 
CARIBBEAN SPLASH

By Jeff Egerton
Copyright © 2012 Jeff Egerton

Published by Jeff Egerton at Smashwords

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Caribbean Splash is dedicated to all of the courageous men and women

who have fought and sacrificed to keep our country free.

CHAPTER ONE

From eighty-five hundred feet aloft the brilliant mid-day sun made the Caribbean Sea shimmer like an endless carpet of blue diamonds. An occasional flora-filled island bordered by ivory sand and pale green water completed the postcard image.

I should have been enjoying the spectacular scenery, but no such luck. My eyes were irritated from staring through binoculars and my breath tasted like an old sock from too many cups of coffee. And I still hadn't spotted the stolen aircraft we were searching for.

All was forgotten when my partner broke the silence, "I've got a fast mover down on the water heading northeast bound. The speed looks about right for a Cheyenne. I'll bring us around so you can verify the type of aircraft." From the left seat of our Cessna Conquest Josie Blaine banked gently to the right.

Again I scanned the ocean and finally picked up the plane she'd seen. Even from this altitude I could make out the unmistakable T-tail. "That looks like our guy and it's even dark in color. Follow it but stay invisible."

Josie maneuvered to stay well above and directly behind the aircraft. I didn't think they'd see us, however, anyone with enough grit to steal an airplane wears suspicion like suit of armor and spends most of their waking hours watching their back.

Twenty minutes later I watched the Cheyenne close in on Norman's Cay and turn a two mile final approach to the island runway.

"Drop down a thousand or so and widen out your pattern."

She descended slowly and flew a wide arc, keeping the island in my windows. Shaped like a fish hook, Norman's Cay looked about two and a half or three miles long, with the runway stretching down the center.

I saw a small hangar and a couple other buildings sprinkled around the island. "It looks like two families might share the island estate. I wonder if those boats anchored offshore are full of FBI agents who're watching the place."

"If they are they're not very inconspicuous."

"Typical bureau operation."

I watched the plane land and pull up to a hangar. "That is definitely a Cheyenne and it is the right color."

"Awesome. Can you make out the tail number?"

"I can't, but they've probably repainted it with a phony number by now." Most planes we recover have been stolen by drug smugglers and their first task after stealing the plane is to repaint the registration number on the fuselage. In many cases they'll repaint the entire aircraft, which severely complicates our job, but we still had a ninety-five percent success rate in recovering stolen planes. I like to think it takes more than a little paint to fool us.

I watched from aloft as the left propeller quit turning and the stairs dropped down. The right propeller kept turning; this meant they weren't parking the aircraft. They'd be taking off again as soon as they discharged their passengers.

I told my partner, "He's still got one engine turning. I think he's going to depart."

"Are we giving chase?" Josie's concern was based on the fact that the FBI had learned that we were making an attempt to recover the stolen plane. Apparently they had an interest in the same aircraft, or the people in it. Because they didn't want us fowling up their surveillance, they had contacted me, saying, "Don't grab the Cheyenne and don't go near Norman's Cay."

"You bet we are." We might be close to violating the FBI's orders, but what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

"What are you going to tell the FBI when they contact us?" Josie is very honest by nature, but she was savvy enough to understand that sometimes you have to determine your own course of action, as opposed to letting other people pull your strings.

"Honey, we may never get another chance like this. So, we grab the Cheyenne and head for Florida. The feds won't even know what happened. It's not like these guys are going to report the theft of a plane that they stole three days ago." I'm not as honest by nature and I sure as hell wasn't going to pass up a chance like this.

Josie saluted and said, "You're the boss." What she meant was I'd be the one who'd be interrogated by the FBI. It wouldn't be the first time I'd crossed swords with the bureau boys.

"He's taxiing to depart southwest."

The Cheyenne taxied to the runway end, took off and turned northwest bound. Josie gave chase a couple miles in trail and several thousand feet above it.

About seventy miles northwest of Nassau we came upon a football shaped island with a runway at one end. Josie said, "He's descending. It looks like he's going to land here."

From a chart I determined the island was Amberjack Cay, in the Berry Island chain. After one circle the Cheyenne landed, pulled off the runway and taxied to a parking area near a sprawling pink stucco house. This time the pilot shut down both engines. Four people deplaned and walked into the house.

Josie climbed up to ten-thousand, five-hundred feet and circled the island while we discussed our strategy.

I told her, "I don't like the setup. The plane is too close to the house. Once we land and they hear us, they've got too much time to react before we can get out of there. Hell, if they come out shooting, we're sitting ducks."

"Pilots get lost flying around the Caribbean all the time. We'll pull the lost tourist routine." Josie made it sound as simple as it was. "We land. I go up to the house and tell them I might be lost; is this Chub Cay? They say, no, it's about thirty miles west of here. I thank them and they think we're on our way. I go start the Cheyenne, which they can't hear because your engines are still running. Then we high-tail it out of there."

"I like it, partner." I looked down at the island. A single-engine Piper Cherokee was parked near a hangar. "The only plane they have to give chase in is that Cherokee and we're a hundred knots faster; there's no way they can catch us. We can pack our bags and hook it for Sarasota. The writer lady will have her plane back by dinner time."

After I said it, I thought this through seven ways from Thursday. It sounded good, but I was looking for unforeseen glitches that could pop up.

I didn't see any problems and the FBI wasn't within two hundred miles. "O.K., let's go get the Cheyenne."

I'm Gabriel Thibodeaux. Josie Blaine and I are in the business of recovering stolen airplanes. The Piper Cheyenne we were following had allegedly been snatched from Katherine Wilder, an author from Sarasota. We'd been notified by one of our snitches at the airport on Grand Cayman that the aircraft had departed for Norman's Cay, a small island in the north end of the Exuma chain. Because we were such intrepid investigators, we'd found it and had crossed the first hurdle in getting the aircraft back to Ms. Wilder. From here on, however, it wouldn't get any easier because people who steal airplanes are usually heavily armed and they just don't like giving them back.

I scoured the island with my binoculars as Josie descended overhead. I didn't see any activity which was kind of spooky, because we had no indication of what sort of reception we were in for.

She rolled out on final approach and I said, "If you can park between the house and the Cheyenne, that'll give you some cover when you're starting the engines."

"Shouldn't be a problem." The woman defined cool.

She touched down and taxied to a spot on a parking pad to the right of the Cheyenne with the house on the other side a hundred feet away. If I'd been outside I would have done cartwheels when I saw that the Cheyenne's door was open. She wouldn't have to pick the locks.

Josie deplaned and walked to the house. In her navy shorts, light green polo shirt, white tennis shoes, Ray-bans and ball cap, she looked like the perfect tourist.

I watched as someone who looked like a maid answered the door. Smiling like she was embarrassed at being lost, Josie gestured to the plane and told her story. The maid shook her head and pointed to the west. In an academy award performance, Josie slapped her cheek when she found out she was on the wrong island.

Josie heaped thanks upon the helpful servant and turned back to the plane. I watched the door and two windows that were facing toward us. No inquisitive faces.

When Josie neared the Conquest, I shouted, "All clear!"

She ran to the Cheyenne and disappeared inside the door. I slowly turned the Conquest around, waiting for the props on the other plane to start turning. Within a minute I saw one turn. The keys must have been in the plane; we were living right today. Josie turned the Cheyenne toward the runway as the second prop started turning.

I looked at the house. Still no curious faces in the windows and the door remained shut.

Josie lined up on the runway and took off. As soon as her nose wheel lifted, I pushed the Conquest's throttles forward and followed her into the clear Caribbean sky.

Three miles south of Amberjack Cay I radioed, "That was almost too easy."

"Roger on too easy, Tibby. We make a hell of a team."

Yes, we did.

Thirty-five minutes later we both landed at the airport outside of Andros Town. I climbed down out of the Conquest, grinning ear to ear because the recovery had come off so easily. I walked to the Cheyenne where Josie was sitting on the steps.

"What a fabulous day. This will be the easiest thirty grand we ever made. Are you ready to head back to the states and deliver the Cheyenne?"

