Black Horizon (42 page)

Jack turned it off. The Scarborough 8 was officially the worst oil spill in U.S. history.

And it was a love story.

He opened the French doors and stepped out onto the deck behind the house. Andie was sitting before her laptop in the shade of an umbrella, typing her final report on Operation Black Horizon. Their golden retriever, Max, lay at her feet, back from his doggie vacation at Mitzi’s Boot Camp, which was originally to have coincided with Jack and Andie’s honeymoon. He was sound asleep, no doubt exhausted from daily swims in the pool and racing in the fields with horses.

“I get most of this,” said Jack. “But if Rafael was a derrick monkey, how did he get anywhere near the computerized alarm system?”

Andie looked up from her LCD. “You know I can’t discuss my report.”

“Surely the answer to my question is going to be public information.”

She didn’t argue. “Okay. Rafael was probably the most overqualified derrick monkey you’ll ever see. He volunteered for it, but the degree he was working on from the university was in computer engineering. So he hung out with the other engineers and engineering students at meals or in the recreation room. He became their buddy, and they showed him around. He worked the friendships to get access.”

“Why did he volunteer to be a derrick monkey?”

“So he could see to Key West. You have to remember, this was—”

“A love story,” said Jack.

“A sad one.”

“Makes me even sadder that Rafael only thought he was seeing Key West. The Coast Guard expert that I brought into court said it was impossible to see that far, even from the top of the derrick.”

“I’ll bet what he actually saw was the Dry Tortugas. Fort Jefferson is pretty high above sea level at points.”

Fort Jefferson.
Jack could only shake his head at the irony. The old fort was where the doctor who set the broken leg of Abraham Lincoln’s assassin had served his prison sentence.

“They should reopen it and lock up Vivien and Rick there.”

“That would be too good,” said Andie. “I’m told the Bahamas will seek the death penalty against Rick for the Jeffries murder. Vivien could get life as an accomplice, but hopefully we’ll obtain extradition and the National Security Division will figure out a way to seek the death penalty under antiterrorism laws.”

Jack wasn’t in the mood for another death penalty debate with Andie. He changed the subject, if only slightly.

“I spoke to Bianca,” he said.

“How did she take it?”

“Like you’d expect. Disgusted by Rick. Overwhelmed by how much Rafael wanted to be with her. Terrible feelings of guilt over the pain and disaster it caused. Not that the lawsuit matters anymore, but of course she knows her case is over. I wish I could have at least kept that fifty thousand bucks for her, but it’s beyond a stretch to make a legal claim to an account that never really belonged to her or Rafael.”

“Does she even have a job anymore?”

“Rick’s Café is closed for now, but it won’t take long to find a buyer for a bar on Duval Street. Funny thing, but the reason Theo went to Key West in the first place was to scout out the possibility of buying it with friends. Rumor had it that Rick was looking to sell before I even met him.”

“In anticipation of a big fat Bahamian bank account, no doubt.”

“I suppose. Oh, well. Maybe Theo and his friends will end up getting a steal on his bar.”

“That would be something if Bianca ends up working for Theo.”

Jack shook his head. “Sometimes I think life would be so much easier if we all just worked for Theo.”

She caught his drift. “Okay, how much did you lose on this contingency-fee case?”

“Not sure. But it may pay off in referrals down the line.”

“You mean from your friend Cassie in New York?”

“Believe it or not, Luis Candela. He has an oil client who allegedly bribed public officials in Ecuador and might be indicted under the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act. Said he’ll probably be giving me a call.”

“Great. Another case that you and I will see completely eye to eye on, I’m sure.”

“Yeah. Candela’s actually a decent guy. I think this could come through.”

“But until then?”

Jack shrugged. “Until then, how do you feel about finishing our honeymoon at the Ritz Carlton on Key Biscayne?”

It was a full eight blocks from their house. “Sounds perfect.”

There was silence between them. Then Andie reached over and took his hand. “You really okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

“I think so,” she said with a sad smile. “Wish I could hit the rewind button and go back to our wedding day. But I can’t.”

Jack looked off toward the bay, thinking of Rafael gazing across the Florida Straits from atop the derrick. “Kind of the way Bianca feels, I would imagine.”

“Yeah,” said Andie. “I would imagine.”

T
he memorial service at sea was on Friday afternoon. It was Bianca, Jack, Andie, and Theo.

The sun was shining brightly as Jack motored out their rented ski-boat from Key West. Twin outboard engines propelled them in a southwesterly direction for almost an hour. They were in international waters, no land in sight, when Jack cut the engine. Gentle waves slapped against the starboard side, a soothing sound.

“Take your time,” Jack told Bianca.

She nodded and rose slowly. The boat was rocking, and it took her a moment to get her sea legs. Then she opened a book to read “El Cisne,” an old poem by Elisa Monge.

