Storm Season (9 page)

“Hello? Mr. Ricardo?”

He noticed the flies first. Swarms of them in the faint light of a table lamp. Then he noticed the smell.

Tully slowly entered. His eyes darted everywhere as he took small steps, his weapon drawn and leading. He hadn’t gone far when he saw the living room’s back wall. Warm sunshine yellow sprayed and splattered with blood.

“Oh my God.”

He heard the Senator behind him in the doorway. Tully threw out his left hand.

“Stay back,” he warned as he continued farther inside. Right around the wide archway door he found the body slumped against the refrigerator. The man was in his underwear. His right kneecap was blown away, as were several of his fingers. But the deathblow was a single shot to the forehead.

It looked like Ricardo hadn’t been able to talk his way out of this one.

THE MAN WITH THE RPG was named Diego. The one on the other side of the window with the AK-47 was Felipe. Not that they formally introduced themselves to Maggie and Liz. They spoke Spanish to each other but surprisingly good English to their hostages. The fact that they were comfortable using each other’s names in front of them kicked Maggie’s heartbeat up a notch. They didn’t mind Maggie and Liz knowing because they didn’t expect their two intruders to tell anyone . . . ever.

Now that the helicopter was gone, the two men had forced Maggie and Liz inside the boat. Liz’s dive suit left little room for concealing weapons. Immediately the smaller of the two, Felipe, unzipped Maggie’s flight suit and raced his hands over her body. She fought her basic instinct to punch away. Thankfully he was in a hurry so his fingers poked and prodded with little attempt at being salacious.

It was a relief of sorts just to get out of the storm. Her hair was dripping, her adrenaline still racing. Her nerves left raw from spinning on the cable ride down. She made herself take deep breaths to steady herself, but the air inside smelled stale. Stale with a metallic tang and the hint of cordite. They had obviously interrupted something.

The dark paneled walls muffled the thunder and rain to a battering but there was nothing to shut off the sway. The boat was large enough that when the waves pushed and shoved, the boat didn’t jerk. It rolled, tipping and tilting one way until it threatened to send everything and everyone sliding. Then slowly it crested over a swell, heaved a sigh and began tipping in the other direction.

Diego had exchanged his RPG for an automatic handgun. Maggie felt it in the small of her back as he prodded her forward, at times almost pushing her into Liz. Felipe led them through the narrow hallway. Polished cherry wood rose from floor to ceiling, broken up only by the living room’s bookcases and bar, and the kitchen’s stainless-steel appliances and granite countertops. No cost had been spared. And although glassware rattled and wine bottles clinked against each other, everything appeared to be staying in place despite the motion.

As they passed closed doors Maggie tried to listen for sounds of life. They’d been told there were six on board including the Senator’s teenage daughter, her eight-year old son and her husband. If this was an abduction, they had to be here somewhere. Hopefully unharmed.

Perhaps Felipe read her mind. At the next door he stopped. He grinned back at Diego and said something Maggie didn’t understand. Their Spanish was different somehow. Not what she was used to.

Diego laughed and Felipe pushed the door open, making sure it swung wide enough for them to see inside. He gestured for Liz to take a look, but he was showing off, not asking for them to go into the room. Maggie saw Liz’s shoulders drop, but she managed to mask her emotions.

Then it was time for Maggie’s sneak peek. And Felipe was anxious, the grin never leaving his face. Inside the laundry room, three bodies were sprawled out on top of each other, purposely stacked to accommodate the small space. At the top of the heap, a woman laid with her back arched, flopped over the other two. Her head and shoulders faced the doorway, and she stared wide-eyed at them from upside down. The bullet hole in her forehead still oozed.

So here was the crew. And Maggie understood clearly what Felipe was telling her and Liz. He wasn’t just showing off their handiwork. He was telling Maggie and Liz that they would soon be joining the pile.

TULLY HAD INSTRUCTED SENATOR Delanor-Ramos to go back and stay in the SUV. To his surprise, she had obeyed without argument or discussion. Despite how tough the woman was, he knew the scene inside Ricardo’s house was not something she had ever experienced before. And although she had been withholding information and dealing it out piecemeal to Tully since the minute they met, he also knew that she had not expected or even suspected this.