Josie wasn't smiling. In fact, she looked like something was bothering her. "We have a slight problem, Tibby."

"What's that?"

"Take a look." Josie gestured to the rear seat of the Cheyenne.

I stuck my head in the door and couldn't believe my eyes. On the rear seat, wrapped in a red blanket lay a young girl, about six or seven years old.

A chill ran down my spine as I thought about the scenario. We found the little girl in an aircraft that had been recently stolen. Whoever the child was with knew the plane was hot and for some reason they had drawn the interest of the FBI. I could only draw one conclusion: we'd ended up with the daughter of some unsavory characters who would most likely use any means to deal with the vermin who'd taken her.
CHAPTER TWO

Having no idea what we were going to do with the child, I asked a stupid question, "Is she asleep?"

"Yes, I checked to make sure she's still breathing."

The girl had dark features, a full head of black hair and irresistible cheeks. "She's a cute little girl."

"Oh, she's an adorable little girl, and she came free with the Cheyenne. They must be running a special; steal a plane and get your own free child." Josie is one of the most unruffled people I've ever seen. Now in a rare display of fracturing composure, she tossed her cap into the plane and ran her fingers through her brunette hair. "I don't believe this."

She stood up, walked over to the wing and collapsed her head onto her arms. A moment later she turned around and said, "Tibby, we've got to take her back to her family."

I looked at the child again. Because she was asleep I couldn't tell, but the girl could have been a dark skinned Oriental or Hispanic. I managed, "Yes, of course, but...."

I recalled a conversation I'd had with Richard "Mad Dog" Dellerman, a trusted DEA agent who has helped us before. I told Josie, "Honey, after I talked to the FBI, I called Mad Dog to see if he knew why the FBI was so concerned about this aircraft. He told me that the bureau has recently become aware of an Oriental outfit that is smuggling counterfeit prescription medication into this country. The DEA got involved because of the similarity of this group's routes and the routes used by the European heroin smugglers. They think the outfit behind it is a spinoff of the Chinese triad known as the Shining Path. They call themselves the Green Pang. One of the principals of the outfit, Jiang Leong, has a home on Norman's Cay. So, we might have the young daughter of one of those Chinese smuggler, triad, Green Pang, shoot to kill, guys."

"It doesn't matter who she belongs to, she has to go back."

I held up a finger to acknowledge her and nervously rattled on some more. "The word is going to go out about the abduction of someone's little girl and they're going to be a hell of a lot more tenacious than if they were just trying to get the plane back." I paced a few steps. "You're right, Josie, we've got to take her back to Amberjack Cay. I just don't know how we're going to be received. I mean what do I say, here's your daughter back but I'm keeping your plane that I lifted?"

The eternal optimist said, "Maybe they'll be so glad to get their child back that they won't even think about their plane, or retaliating."

Her pessimistic partner answered, "Maybe they won't be able to get their guns out fast enough."

Josie came to me and wrapped her arms around my neck. I pulled her close, which might not have been the smartest thing for me to do, because when she gets that close to me, I lose all my judgment and will agree to anything she says.

She looked me in the eye and said, "Here's what we'll do. We wait until she wakes up. Then while I take her to the bathroom, I'll explain to her what happened and that we're taking her back home right away. Then we leave and get it over with."

"I'm all for getting it over with but we have to think about what we're going to do when we get to the island."

Josie walked back to the plane, peeked in the door, then said, "When we get there, I'll take her to the house and you wait in the plane. I think they'd be less likely to resort to violence if they saw me with the girl."

I was apprehensive about her taking that chance alone. "I'd feel better if we both went to the house."

Josie is an ex-Army Ranger and more capable of taking care of herself than I am. She has never rubbed this in, but now she was firm. "Tibby, I appreciate your concern for me, but I'll do it. You stay in the plane and be ready for a quick getaway."

I wasn't going to argue any more. "O.K. You stay here and watch her; I'll go pack our bags."

"Wait. Before you pack I want you to go in the restaurant and get a sandwich to go, peanut butter and jelly if they have it and some milk. We don't know when she ate last. When she wakes up, I'll feed her."

"OK. Good idea." I should have known that; kids have to eat — and I would do anything to delay our trip back to Amberjack Cay.

I walked to the restaurant and ordered three sandwiches, two sodas, a glass of milk to go and grabbed several bags of chips. While the sandwiches were being prepared I sat down and thought about our predicament. This was a situation that in my wildest dreams I had never considered. Of all the planes I've recovered it never dawned on me that I'd snatch a plane that had a child in it, a child whose family was very likely prone to violence. Regardless the girl was our responsibility until we managed to return her to her family.

The waitress brought my order and I headed for the plane. As I walked I tried to come up with alternative plans of action. I thought about taking the Cheyenne back to Amberjack Cay, returning the plane and the girl and telling them it was all a big mistake. My problem was no matter how I tried to make amends, we had invaded their space and taken their child and property. Most of the criminal elements aren't the forgiving type. If they have a valid reason they will take out their retribution and we had certainly given them a reason.

I also thought about turning the child over to the authorities so they could arrange for her to get back to her family. I didn't really like the idea of involving any type of law enforcement, but if the authorities took her back to Amberjack Cay the Oriental, Green Pang, triad dudes might not be as likely to pull down on them, whereas they'd sure as hell let us know what they thought of our thievery.

However, when I suggested to Josie the idea of involving the authorities, she had other ideas.

"No! Absolutely not."

"Josie, if we go back to Amberjack Cay, we might never leave the island alive. They might take their daughter back and then decide to settle the score of their aircraft."

"Gabriel, listen to me. If we take this little girl back to the authorities, you know what's going to happen. Once they find out where she came from, they're going to use her as leverage to get at her family. Someone like the FBI won't care about this little girl. To them she's just a tool. All they're concerned about is busting her family, and once they're busted she's got no family to go back to."

I didn't disagree with her assessment of the situation, but I felt the need to talk this out. "What would you think if we returned the Cheyenne with the girl and appealed to their sense of fair play?"

"I think you'd be muddying the water and knowing how the criminal mind works, they'd probably suspect a set-up. We have to avoid complicating this any more than it already is. I really think our best bet is to take the child back, explain why we have their airplane and get the hell out of there."

Another question came up. I asked, "How much experience do you have with small children?"

"A lot."

That was a relief because until Josie showed up in my life, most of my time had been spent in bars, casinos or race tracks. Those venues didn't teach me a lot about child rearing.

She explained, "When I was in my teens my mother worked full time and my dad was on the road as a long haul truck driver. During their absence I took it upon myself to raise my two little sisters through most of their early school years."

"That's good to hear. As far as our method of returning her, I don't have a better answer." With nothing else to say, "I'll go pack our bags. Be right back."

I took a cab to the hotel, packed our bags and checked out of our room, all the while thinking of how we could get the girl back to her parents and manage to depart the island alive. I was not blessed with divine intervention or even one stunning epiphany.

When I finally made it back to the airport, I didn't see Josie and the little girl was not in the Cheyenne. I looked over the parking ramp, then went into the restaurant where I'd ordered our food. I saw only two people at the counter. I went back outside and loaded the bags into the Conquest, wondering what had happened to them.

I was about ready to call Josie's cell phone when I saw them walking hand in hand out of the terminal building. Even though they weren't of the same race, they looked like they belonged together. The little girl, wearing an apprehensive smile, looked adorable in a red, yellow and blue striped top with red jeans and sneakers. Her black hair was cut short with moderate spiky bangs on her forehead and her ears barely covered. Huge dark eyes and plump cheeks rounded out a face that even I thought was precious.

Josie always looked like the girl next door. She has a tawny complexion, shoulder length brunette hair and a great figure from regular exercise. Although they were usually hidden behind sunglasses, her blue eyes could light up an NFL stadium. I was amazed at how compatible the two looked together, perhaps because of their similar innocent beauty.

Josie said, "Esmeralda had to go to the bathroom."

For some reason, I was delighted to see the little girl awake and finally meet her. In the space of a few minutes she had become a very important person in our lives and regardless of how this unfolded, I was certain we'd never forget her.