Jack would have liked to follow it aurally, but Hispanic poetry wasn’t easy for the minimally conversant. Bianca had printed out a rough English translation, which Jack shared with Andie and Theo. It lacked the power and rhythm of the native tongue, but against the backdrop of Bianca’s reading of the Spanish original, even the printed translation approached poetry: “In the middle of the waters swayed / a handsome swan of snowy plumage / that sank his head into the foam / and with pleasure dipped it out again.” Bianca read in a soft voice, stopping to collect herself as the woman in the poem returns to the lake and is unable to find her swan, and stopped once more, to choke back tears, when the woman discovers what has happened to him. A particularly long pause punctuated her struggle at the end: “Nevermore would the handsome, majestic swan / so proudly pass over the lake / nevermore would the rays of the silver moon / illuminate his graceful gliding.”

When she finished, Bianca put down her book of poetry and went to the stern. Three wreaths rested side by side on the padded bench seat. With great care, she lifted the one in the middle with both hands. It was a mixture of colorful orchids and white butterfly jasmine (Mariposa Blanca), the official flower of Cuba. It was for Rafael. She walked to portside, whispered something that Jack couldn’t hear—maybe
good-bye
, maybe
I love you
—and dropped it overboard.

She gripped the chrome rail tightly, her hands shaking.

Theo then rose, walked to the back of the boat, took another wreath, and dropped it over the side. It was for Josefina. Together, Jack and Andie dropped the third wreath for Sicario.

The water buoyed each of them, and the line of wreaths drifted away from their boat, a floral flotilla. Jack put his arm around Bianca, holding her close as they watched in silence. The wreaths were getting smaller, farther away, and then they all saw it.

When the wreaths had drifted about twenty yards from the boat, a gentle swell rose up, and the water flashed with ironic and ambivalent beauty. It surrounded all three memorials like a halo, framing them in an assortment of colors more brilliant than the blossoms that made up the wreaths, colors that set this solemn place apart from the deep-blue ocean around them. For an instant, it was like a rainbow floating on the ocean’s surface.

It was the sheen of Cuban petroleum glistening in the Florida sun.

Acknowledgments

I
t’s been twenty years since Jack Swyteck made his debut in
The Pardon
. I am forever grateful to Richard Pine, still my agent, who pitched Jack to HarperCollins, still my publisher. I didn’t write that first Swyteck novel thinking it would become a series, so special thanks go to my editor, Carolyn Marino, who, after our fourth novel together, had the good sense to ask, “What ever happened to Jack?”

I do my own research, so the mistakes are all mine, but I’m grateful to many who shared their knowledge and expertise, including Rex Hamilton and his incredibly helpful friends at the Everglades Foundation; Gwen Keenan, director of Emergency Response, Office of Emergency Response, Florida Department of Environmental Protection; and Jacqueline Gonzalez-Touzet, for her insights into Cuba and, in particular, Cuban architecture.

I’m also grateful to Carolyn’s editorial assistant, Amanda Bergeron, and to my volunteer beta readers, Janis Koch and Gloria Villa. They do much more than copyedit. They make me a better writer.

Congratulations to John and Samantha Murphy, who lent the name of John’s father (Jim Murphy) to a character in
Black Horizon.
The generosity of the Murphy family at a “character auction” will benefit the children of St. Thomas Episcopal Parish School. The tradition of character auctions in Jack Swyteck novels started with
Beyond Suspicion
(Swyteck No. 2), and I’m happy to say that we’ve now raised over $50,000 for charity.

Finally, to Tiffany. Jack Swyteck came to life twenty years ago, and I feel like I did, too. Happy anniversary. I love you.

About the Author

PHOTO BY MONICA HOPKINS

JAMES GRIPPANDO
is a
New York Times
bestselling author whose novels are enjoyed worldwide in twenty-six languages.
Black Horizon
is his twentieth novel published by HarperCollins, the eleventh in the acclaimed series featuring Miami attorney Jack Swyteck. He is also the author of
Leapholes
for young adults. James was a trial lawyer for twelve years before the publication of his first novel in 1994 (
The Pardon
), and he is now counsel at one of the nation’s leading law firms. He lives and writes in south Florida.

Visit
www.AuthorTracker.com
for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

Also by James Grippando

Blood Money*+

Need You Now+

Afraid of the Dark*+

Money to Burn+

Intent to Kill

Born to Run*+

Last Call*+

Lying with Strangers

When Darkness Falls*+

Got the Look*+

Hear No Evil*

Last to Die*

Beyond Suspicion*

A King’s Ransom

Under Cover of Darkness+

Found Money

The Abduction

The Informant

The Pardon*

And for Young Adults

Leapholes

* A Jack Swyteck novel

+ Also featuring FBI agent Andie Henning

Credits

COVER DESIGN BY ERVIN SERRANO

COVER PHOTOGRAPHS : © JASMIN SANDER / PLAINPICTURE (TREES) ; © U.S. COAST GUARD PHOTO / ALAMY (SMOKE)

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

BLACK HORIZON.
Copyright © 2014 by James Grippando. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

FIRST EDITION

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Grippando, James.

Black horizon / James Grippando.—First Edition.

    p.   cm.—(A Jack Swyteck novel)

ISBN 978-0-06-210988-0

1. Swyteck, Jack (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Lawyers—Florida—Miami—Fiction. I. Title.

PS3557.R534B53   2014

EPub Edition © MARCH 2014 ISBN 9780062109897

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