The most frustrating part for Tully was that not fifteen minutes after finding Ricardo, the Senator’s political instinct kicked into gear. As soon as Tully jumped back into the SUV she was insisting they leave.

“A patrol unit is on the way,” Tully explained.

“I can’t be here when they arrive.”

He looked over at her, but she was staring ahead through the blurred windshield. The streetlights cast her face in shadow.

“Are you suggesting I leave the scene?”

“You’ve reported it, correct? It’s not like we can tell them anything.”

Which wasn’t entirely true. He knew there was plenty the Senator could tell the local law enforcement about Ricardo that they might never know.

“I’ve already called Raymond.” And she said this as though she was pulling rank on him. “He understands the situation. He told me he’d take care of things.”

Tully saw that she had her cell phone clutched tightly in her hand. The faceplate was still lit. For a woman who was careful and deliberate about her every move and concerned about her actions being recorded and accounted for, he knew that her call to the FBI assistant director had been an added risk.

“Where do you suggest we go from here?”

“Back to the beach.”

“Another business associate?”

“No,” she said, but she winced as though his sarcasm had struck a nerve. “A friend.”

It took them forever to backtrack. More branches were down. The water rushed across streets, in places so high it looked as if it had swallowed the tires of small sedans. Many were stranded along the sides. But it didn’t seem to stop people from venturing out. There was still a remarkable amount of traffic.

Once they crossed the bridge and were back on the beach, the Senator pointed to a marina on the gulf side.

“I’m hoping Howard will have something more to tell us.”

“Howard is the friend?”

She nodded.

“Yours or your husband’s?”  

“Both. But he knows George. He’s known him for a very long time.”

“Like Ricardo?”

“No, not like Ricardo. Not at all like Ricardo.” She shook her head as if she was trying to forget the image. “Howard is a friend. And we keep our houseboat there.”

“So Howard may have seen them leave?”

“Howard would never let George take a boat out in weather like this, especially with the kids.”

“Would he have stopped George?”

She seemed to consider this for a beat too long then said, “I doubt it. When George puts his mind to something there usually is no further discussion.”

Tully pulled up as close as he could to the shop. The rain continued, drumming down and interspersed with wind gusts that sent the rain horizontal in violent blasts. Thunder shook the vehicle. Lightning streaked through the sky, tinting the world a neon blue and crackling like electrical sparks.

The two-story shop had a marlin painted on the side and orange and blue letters that read: Howard Johnson’s Deep-Sea Fishing. Beside it was Bobbye’s Oyster Bar. Both looked closed though there was a faint light on in the shop.

Bistro tables were shoved against the bar’s south wall. Chairs were turned over and stacked securely on top of the tables then chained down. Still, the wind rattled the cast iron. Across the boardwalk, boats of all sizes rocked in their slips and lurched against their tie-down lines.

Though she still had the umbrella in her hand, Senator Delanor-Ramos made no attempt to open it. They were both soaking wet. Still, she carried it as she ran for cover under the shop’s awning. A graceful run, almost a prance – Ginger Rogers in three-inch heels. Tully followed, his size thirteen’s finding puddles already deep enough to swallow his loafers. Gwen would kill him. She had bought him the Italian leather shoes for one of their anniversaries. How awful was it that he couldn’t remember which anniversary? And then, even through the crashes of thunder, without his mind missing a beat, he immediately thought – how awful was it that your significant other bought you shoes for an anniversary? It was a crazy thing to think about on a night like this one. But it was a crazy night.

To his surprise the shop door opened despite the CLOSED sign in the window. A huge man stood behind the counter, towering over it. Barrel-chested with muscular arms. He wore a bright colored boat shirt and white linen trousers. His thick hair was completely white, as were his mustache and wide sideburns, although he didn’t look older than sixty.

The only light in the shop came from inside the display cases and a neon sign – another marlin – this one, brilliant green and yellow. The neon danced in the reflection of the glass cases. Along with the lightning, it cast the entire shop in an otherworld illumination. Tully couldn’t help thinking the man looked more like the captain of a spaceship rather than a deep-sea fishing boat.