I said, "Her name is Esmeralda? Can she speak English?"

"She likes to be called Essie. She's seven years old and speaks very good English and Spanish. I explained to her that we didn't know she was asleep in the airplane and we're going to be taking her back to her parents. She's worried about leaving her family, so we'd better get moving."

"I'm ready when you are."

Josie said, "Essie, this is Tibby."

"Hi, Essie. Are you ready to go for another airplane ride?" I smiled, hoping I didn't scare her. I'm only a couple inches over six foot, so my size would intimidate her, but I've got a few scars running across my face from a bar brawl years back. I'm not someone kids warm up to quickly. She appeared to be somewhat comfortable with Josie and I knew that was a girl thing and I didn't fit in. She reached into a bag from the terminal gift shop, took out a coloring book and showed it to me with a big grin. I was tickled to see that smile.

Josie said, "Essie, we're going to go in this airplane."

Essie nodded, then tugged at Josie's sleeve. "Mis maleta."

"Your suitcase? Is that what you're saying?"

She pulled Josie over to the Cheyenne and pointed to the cargo hatch. Josie looked at me, then opened the cargo hatch.

She pulled out a child's suitcase with cartoon figures painted on it and handed it to Essie. Then she said, "Are these yours too?"

Esmeralda shook her head and said, "Mi padre's."

"Her father's." Josie said, then pulled out a duffle bag and opened it. She looked at me with the same disbelieving look I'd seen when she found Esmeralda. "Tibby, you'd better see this."

I looked. The bag was full of more one hundred dollar bills than I'd ever seen in one place.
CHAPTER THREE

In the cargo hatch I saw two more duffle bags. A quick calculation told me there had to be close to a million bucks in the three bags. I grabbed all three and headed for the Conquest, where I shoved them into the cargo compartment.

Josie wasn't in total agreement. "Tibby, what are you doing? Are you going to take it?"

I locked the cargo hatch. "I'm taking it but not for long. When we return Esmeralda to her family, returning the money at the same time might buy us some good will. In other words, it might keep us alive."

Josie said, "You're right. Good move."

Having her seal of approval helped immensely. Then something dawned on me. "Josie, you said her name was Esmeralda, and she speaks Spanish?"

"Yes, why?"

"Well, if she's Hispanic, she's certainly not the child of Oriental parents." This was great news; we didn't have the child of those Green Pang gunslingers. But, whoever's daughter we had was toting around large amount of cash in a stolen aircraft, which meant major league smuggling.

Josie helped Essie onto the steps of the Conquest and emphatically said, "Regardless, we're still taking her back to her family."

I boarded without saying a word. As I buckled myself into the left seat, I tried not to think about our dilemma but I couldn't shake the negative thoughts. Smugglers were the most suspicious and defensive people on earth. They weren't known for their forgiving nature and knew only one way to settle their scores. I suspected the fact that this was purely accidental might not come into play. Once they had their child back, it was anyone's guess what would happen to Josie and me.

After taking off from Andros Town airport, the only sound I heard was the hum of the engines; my passengers were quiet. Between packing, checking out of the hotel and eating a light lunch, it had been over three hours since we left the island. This could work against us because it gave Essie's family more time to get all worked up and plan how they were going to deal with the scoundrels who had the audacity to abduct their child and lift their plane.

I looked in back to see Josie and Essie conferring over a coloring book. If Josie was as nervous as I was, she wasn't showing it. Between the two of us, she's always been the most level headed in stressful or challenging situations, whereas I have a tendency to become agitated and uptight. She claims her military training is what accounts for her cool disposition. In this case, I wondered if she knew something I didn't.

I had to circle about thirty miles east of Amberjack Cay to wait for a rain squall to move through. As I circled, I asked Josie, "Are you heeled?"

"No. I don't plan on being there that long and if they should pat me down, I don't want to appear like I'm expecting a confrontation."

"OK. I'm carrying." I'd taken a H&K nine millimeter that I keep under the seat of the Conquest and stuck it in an ankle holster.

"You're worrying too much, Tibby."

"I couldn't agree with you more."

After the rain shower moved past the island, I lined up on final approach. There were no other aircraft parked near the house and I thought about the Cherokee that I'd seen earlier. Seeing no aircraft seemed like a better sign than if I'd seen several. For some reason I equated more aircraft to more people to more guns. Also, there was no activity on the island. My optimistic side said, quite possibly the maid will answer the door again and we'll give Essie back to her with an explanation and we'll be out of there in no time. Yeah, right.

I rolled out and parked a hundred feet from the house, with the Conquest pointing toward the runway. I didn't even want to take the time to turn around when we left. With both engines, turning, I set the parking brake, took the duffle bags to the door, then returned to the Conquest.

Josie took Essie's hand and walked to the door. I watched from the air conditioned plane and still broke out in a sweat.

My partner knocked on the door. No answer. She waited a minute, then knocked again. Still no answer. She knocked a third time, waited, then turned around and shook her head at me.

I walked to the door. Josie said, "I don't think anyone is home."

I swore under my breath. "Come on back to the plane and we'll wait for a while." We were here and I wanted to get this over with.

We all returned to the Conquest. I shut down only one engine so I could run the air conditioning. Also because I wasn't entirely comfortable shutting both down. A quick getaway, even on a single engine, was lodged in the back of my mind.

Josie said, "There's no telling when they'll be back." Then she smiled at Essie and said, "Do you know where your parents went Essie?"

Without looking up from her coloring book, the child said, "La Paz."

"Ask her if she means, La Paz, Bolivia?"

She didn't have to ask. Essie looked at me with huge dark eyes and nodded.

I searched my mental storage bank for anything I knew about La Paz. It wasn't much, except that the town is not known for its criminal activities in the manner that Bogota or Medellin are. Possibly, the cash notwithstanding, her family was not engaged in the violent activities that we'd suspected. Possibly.

Finally, I said, "I'm having a hard time believing they'd leave after their daughter went missing."

"Maybe they left because she went missing." Josie explained, "They don't know we were only after the Cheyenne. They might think someone came only with the intention of snatching their daughter. If this is the case, I'm betting they put the word out about the abduction, then ran for home to organize an effort to get her back. Also they wouldn't stay here, because they never expected anyone to return her."

I took over, "And if the kidnappers wanted to ramp up the violence, Essie's family would want to be on their home turf." Then added a brilliant thought, "Essie, honey, do you know your phone number?"

She shook her head. Not so brilliant.

I said, "We've got to break into the house."

"Why?"

"They must have some papers or something inside that will tell us how to get in touch with Essie's parents. We can call them and explain the situation." As I said it, the notion of making the initial explanation over the phone, as opposed to face-to-face, sounded very good. No one has ever been shot over the phone.

Josie let out a deep breath. She explained to Essie that we were going into the house, but would have to leave. She emphasized that we'd all be leaving together. Essie nodded, but even I could tell that she had some questions. Josie hugged her and said, "OK, let's go."

Josie picked the lock while I watched the air for incoming planes. We had a plausible justification for having their daughter, but if Essie's family returned it would be hard to explain why we broke into their house.

When she opened the door, Josie said, "I'm taking Essie to her room to get some clean clothes and toys. You find the information you need, fast."

We went our separate ways. I followed a hallway to a room that was used as an office. Most of the desk drawers were locked, but after a couple of minutes I found something in a box with the name Roberto Ortega and an address on Rua Vittorio in La Paz. Nothing with a phone number. I wondered if this was an alias or his real name. That was something I hadn't considered. If he used an alias it could make finding him next to impossible. More searching turned up nothing else, so I joined the ladies. As we walked to the plane Essie, undoubtedly confused, was fighting tears.

After departing Amberjack Cay I looked in back. Essie was sitting on Josie's lap, wrapped in her arms. The tears had abated, but Josie was still talking in a soothing voice to her new friend. I hoped the child was feeling better about her predicament, but I couldn't blame her if she didn't have a grasp of what was taking place. I didn't either.

Josie asked, "Have you decided where we're going?"

