamped down. She crawled closer. She could see the bungee cord that cinched the lid. A wave washed over the deck railing, knocking both of them into the wall. Maggie swiped a hand over her face and through the blur she thought she saw a light on the water. She pointed for Liz.

“Drug boat?”

Liz shook her head. “Bigger. I think it might be the cutter.”

It was close. Minutes away. And yet, Maggie knew they might be dead in minutes.

She reached for the bungee cord and suddenly the deck lit up. A big man with a spotlight stood at the other end. Diego. He stood almost exactly in the same place where she had seen him with the RPG. This time he had the spotlight in one hand and an automatic rifle in the other.

Maggie continued to slide closer to the tackle box. Diego was shouting at them in Spanish. She grabbed the bungee cord and worked her hand under the lid. The box was deep. Where it had taken no time to toss her weapon down into it, it would take reaching her entire arm to find it. Before her fingers made purchase Felipe stormed out the same door.

He was angry. He was screaming at them but pointing and gesturing to Diego about the light that was approaching. Only now did Maggie realize that Liz had positioned herself, once again, in front of Maggie so that the men couldn’t see. Maggie continued to slide her hand to the other side of the tackle box. Her arm was behind her and Felipe hadn’t noticed quite yet. He still didn’t suspect that they would have access to weapons. He thought they only wanted to escape.

Felipe gestured now for Diego to hurry while he waved the automatic handgun in Liz and Maggie’s faces. He was speaking too quickly for Maggie to understand but she knew they would need to move Maggie and Liz to the other side of the boat, away from the approaching light so they could shoot them and throw them overboard.

Why couldn’t she find her gun?

That’s when George Ramos came out the door. He stood between them – Diego and Felipe on one side, legs spread and balancing themselves like experts in the wind and rain. On the other side were Liz and Maggie, still on their knees. George looked to Maggie and held something up, waving it around above his head. In the glare of the spotlight she thought it looked like a gun.

“Is this what you’re looking for, Agent O’Dell?”

Her service revolver. And she felt her stomach drop.

George Ramos brought the gun down. His arm stretched out. He fired two shots, expertly hitting both of his targets. The first caught Diego between the eyes. The second blast slammed into Felipe’s right temple.

THE RAIN HAD LET UP. Even the wind seemed to be giving them a break. But Tully saw lightning brighten the horizon just over the water. It would indeed be only a break. There was definitely more to come.

Moments ago the cutter had arrived with the houseboat named
Electric Blue
in tow. No one was allowed to board until given permission. Senator Delanor-Ramos was not pleased, but she waited.

When he saw Maggie he hardly recognized her. She still wore the orange flight suit. Her hair was a tangled mess, her skin an almost sickly white. She and Liz Bailey stood shoulder to shoulder as the Coast Guard brass made them go through their ridiculous protocol.

Very little had been relayed back to them on shore, but they were told that George Ramos and his two children were safe and unharmed. Two men had, indeed, boarded the houseboat and attempted to take it over. Three members of Ramos’s crew had been killed. And from what Tully understood, the two gunmen were also dead.

“I knew George would never put our children in danger,” Senator Delanor-Ramos said as she stood beside Tully.

They watched from inside the air station. Tully glanced over at her. Her tote bag in his rental SUV had provided her with a change of clothing. She had reapplied makeup and fixed her hair. The façade was back in place, everything back to normal. For her sake and for her kids, he hoped that was the case. After listening to Howard about drug cartels reclaiming old routes, Tully didn’t believe that this story was that easily explained away. If it were, George’s “business associate” Ricardo wouldn’t be dead. Tully was anxious to hear George’s explanation.

ON THE PIER, MAGGIE watched Liz. She was better at this than Maggie was. There would be reports to file and statements to sign. The Coast Guard and Homeland Security would make sure everything was properly handled. And at the same time, Maggie wanted to take Liz aside and ask, “What the hell happened out there?”

The cutter had overtaken the houseboat within minutes of George Ramos shooting Diego and Felipe. When he pulled Maggie and Liz inside from the bloody deck, he told them how relieved he was. That he had been frightened for his children. He handed them towels from the closest bathroom and offered them brandy. And the whole time Maggie noticed that he didn’t put down her revolver. He kept it in his hand, a reminder that he was still in charge. And it was in his hand when he stepped back out onto the lower deck, leaving them inside the cozy living room with the generator partially restoring electricity.

Maggie shouldn’t have been surprised when George Ramos explained his story to the Coast Guard crew. Both she and Liz agreed that they didn’t know what the situation was before they boarded. Drained and exhausted, Maggie realized that some things were not as they appeared. It wasn’t impossible that a father would pretend to go along with a couple of madmen if he knew it would save his children.

George claimed the men had threatened him and were forcing him to meet their drug connection somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico. That scenario wasn’t far from what Liz had suspected. He made his story sound so convincing that even Maggie found herself backtracking. She tried to remember pieces of dialogue. She still couldn’t figure out how and when he had managed to get her gun out of the tackle box. Why had she been so sure that George was not only friends with Diego and Felipe, but that he was the one in charge?

“A man does whatever he needs to do to protect his children,” George Ramos kept saying, and twice he had said it while looking directly at Maggie and Liz.

Maggie wondered if the children would ever be questioned. She doubted it. Though she realized the children probably didn’t know anything more than what their father had told them. They had been stashed away in their bedrooms playing video games.

As they exited the cutter she watched George with Angelica and the boy, Daniel, as they met Senator Delanor-Ramos on the pier. George scooped up Daniel and the family huddled together, exchanging hugs and kisses.

“It’s the damnedest thing,” Liz said, walking alongside Maggie.