“Can I help you folks?” he asked before he looked up. The baritone voice was kind and gentle despite the fact that he had already closed for the day. When he did look up, he had to do a double take. As soon as he recognized the Senator he smiled – bright white teeth and laugh lines – and shook his head. “Ellie, what in the world are you doing out in weather like this?”

He didn’t wait for her reply. He came around the counter and engulfed her in a hug.

The tough-as-nails powerbroker of a Senator hugged him tight, standing on tip-toe to do it, and when he let her go, Tully saw her swat tears from her eyes.

“Howard, it’s good to see you.”

“I saw the boat was gone,” he said before the question was asked. “What is George up to this time?”

“JORGE, HERE ARE THE VISITORS,” Felipe called out.

Diego had stayed back at the laundry room while Felipe had shoved Maggie and Liz forward onto a deck that was glassed in and protected from the storm. Even in the dark Maggie could see the waves crashing up and over the outside railings. She recognized it as the steering cabin of the boat.

A dark-haired man sat in the captain’s chair behind the steering wheel and in front of a panel of instruments. He glanced over his shoulder but only briefly. His attention stayed focused on the instruments that were barely lit.

Maggie had felt the engine come to life as they were walking through the narrow hallway. The vibration had rumbled under their feet and she knew the boat was moving again. She tried to remember what Tommy Ellis had said about the Coast Guard cutter. It was less than an hour away. How long ago was that? If the houseboat started moving in the opposite direction would the cutter ever find it? She wanted to ask Liz. She tried to read the younger woman’s expression now that she was able to see her face.

Felipe motioned for them to sit on one of the benches alongside the wall. When Maggie didn’t comply quickly enough he shoved her down. The man behind the steering wheel turned and scowled at him.

“Really, Felipe?”

“What? They are
federales
.”

“Yes, and if you kill one of them this will be the end.”

From Maggie’s angle she could see Diego. He was dragging one of the bodies from the laundry room out onto to the deck. Somehow he worked the rocking of the boat and wind to his advantage. Instead of struggling, he waited for the tilt then raised the body up and let the wind and waves push it over the railing.

Maggie looked away, biting back the anger and helplessness she was feeling. Her mind tried to work the pieces together. Initially when she saw the RPG she thought terrorists had pirated the boat. It made sense. Senator Delanor-Ramos was a powerful and outspoken political official. But political motivation seemed to drift away the more she watched the two thugs. Though perhaps Jorge was their mastermind.

Revenge or kidnapping seemed more likely. The houseboat was clearly luxurious. She had no idea of the Senator’s financial situation, but a ransom would fit the profile of men like Diego and Felipe.

Then into this macabre nightmare a little boy wandered in from a doorway at the opposite end. He was dressed in baggy shorts and an Angry Birds T-shirt. He ignored the rest of them and ran to the man at the helm.

“Daddy, Angelica is hogging the X-box.”

The man patted the boy and pulled him up onto his lap. Maggie exchanged a stunned look with Liz. She couldn’t believe it. Jorge was George Ramos.

TULLY FIDGETED WHILE HOWARD pulled out an expensive looking bottle of liquor. He set three crystal-cut rocks glasses on a bistro table in the corner of the shop. As Tully wandered over he noticed the shelf that ran a foot below the high ceiling. It lined all four walls and displayed miniature model boats, tightly packed, end-to-end. They were the type that someone had painstakingly put together and painted, delicate lines and tiny pieces. He couldn’t help glancing at Howard’s large hands. They looked more like they belonged to a boxer than a man who applied fine details to tiny bits of plastic.

The Senator had just told Howard about Ricardo. Tully couldn’t help noticing that he didn’t look shocked, not even surprised. Those big hands were steady and graceful as he poured the amber liquid. He slid a glass in front of Senator Delanor-Ramos then set down a second one for Tully before he filled his own glass.

“Some of the old dogs have come sniffing around again in the last couple of years,” he told the Senator as he glanced from her to Tully and back.

“Oh, it’s okay, Howard. He’s one of Raymond’s agents.” Then to Tully she explained, “Howard and George used to . . . how do I put this?” She looked to Howard for help.