I had but in the confusion, neglected to mention it to her. "How about Swordfish Cay?" Several months ago we'd spent a few days there after a job. On short notice it was the only refuge I could think of.

"Good idea. It's off the beaten path, not one of the usual tourist stops and we won't have to clear customs. Plus, they've got a good store there so we don't have to stop anywhere else to stock up on groceries and supplies. Let's go."

I was going, at two hundred and sixty knots.

Just after landing my cell phone rang. "This is Tibby."

I heard Mad Dog's voice. "Hey old man, I don't know if you're going to defer to the FBI or not, but I thought I'd call you in case you're going to ignore their warning. A Cheyenne like the one you're looking for was spotted at Norman's Cay. It departed but chances are it will be returning. If you're going to grab it, you might keep that in mind, but I didn't tell you."

Right now, the plane was the least of our worries and it sounded to me that the plane that was seen was the same one that we had later taken.

"Hey, Tibby. You still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Listen, thanks for the heads up. We're going to keep the peace and stay away from Norman's Cay."

"I think that's a good idea. Let me know if I can help with anything else."

"Sure, you bet. Thanks, Mad Dog."

I climbed out of my seat to find the two girls in a conversation about which game they were going to play once we got checked in. I was tickled to death that Essie was not as upset at missing her family, but that didn't make our daunting task of finding them any easier.

Again Josie would say I was worrying too much and she'd be right, because somewhere, someone was looking for this little girl. They'd also be looking to settle a score.
CHAPTER FOUR

Bent over a stubborn, lifeless boat engine. Roberto Ortega heard the plane land. Because the runway was on the other side of his house, he couldn't see the aircraft, but suspected it was someone else who had landed on his runway by mistake. There were four or five island runways within fifty miles and Amberjack Cay seemed to be the easiest to find, even if it wasn't the right destination.

A minute later when he heard the plane depart, he shook his head in disbelief, wondering how so many people flew around the islands, without knowing where they really were. With a sigh, he returned to his task of trying to fire up the houseboat engine.

On his next attempt to start the motor, he got a puff of white smoke and two coughs as if it was trying to start. In an effort to coax it into life, Roberto frantically wiggled the throttle mechanism, then shouted a string of obscenities. As if to appease him, the engine ran rough, coughing, sputtering and threatening to die. It had just begun to settle into an even hum when Roberto heard Willy yelling at him.

"Hey boss," The native Californian, who'd started working for Roberto ten years ago, ran toward him shouting excitedly. "Someone just made off with the Cheyenne."

Roberto stood up trying to comprehend what he was hearing. Slender and tall with a full head of black hair combed straight back, Roberto Ortega was not an attractive man. His large nose and mouth were worthy of a caricature; his deep set eyes appeared too close together. However, his domineering presence was felt by anyone who came in contact with the Colombian and he used this to his advantage. Roberto had learned early in life that you eat, or get eaten. So far no one had even nibbled on the former drug lord.

"What?"

Excitedly pointing toward the runway, Willy explained, "Someone landed. 'Dis broad comes to the door and claims she's looking for Chub Cay. Maria tells her where it is. The plane takes off. I'm in the kitchen when 'dis is going on. A minute later I step outside and see two planes climbing out west of here and the Cheyenne is gone. Someone stole the plane, boss."

Roberto was digesting Willy's account of the past few minutes, when he saw Juanita coming toward him, frantically waving her arms and crying out loud. He walked toward her.

"Roberto, Roberto, they took Essie." Crying hysterically his portly wife threw her arms around his neck. "Oh, my God, they took our daughter, Roberto! How do we get her back?"

Roberto held his wife at arm's length. "Juanita, easy now, calm yourself. What do you mean they took Essie?"

Wiping her tears on a shirt sleeve, she tried to speak slowly, "Someone took your plane. Essie was asleep in the plane. They took our daughter, Roberto!"

Just as distraught and bawling out loud, Esmeralda's nursemaid, Maria, tearfully explained what had happened. "Essie was asleep when we landed, so I let her sleep in the plane. It has happened before and I always let her sleep but I always check on her every few minutes. This time I was busy and when the woman come to the door, I didn't think...." Heaping grief and guilt upon herself, she couldn't utter the words.

Roberto knew that reliving the tragedy wouldn't help get his daughter back. He asked the servant one question, "Maria, think now. Did you notice what type of plane they were flying?"

Trying to recall anything that would be helpful, Maria buried her tear stained face in her hands, then shook her head and said, "No, Señor. I didn't notice that. I was in a hurry because I was fixing lunch. That's why I didn't check on the girl. I'm so sorry, Señor."

Roberto lay a calming hand on her shoulder. "That's OK, Maria. We'll get her back. It wasn't your fault." Since hiring on as Essie's nursemaid, the young woman had become an integral part of the family. Juanita and Roberto were pleased with the role she often had to play as surrogate parent. Because of their gratitude they wouldn't blame her now.

Roberto wasn't sure exactly what had transpired. However, instincts developed in many years of criminal activities, told him that if someone returned to the island looking for them, this was the worst place they could be. They had to return to La Paz where he could organize a search for his daughter. He told Juanita and Maria, "Go back to the house and get ready to leave for La Paz. We'll be taking off in the Cherokee as soon as I talk to Willy."

Arms around each other the two tearful women walked slowly toward the house. Roberto turned to his trusted bodyguard. "Willy, we'd better get off this island. Take the Donzi, go to Grand Bahama and spread the word about what has happened. Make sure everyone knows that my estate is posting a reward of one million dollars for the safe return of my child. Contact every airport in the Caribbean to advise them of the missing child, my aircraft and the reward. Use whatever resources are necessary to find my child."

Willy thought he knew the answer to his next question, but this was no time to assume anything. "Do you want me to contact the authorities?"

"Not yet, Willy. Maybe later, but not now." Roberto didn't think the law enforcement organizations could do anything that his network couldn't. If he didn't get any results in a day or two, he might contact the FBI, but he didn't want them to know that he was still alive.

"What about the money? Should I mention that they got the cash too?"

"No, I don't want Jiang Leong hearing about it." Ortega had just begun negotiations with the Oriental gangster about a possible partnership in Leong's counterfeit pharmaceutical business. The cash in his plane had been a down payment that would secure his exclusive territory for his own distribution network in South America. At this stage in their relationship, he didn't want Leong to know that all of his down payment had been stolen.

"I got 'cha, boss." Willy ran to the boathouse. A minute later the roar of the engines filled the air. The sleek and powerful ocean racer shot out of the boathouse and turned southeast toward Nassau.

After Willy left Roberto's thoughts turned to the people who could be responsible for his daughter's abduction. He didn't think it had been done by someone from Colombia. Kidnapping a small child didn't bear the trademark of the cartels. He'd known some people who'd resorted to kidnapping, but it had always been extreme circumstances, such as a large turf battle or inducement to settle a debt. And as far as everyone in Cali knew, he was dead. However, someone out there realized that he was still alive and they thought he'd pay dearly for the return of his daughter.

Although he'd gotten out of the cocaine business for several reasons, the most important factor was the arrival of his daughter, Esmeralda. Several months before the child was due, Juanita Ortega had implored Roberto to get out of the drug business, so they could move out of Colombia to a location where they'd be able to live respectable lives and raise their child without the dark clouds of smuggling and violence hanging over their heads.

Two months before his disappearance, he moved his daughter and wife to four hundred acre estate he'd bought ten miles outside the capital city of La Paz, Bolivia. Without telling anyone about his plans to leave Cali, Roberto arranged for an explosion and fire at one of his cocaine processing labs. He knew there wouldn't be a thorough investigation into the conflagration and hoped his coincidental disappearance would lead people to believe he'd perished in the inferno.

For the first years of her life, Esmeralda had proven to be the precious gem that the Ortega's had always wanted. They doted on her and arranged for their daughter to attend the most prestigious private schools. Another extravagance that Roberto and Juanita had planned for Essie was training her to become an Olympic swimming champion. They built a new heated pool and hired an aquatic coach who began training Essie at the age of three. By her seventh birthday, the child was swimming twenty laps daily. Now Roberto had to wonder if he'd ever see his precious daughter again.