Now that they were finally alone, Maggie stopped and waited for Liz’s eyes. It was breezy out in the middle of the pier, but the rain was light and actually felt good. Behind them, crews were securing the cutter and the houseboat.

“Do you believe him?” she asked.

Liz glanced around. She nodded at someone and Maggie turned to see Tully making his way to them. Before Tully was in earshot, Liz answered, “Not in a million years.”

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Tully said and surprised Maggie with a bear hug.

He patted Liz on the shoulder as she left them to rejoin her aircrew, who were already yelling catcalls at her from the end of the pier.

“You okay?” he asked as they followed in Liz’s direction.

“I think I’ll leave the helicopter rides to you in the future.”

“That’s a deal.”

They were almost to the parking lot when Maggie noticed George Ramos heading back down the pier to his houseboat.

“What’s he doing?” she asked Tully.

“Maybe he wants to get it to the marina and into its slip before the next band of weather hits. It’s an expensive boat.”

She saw Senator Delanor-Ramos and the two children getting into a black Escalade. Tully was probably right.

“Lots of holes in his story,” Tully said as if reading her mind. “I doubt he’s going to be asked to fill in any of those.”

“Does his wife believe him?”

“I think she has to.”

“Maybe I can ask him just one last question,” Maggie said. She glanced over at Tully. “Care to come along?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Let the poor man board his boat first,” she told him and they took up a leisurely pace.

George Ramos waved to the cutter’s crew as he passed them on the pier. They were leaving as he went back to his boat. It had been a hell of night. Maggie could hear the men wishing him well. He didn’t even notice Tully and Maggie as he climbed onto the lower deck of
Electric Blue
. He didn’t look back as he entered the same side door where he had shot Diego and Felipe. All the blood had been washed away by the waves and the rain. The cutter crew hadn’t been at all surprised when George explained how both men had fallen overboard when he shot them with Maggie’s revolver.

But Liz and Maggie knew that the men hadn’t fallen overboard. George had gone back out before the cutter arrived.

Maggie suspected he was lying about much more. Everyone presumed that the houseboat hadn’t met up with the drug boat yet. That they were headed to pick up the delivery when Liz and Maggie interrupted. But what if they were wrong? What if they were on their way back?

Maggie gestured for Tully to climb aboard behind her. She opened the door gently, quietly, and before she went inside she saw Tully had his weapon drawn. Hers was still being held by the Coast Guard.

With the dim lights, it was easy to follow the narrow hallway. She could hear George in one of the bedrooms down past the kitchen. It sounded like he was moving furniture but Maggie knew that wasn’t possible. Everything was bolted down. Before she got to the open bedroom door, she pressed her back against the paneled hallway wall and let Tully go around her.

She stayed in place and watched him step into the doorway. She watched Tully’s face and immediately knew that she was right.

Tully aimed his weapon and cleared his throat. “Stay right where you are, Mr. Ramos.”

When Maggie looked in she couldn’t believe it. The storage bins were pulled out from under the bed. A window bench was open, exposing another storage area. All of them were stacked and packed with bags of cocaine.

George Ramos smiled and shook his head like he couldn’t believe it.

“This is not what it looks like,” he said.

“
Choque Azul
,” Tully said suddenly. “I can’t believe I missed it, but my Spanish isn’t so great.” He glanced at Maggie but kept his Glock pointed on Ramos. “The drug cartel George used to work for. They call themselves
Choque Azul
now. Doesn’t that mean Blue Shock?” Then to Ramos, he said, “You named your boat after them.”

“
Electric Blue
,” Maggie said. “This wasn’t your first drug run.”

“I can explain this.” Ramos actually looked worried now.

“But we’ll make sure it’s your last,” she added.

“The wise man in the storm prays to God, not for safety from danger,
but deliverance from fear.”

– Ralph Waldo Emerson

Annecy, France

1900 Hours

MY FATHER’S SCREAMS ECHO in the small car.

“Monte, vite, vite. Angelie, baisse-toi! Baisse-toi!”

My head hits the floor just as the window shatters. Blood, thick and hot, sprays my bare legs. I wedge myself under my mother’s skirts, her thighs heavy against my shoulders, somehow knowing she is already dead. We are all dead.

Flashes of black.

Their voices, two distinctly male, one female. Another, a stranger’s call, silenced abruptly with a short fusillade of bullets. His bicycle smashes into the side of our aging Peugeot, his body catapults across the hood onto the pavement beyond. The crack sounds like the opening of a cantaloupe, ripe and hard.

My father, his life leaving him, slides down in the seat like a puppet cut from his strings. He’s whispering words over and over, faintly, and with the cacophony in the background I can barely hear him. I risk a glance, wishing I’d not. The image shall never leave me. Red, pulpy and viscous. He is missing half his face, but his full lips are moving.

“Si toi survivras, cherché ton Oncle Pierre. On aime quelqu'un de tout son cœur.”

I hear nothing but the first words. Panic fills me. Though I recognize what is happening, the reality has just crept in.

Si toi survivras.
If you survive.

I want to take his hand, to comfort him, to tell him I am there, that I too love him with all my heart. I reach for him as he dies, shaking his head, trying to implore me to stay hidden, not to move. He isn’t even speaking now, but I can hear the words in my head, like he has transferred his soul from his body to mine for these last fluttering moments, has given himself up early to crowd into my body and try to save me.

Undeterred, my hand steals across the gearshift. I touch the cold skin of his thumb.

A roaring in my ears. There is pain beyond anything I’ve ever felt, and I go blank.

Current Day

Nashville, Tennessee

0415 Hours