At the resort on Swordfish Cay Josie found a television station with cartoons for Essie, then joined me on the balcony where we could talk without the child's inquisitive ears picking up anything.

Josie said, "I've been thinking. We need to get Essie a passport. We don't need it right now but depending on where we have to go to return her, we should have one available."

"I can get her a passport."

"Where can you get a passport for a child that we know nothing about?"

"His name is T-Bone McCluskey."

"T-Bone? That sounds like another crony from your drinking and gambling days."

I heard the stress in Josie's voice and thought how ironic it was. Two months ago we had stolen a jet from under the noses of armed guards in Somalia and gotten shot at in the process, which didn't faze her in the least. Now with a child's welfare involved, she was making an issue out of someone's name.

"Honey, you know as well as I do that out here we have to deal with people who might not be Harvard professors but they can get things done when I need them done without the transaction coming back to bite me. T-Bone is one of the best at what he does."

She raised an eyebrow. "What does he do?"

"He's a counterfeiter. Where else are you going to get a hot passport, on E-bay?"

"Does your Mr. T-Bone counterfeit money too?"

"That's generally a counterfeiter's stock in trade." It came out more sarcastic than I intended. A weak smile didn't help.

More of her stress surfaced. "Wonderful. Now when he gets caught, he can take us down with him."

"I'm not worried. He's been at this for years and is savvy enough to avoid the common mistakes counterfeiters make. Most of his work is in countries where their currency is not as sophisticated as the U.S. In many cases, he avoids the large denominations and sticks to the small change because they don't check it as closely. Hell, he made phony American dimes out of his garage for two years and cleared a couple million before he left the states."

Essie wandered out and took Josie's hand while explaining that she needed someone to play Hungry, Hungry Hippos. As Josie was leaving she said, "Get it."
CHAPTER FIVE

T-Bone McCluskey had been residing in Puerto Cortes, Costa Rica for about a year now. I hadn't talked to him in several months, ever since I needed a phony Brazilian driver's license for a friend of a client. When he answered, it sounded like he'd started his cocktail hour early.

"Yeah, man. What can I do for you?"

"T-Bone, this is the aircraft recovery guy."

He knew this meant business and suddenly sounded sober. "Well, I'll be damned. How's the airborne repo business?"

I was glad he was intuitive enough not to mention my name, but I didn't want to get into any casual conversations right now. I had decided to get two more passports for Josie and I, just in case it became advantageous to work under an alias. I came right to the point. "I need three passports. What's your time element right now?"

"As soon as you can get useable photos and the information on your clientele to me, you'll have the goods in two days at the latest."

"Can you work with e-mail photos?"

"Shoot me a high-res image file and I'll have my lab edit and print it. That's the only way you're going to get a product that will sail past a customs inspector."

I thought about Wi-Fi service on this island. It probably didn't have it, but I'd find it somewhere. "I'll do that as soon as possible and I'll include the delivery address in the e-mail. What's the going rate?"

A slight hesitation as he pondered how much he could get out of me without scaring me away. "For three, since you're a repeat customer, only fifteen large in U.S. dollars."

"I'll have my secretary wire half of the payment today, rest on delivery. Do you want it sent to the same bank in Colon, Panama?"

"That's fine. I'll let you know when the finished product leaves here via Fed Ex."

"Thanks, T-Bone."

I hung up and sat down on the balcony. This transaction meant we were getting ourselves deeper into illegal activities. If we managed to get Essie safely back to her family, the end would justify the means. My concern was the more we strayed from the law the greater the chances were that someone, on either side of the law, would step in and for one reason or another put a halt to our plan. If that happened all the good intentions in the world wouldn't help us or Essie.

I walked back into the room. Josie said, "When will we have the passport?"

"Two days at the latest. I've got to take a photo of Essie."

I was getting my camera out to take the photo when Josie came up and put her arms around me. "I'm sorry I was getting testy. I'm just concerned about Essie and worried that this T-Bone character might cause us some problems."

"Sweetheart, I'm worried about Essie too. However, I don't foresee any problems getting the passport and I don't see any reason why Essie shouldn't be back with her family in a few days."

Josie kissed me on the cheek. I considered myself lucky to get that.

In a rented van one block east of T-Bone McCluskey's beach house, two American agents from the US Immigration and Customs Enforcement bureau listened to a tape of the phone conversation between Tibby and T-Bone. They had tapped T-Bone's phone in hopes of finding incriminating evidence to confirm their suspicions that he'd been counterfeiting green identification cards for illegal Mexican immigrants to get into the U.S. They hadn't found that yet, but during the conversation they discovered his involvement in the production and trafficking of phony passports.

After listening to the tape for a third time one of the agent called his office in San Jose, Costa Rica. He gave them the number that Tibby had called from and instructed his office to find out who the aircraft recovery specialist was and if he figured in any open cases.

An hour later the agent's phone rang. "The person you're looking for is most likely a Gabriel Thibodeaux. He's an independent aircraft recovery specialist who has been in touch with the FBI's Miami office in regards to an aircraft he was tracking in the Caribbean. They ordered him not to recover the subject aircraft."

The agent had no idea why this person would need phony passports, but the reason was immaterial. He replied, "Put out a BOLO on him and tell all agents involved to pick him up as soon as possible. Also notify the FBI about this." The request to notify the FBI came begrudgingly, but all federal agents had recently received a strongly worded memo about improving cooperation between all agencies and bureaus, and the career ending repercussions if this wasn't done.

The agent on the other end explained why they'd have a hard time locating the subject. "We don't know where he is and we haven't been able to get a trace on his cell phone. Unless you guys can come up with an address on that end, or have NSA trace him, we can't locate him. I will bring in the FBI on this."

With a sigh, the agent said, "O.K., we'll wait. If we get an indication that this McCluskey character has sent out the phony passports, we'll pick him up and squeeze him until he sings about Thibodeaux."

With Chinese art adorning every wall, an eclectic assortment of live plants and three colorful aquariums, the Peking Palace one of the most elegant Oriental restaurants in Miami. However, as if they were thumbing their nose at the posh surroundings, two of the Palace's wealthiest patrons chose to take their meals at a corner table in the kitchen.

Jiang and Tamiko Leong's affluent appearance made them look even more out of place in the noisy, bustling kitchen, but this was their choice; remaining invisible was their primary concern.

Tamiko didn't resemble an ex-prostitute who once ran a whore house in Beijing that employed thirty women. Her coal black hair was salon neat with a moderate curly in a conservative length. Today she wore a Kelly green Von Furstenburg blazer with a black silk blouse that featured brocade tea cup roses in burgundy, green and gold. The blouse alone had set her back eight hundred dollars, but she had long ago quit worrying about prices. Since leaving the Orient they had been clearing over two million a year in their varied criminal enterprises. As of today they were focusing all of their attention on the business of smuggling counterfeit pharmaceutical medication from a Turkish warehouse, through Europe and into the US via the Canadian maritime provinces.

As soon as two Saki martinis were served, Jiang, in a blue Armani suit and ivory open necked shirt, turned the conversation to business. "Have you thought anymore about taking on Roberto Ortega as our South American distributor?"

Tamiko laced her fingers under her chin and hesitated a few seconds, choosing her words carefully. "I think he'd be good for us in the respect that he'd be able to keep a tight rein on the people below him in the distribution lines. This should minimize skimming and theft. I would think that his experience at smuggling contraband has taught him to trust no one and to eliminate anyone who might be getting too ambitious. In that sense, I think he'd be much better than any of the other prospects you've interviewed."

Knowing his wife wasn't finished, Jiang nodded.

Tamiko continued, "I do have some concerns though. You know how the cartel people conduct their business. There is not an ounce of loyalty in any of them and they'll turn on you in a second, often times with no reason, just on an impulse. We'll have to watch him closely."

Again Jiang nodded his head. Although his wife's background was of questionable virtue, her business savvy and intuition regarding people could not be denied. In the year since he started smuggling counterfeit pharmaceuticals into the US, he'd often relied heavily on her advice and had yet to regret it.

She paused to dab at the corners of her mouth, then said, "As long as you keep yourself insulated from him, so he can't hurt you, he'll probably work out fine. Just don't reveal any more of the operation to him, than is absolutely necessary. There is always the possibility that the law will pick him up. If he doesn't know anything, he can't talk. Also, you have to be ready to have Yao eliminate him if he gets greedy or if his operation is not aligned with our overall plans."

They sipped their drinks. With a raised eyebrow and slight grin, Tamiko asked, "Do you agree?"

"I do. I know that working with people from the cartel can be problematic but Ortega has been clean for a few years. I really think he's ready for a more civilized enterprise."

A waiter appeared with their dinners. When he left Tamiko said, "Keep a close eye on him."
CHAPTER SIX

Later that evening after Essie had gone to bed, Josie and I were discussing our incredibly awkward situation. I was probably telling her what she'd already figured out, but wanted to make sure we were both on the same page. "I suspect that Essie's parents have put the word out on the underworld network that their daughter is missing and they'll pay a handsome reward to have her returned. I don't think they'll call the authorities, although in South America the gap between lawful and lawless is very narrow. Ortega could have some sort of cops on his payroll, in which case, they'll be as hot on our trail as anyone else."

"Do you think that was his money, or cash that was being transferred?"

"I don't know. If it was being transferred from one person to another, there could be someone out there besides Essie's parents who is looking for their money. To many people this much money is as dear as a small child. Also, people who deal in this much cash are often paranoid. They could be under the impression that whoever took the plane, with their money in it, was targeting them."

I paused to open a cold soda. "Once we've got the passport for Essie, we'll be able to move around more if we need to, but with a bogus passport in our possession, I don't want to show it any more customs inspectors than I absolutely have to."

"Good idea. I think you should fly down to La Paz and talk to the Ortegas as soon as possible. I'll stay here with Essie and wait for the passport."

"I hope I can find them. I have an address, but as much as I wanted one, I couldn't find a phone number." I opted for humor. "Imagine that; a smuggler having an unlisted number."

Josie gave me that look.

I thought about using my own passport in South America. I didn't think anyone would be watching for mine, but with more and more people becoming involved in this, I would have used a phony passport if I had one.

Josie brought up a good point that I should have thought of. "If Essie's family offers a reward, it's going to bring all sorts of gutter slime out of the woodwork. If someone tracks us down after you leave, Essie and I have no way off the island. I could rent a boat but I wouldn't want to head out into blue water without an experienced sailor on board."

She was right. There were no rental aircraft on the island and the commuter flights to Nassau only operated once a day. In essence, once I left for La Paz, she and Essie would be trapped here.

"I know a guy who runs a charter service out of Grand Bahama. I'll call him and see if he can send a boat over here to stand by until I get back. That way if the wrong people show up, you can at least get off the island."

Josie gave me sideways glance that said she would much prefer an aircraft. "How long will it take him to get here?"

"I'll find out." I searched my smart phone for R. C. Clayton, then dialed the number.

"Clayton Charters, this is Mike."

"Is R.C. around? Tell him it's Tibby."

I heard sounds in the back ground like someone moving furniture, then the gruff voice of the skipper. "Tibby. What the hell do you want?"

"I need a charter. Do you have any boats available?"

"With this damned economy, all my boats are available. Where to?"

"I'll be leaving soon, but I'd like you to come over to Swordfish Cay and take a couple people out for a cruise once or twice in the next few days. We'll need the boat to stay here until I get back. Regardless of how long you're here, I'll pay for two weeks."

It didn't take him long to decide that this might be easy money even though something about the arrangement sounded kind of fishy. To cover himself Clayton said, "I don't wanna get mixed up in anything illegal. I'm on probation, you know."

I did. He'd done time for assault in a bar brawl. It was a joint in Ocho Rios, Jamaica where some guys made the mistake of trying to roll him in the parking lot. Rocky put three of them in the hospital. Everyone saw it as self defense, except the judge.

"I know you are, Rocky, and there is nothing illegal about this. Trust me. I just need a boat handy in case my friend decides that she wants to get off the island."

"Well, all right." He was still leery. "I can leave in a couple of hours. Should be there by tomorrow afternoon. Who do I look for?"

"I'll be here, Rocky. If you're coming tomorrow, I won't leave until Friday. What kind of boat are you bringing?"

"I'll be in the Bertram fifty-eight. Two weeks would normally come to fifty-six hundred dollars. For you it'll be five even and I'll need half when I get there. I'll have all my gear in case these people want to go fishing?"

Five thousand. Added to the price of the passport, this was turning into an extreme case of deficit spending, but I had no choice. "See you tomorrow, Rocky."

"He'll be here late tomorrow." Josie nodded, but I could tell she still wanted something with wings.

My phone rang and I saw my office number in Scottsdale. "Hello, Margaret. How are you today?"

Margaret Swanson should have had a name tag that read: the world's greatest secretary. She put up with my antics, lied when I needed her to, loved Josie and didn't take any crap from anyone. Even though she swore like a sailor and sometimes started on her Manhattans in mid afternoon, I'd often thought if I could clone her, the copies would bring a premium price and many businesses would be much better off.

She didn't tell me how she was, but said, "Catherine Wilder called from Sarasota. She's as pissed off as a high-priced writer can get and even used some words I didn't think an author would use. Bottom line is, she wants to know if you've found her plane yet."

I thought about the Cheyenne we'd taken, that was sitting at Andros Town but wouldn't be delivered to its owner until we'd reunited Essie with her family. I felt terrible about his but there was nothing I could do. "Tell her I haven't found it yet, but I think we've got some pretty good leads."

Nothing got past Margaret. "What's the matter? You sound like someone is holding a gun to your head."

I explained what had transpired in the recent past. "Holy shit, Tibby! Jesus H. Christ, what're you going to do?"

"We're trying to locate her parents so we can return her." I didn't go into the details.

"I'm certainly glad Josie is there to take care of the little girl."

"Margaret, are you saying I couldn't have taken care of her."

"Boss, I'm saying I'm glad Josie is there. Leave it at that."

It stung, but I left it there. "While I've got you, send a wire for fifteen grand to T-Bone McCluskey's bank in Panama."

"Why are you paying that worm fifteen yards?"

I was getting sick and tired of everyone taking shots at my associates, but didn't want to debate anyone's character now. "It's for some phony passports."

"Be careful, Tibby. Those things have a way of bringing the heat down on top of you."

"Yes, Mother." I clicked off deciding I'd take Margaret a couple cases of Jamaican rum when this was over. Booze makes everything OK.

Josie had heard half of the conversation, so I filled her in. "Margaret thinks you're better with kids than I am and she's worried about the bogus passports."

"She's not the only one."
CHAPTER SEVEN

We had just finished dinner when my phone rang again. I heard T-Bone and from the wind noise I thought he was in a car. "Hey pal, this is T-Bone. Ah, I've got a problem. See, I've got a few people in the 'hood who keep an eye out for any law who might be snooping around. One of them is the bartender at a corner joint who noticed a van, with some official looking dip-shits in it, sitting near the phone junction box. He sent one of the regulars down to warn me and after hiding all my incriminating stuff, I evacuated my home, tout de suite. I called my man at the phone company and he verified they're tapped into all my lines and monitoring my phone calls. So, I'm switching to plan B for the time being and I don't know when I'll be back in my place."

"Will I still get the passports?"

"I finished the one for Esmeralda. It's being over-nighted it as we speak. I don't know when I'll get to the other two."

Several points came to mind: We got the passport we needed; Josie and I could do without ours. I hadn't used my name, but I had used my occupation, which could lead to my name. Worse, I ordered phony passports. That meant in addition to the Ortegas and the men who wanted their money back, some government outfit could be closing in on us.

I remembered the phone. "Can they tell where you sent the passport?"

"No. I checked for a tail on my way to the Fed Ex drop. I was clean."

That was what I wanted to hear, but it didn't totally relieve my anxiety. "Why did they target you?"

"Well, Tibby, a while back business was slow, so I ran off a few green cards for a guy who was running some illegal Mexican nationals up to Tucson from Hermosillo. The dumbass got caught and I think he cut a deal with the D.A. and ratted me out."

I never would have stuck up for the guy if I knew he'd pulled a bonehead move like that. At least he thought to warn me. "Thanks for the call, T-Bone."

"Sorry. I think you're OK, but keep an eye on your back."

Nothing like stating the obvious.

Josie saw my reaction to the call. "That didn't sound good; what did he want?"

"T-Bone found out that someone had his phones tapped. We're going to get the passport for Essie but not ours." I tried to sound casual, but should have known better. Josie would be all over this.

"Damn it, Tibby." She never would have gotten this upset if Essie wasn't involved. "Can they trace your cell phone?"

"I don't think so. I'm pretty sure it has to be transmitting for them to get a GPS fix on it. Of course, there's no telling what kind of technology NSA has."

Josie flopped down on a sofa and said, "I don't know, maybe we should just wait for the law to show up and give them...." She didn't finish, but looked at Essie who was engrossed in the tube.

"We can't. We've ordered phony passports which is a felony. We can't just holler kings-x and expect them to overlook our indiscretions."

Josie fixed her blue eyes on me. "They don't know about me, do they?"

I thought about this. I hadn't used Josie's name in any of the phone conversations. The only person who knew about her was Mad Dog and he wasn't chasing us that I knew of. As far as the government knew, I was a lone operator. I sat down with them. "No. The only person they know about is me."

"You need to leave for Bolivia as soon as you can. Find the Ortegas so we can return Josie to her home, then we'll worry about keeping you out of jail."

I felt like a rat deserting a sinking ship. "Rocky won't be here until...."

She didn't let me finish. "We'll be OK. Get going."

Willy Cameron was shorter than most men and slight of frame. He made up for his physical inequities with an aggressive demeanor that could not be ignored and was always armed to the teeth. The two dozen men he'd killed on orders from Señor Ortega were a testimony to his cold-blooded dedication.

He idled the cigarette boat into a marina at Grants Town on New Providence Island, then hailed a cab, "Nassau International Airport and make it snappy."

"Yes, sir, I'll take Kennedy Drive, be there in less than fifteen minutes."

"That's great. Say is the West End Airport still open?"

"Oh yes, sir. They got the Old Bahama Bay hotel out there now. Lots of the divers fly in there, several cargo flights every day too."

"Oh yeah? Well, I'll be flying in there myself soon." Willy knew after stealing an aircraft from the international airport, he couldn't return there. If he absolutely had to return to the island, an out of the way airport would serve him well.

During his tenure for Roberto, Willy had stolen several aircraft that were used to haul drug shipments, so finding transportation was nothing new to him. He'd gotten to the point where he didn't even worry too much about getting caught because by now he was familiar with and knew how to circumvent all of the airport security features used in the Caribbean.

Upon arriving at the international airport he saw a Beechcraft King Air on the parking ramp that would be his first choice because it was a turbo-prop and he needed something fast. Willy realized that if the King Air was gone when he returned he might have to settle for some other aircraft. Scanning the parking ramp he saw his second choice, a twin-engine Cessna Titan parked nearby.

After picking out his aircraft and looking over the layout, lighting and fences at the airport Willy caught another cab back to the marina. Once back in the boat he began making phone calls. Many of his old contacts were no longer among the living, but he succeeded in reaching about a dozen people. He explained what had happened to Señor Ortega's daughter and gave them a description of the child. As Willy had expected, most of the people he talked to expressed their astonishment that the former drug kingpin was still alive. Willy didn't dwell on that but emphasized the reward instead. The devious criminal realized that closure in the kidnapping would come from greed, not from loyalty to Ortega.

After he spread the word through the contraband community, Willy began calling airports throughout the islands. These were law abiding people so he had to deliver his message in a slightly different manner, but he was savvy enough to let them know that one phone call, if it resulted in finding Esmeralda Ortega, could make them rich.

When Willy called the number listed for the Swordfish Cay airport, he heard a recording, which didn't surprise him. At many island airports that had little aviation activity, the airport office was in the airport manager's home or not manned unless a scheduled feeder flight was due in or out. In these cases Willy left a message about the missing child with his phone number. Then he made a note in his airport guide. He planned on calling each airport back until he talked to someone in person.

His next step was to call marinas. Because of the sheer number of marinas this was more time consuming, but to Willy it was just another step in the process that he would continue until he found someone who'd sighted the child. His loyalty to Señor Ortega ran deep enough that someone abducting his boss's child was tantamount to them taking his own child. In this case, however, he knew once the child was returned to her family, Señor Ortega would let him deal with the kidnappers in any manner he deemed appropriate. He wouldn't finish them off quickly.
CHAPTER EIGHT

After thinking about the situation I told Josie, "You're right and I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight, so I might as well leave now. With the time changes, I can be in Cali by one o'clock. There's no use in waiting until morning to take off."

"I agree, hit the road."

I threw some clothes and toiletries into a duffle bag. Doing this reminded me of the three duffle bags in the Conquest that were filled with pictures of Ben Franklin. I yelled to Josie, "I'm not taking the cash with me. Traveling around South America with seven hundred and fifty grand is like asking to get shot."

"Good idea. Besides, I might want to go shopping."

Was that humor I heard? "When Rocky gets here you can hide it on his boat if you want to. He's trustworthy and is always well armed." As soon as I said this it dawned on me that I'd also told her how crafty T-Bone was, until he got caught.

She just asked, "Is Rocky as good of a shot as I am?"

"You know he's not, but I'd still hide it on the boat."

She made a noise that I took as agreement.

Having everything I needed, I left for the airport. The girls went with so Josie could take charge of the duffle bags. I kissed her and she said, "Don't take any chances down there. If you can't locate them, come on back and we'll find another way to get in touch with them."

"OK, call me when Rocky gets here."

The last thing I heard was Essie's tiny voice, "Bye, Tibby. Be careful." Leaving became much harder.

At the airport I started the Conquest's engines and dug out my charts. It was a little over a thousand miles to Barranquilla, Colombia, which is well within the Conquest's range unless I had to deviate around a weather system. The last time I looked at the Weather Channel there were no active systems in my route of flight, so I was comfortable making my fuel stop on the Columbian coastline.

I decided to depart, pick up a thorough weather briefing and air-file my flight plan over the Exumas giving Long Cay as my point of departure. That way if my name on the flight plan or aircraft tail number drew any interest, it wouldn't lead anyone to Swordfish Cay.

I departed into clear skies and ten knot winds from the east. Under a blanket of endless stars I climbed to sixteen-thousand, five-hundred feet and set a course for the Port au Prince, Haiti until I cleared Cuban airspace. Thirty minutes after departing, I called the Flight Service Station and filed my flight plan. Shortly thereafter, San Juan Center gave me my control instructions, "Conquest Four-Four Charlie-Charlie, Center, San Juan altimeter, two-niner-niner-six. Climb and maintain flight level two-four-zero. Fly heading two-one-zero until you're able, then proceed direct Barranquilla."

"Thank you, Center, I'm able to go GPS direct now, heading two-zero-five. I'm leaving one-seven-thousand for flight level two-four-zero."

With the autopilot engaged and ideal weather for flying, I had a chance to think over all aspects of our situation with no interruptions. My first thoughts were of Josie and the task she had of safe-guarding Essie. Actually, if I'd had a chance to pick some for that job, I couldn't have chosen anyone better. By all observations Esmeralda was taking to her like a big sister and enjoying their time together, in spite of being separated from her family. As far as Josie's ability to deal with any of the scum who showed up to collect the reward, thanks to her military training and fearless demeanor, the odds were stacked in her favor.

This stirred my memory of the first time I met Josie. I had placed an ad in several newspapers looking for a co-pilot. The job I'd taken involved recovering a Cessna Citation jet that had been hijacked by a war lord in the battle ravaged country of Somalia. Most of the people who had responded to the ad changed their mind when they found out how dangerous the job would be. Josie walked into my office and asked if I was still looking for a pilot.

I said, "I am, but I have to warn you up front that it's a very dangerous job in Somalia."

"OK." She threw her Airmen's Certificates on my desk.

I saw a commercial, instrument, multi-engine and airline transport rating. From these I knew she had several thousand hours of flying time, but I thought she might not have understood the hazardous nature of the job. I said, "Innocent people are getting shot in Somalia."

"Innocent people are getting shot in Phoenix."

No one has ever been hired as quickly as I hired Josie. Since that moment my respect and admiration for Josie has grown steadily. All things considered, Essie was in good hands.

Next I considered the task ahead of me. The normal reaction for someone like Ortega would be to spread the word about his missing daughter as wide and far as possible. I hoped that along with getting the word out, he would give people who had some useful information a means of getting in touch with him.

The only complication I could see was the people I had to deal with between me and Ortega. In certain areas of South America the locals see strangers, either as a threat or as a means of making money. Their methods of dealing with threats or making money often involved violence. Because I was a stranger with a plane, I might be both, but I could bet the farm that as I made my fuel stops closer to Colombia, people would be talking about me and they would remember me. This might work in my favor for finding Ortega, but I had to keep my guard up.

The fuel and meal stop at Barranquilla provided no surprises. The ramp attendant, whose name tag identified him as Raul, spoke passable English and was talkative. I let the conversation take its course, starting with his compliment, "That's a nice Conquest, Señor. You take good care of it."

"Thank you. I try to because the last thing I want are problems popping up while I'm cruising in the flight levels."

Raul said, "I once had my own Piper Cub until it was totaled in a violent storm and the insurance company went out of business before settling up."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Raul. I know how you must feel."

He smiled. "I'm saving my money for a used Cessna One-Seventy-Two. Next year I should have enough saved up."

After he finished washing the windows, Raul asked, "Are you down here on business, Señor?"

"Not really. I'm flying down to La Paz to see a friend."

I decided not to drop Ortega's name yet because I was still too far from Bolivia. However, my next fuel stop was in Cali. They would know the name there.
CHAPTER NINE

Because he didn't want to get into any long conversations with Jiang Leong, Roberto Ortega directed Willy to contact the Oriental smuggler. He wasn't the most eloquent speaker so Willy took his time and composed his spiel beforehand, then called with his message, "Mr. Leong, my name is Willy Camerena. I'm an associate of Roberto Ortega. He's traveling so he couldn't reach you and wanted me to contact you to inform you that to his down payment for the initial shipment of merchandise will be late. He also said to tell you that he deeply regrets this and you should be receiving the down payment within a week. He appreciates your patience and understanding."

Jiang merely answered, "Thank you for calling, Mr. Camerena. Tell Señor Ortega that I await his payment and look forward to doing business with him."

Leong had been in the business long enough that this was no surprise to him and he wanted Ortega's involvement bad enough that he'd wait for the Colombian to come up with the cash. Also Jiang was in no real hurry because he still had a few South American politicians and customs officials who had to be paid off before he could start shipping his merchandise, which was four thousand cartons of counterfeit pharmaceuticals that were waiting in St John's, Newfoundland.

Later that day over lunch at Miami Beach's Royal Palm Hotel, Jiang told Tamiko, "One of Ortega's men called. His down payment will be late, but I'm not surprised. There are always problems moving that much cash around. We've still got some people to bring in line down in South America so I'll give him a week or two and request a time when we can get together."

Tamiko hesitated with a fork full of salad in mid air. "There's no reason not to give him some latitude on his down payment because we don't need the cash right now. When you talk to him find out if he has any people in mind for secondary distributors."

"Good point, I'll do that."

The next afternoon, Josie lay Essie down for nap about one thirty. Before the girl fell asleep, they talked for a few minutes, "Honey, we're trying to find your parents as soon as we can. I hope you'll be back with them within a few days. Until that happens, we'll have some time together to play games and read your new books. And, in a day or two we'll get to go for a boat ride out on the ocean. How does that sound?"

Essie nodded, then said, "I'd like that. Maybe we can even find some dolphins." She paused to find a book. "Tomorrow I want to read Madeleine's New Kitty again. Is that OK?"

"Whatever you want, Essie. You just tell me."

Once Essie had dozed off Josie realized how much she'd grown to adore the little girl in a short span of time. This prompted thoughts about her and Tibby having children one day after they'd moved into a business that carried less risk. They'd never discussed having children, but then they'd never been exposed to the innocent charm and joy of a child. She decided to bring it up as soon as Essie was back with her family and they weren't under so much pressure.

After leaving the bedroom Josie took her nine millimeter out of her suitcase and shoved it into a waistband holster under her shirt. Then she went outside the room and looked toward the airstrip. If anyone landed they would be visible from her room so she'd see them before they saw her. Also, anyone looking for her would have to ask for her at the resort office, so that would also give her time to make a getaway.

The complex was laid out so the runway was at the north end of the island, wedged in between two shorelines. The aircraft parking ramp was just south of the runway and the manager's office was located on the east end of the parking ramp. The forty yellow duplex units that comprised the resort were stretched across the middle of the island, laid out so the beach was convenient to either side of the resort. The boats docks, general store and marina were south of the resort, but still within walking distance of the airport.

If she and Essie had to leave the island by boat, they might be able to do so, without anyone seeing them, but they'd have to be quick about it. Now, more than ever, she wished R.C. was here with a means of escape. Even though it was several miles long the island felt small and for once in her life, she felt vulnerable.

As Catherine Wilder stood at her rain streaked office window she ran he fingers through her natural red hair that hung to the middle of her back. For the past two days she'd been trying, without success to finish her latest novel entitled, Money, Blood and Tears. This was a sappy romantic tale of greed, sex and redemption that was not unlike the rest of her books, but with new characters and a slightly rearranged plot.

Today, she'd found that it was impossible to keep her mind on her writing because she was becoming more and more upset at the lack of progress made by the people she'd hired to recover her Piper Cheyenne. Not only was the plane a tool that she used to travel to and from book signings and promotional events, it was her means of getting away from the office and the demanding people she had to deal with.

Whenever she needed to escape, Catherine knew of no better means of relaxing than to fly. For her it was the ultimate form of freedom, whether it was just heading out to sea where she could chase ocean liners into the Gulf of Mexico or flying down to the Florida Keys to visit with friends. When she was at the controls of her plane it was more invigorating and exciting than sex.

"Helen, are you in?" She called to her personal secretary who had part time office in the next room.

"Be right there, Ma'am." A few seconds later Helen appeared on her doorway dressed in a Navy blue warm up suit, carrying a towel, with her brunette hair streaked in sweat around the edges of her thirty year old face. "I was on the bike. I put on a few pounds on that last trip to Boston; too much seafood."

Catherine didn't need her senseless apologies for exercising and didn't want to be reminded about putting on a few pounds. She'd struggled to get her jeans over her ever expanding rear end this morning and wasn't in the mood to ride the stationary bike, even for a few minutes. Luckily, she had a large chambray shirt that she could wear out so no one would notice her waistline overhanging her belt.

"Would you call that aircraft recovery guy and see what's holding them up. I talked to his secretary but she probably won't answer again if she sees my number. Call his cell phone and find out what the hell is going on."

"It's kind of late now but I can call the lady first thing tomorrow, ma'am. We've got her number too and she seemed to be a little more reasonable, you know, easier to talk to."

Catherine waved as if to say, "whatever," then asked, "What was her name, Jackie?"

"Um, Josie, ma'am. Her name is Josie Blaine."

The author was intrigued by different names because she sometimes struggled to find the right moniker for her characters. "Josie, hunh? Must be short for Josephine." She turned to face her aide, "Who would name their kid, Josephine?"

"I kind of like it." Helens said with her perpetual smile. "It has that old fashioned, honest ring to it."

"Oh, hogwash. Find out where my plane is."
CHAPTER TEN

About four o'clock Josie and Essie were playing cards. She had just given Essie all her fives when she heard a Cessna Centurion land. She walked to the window facing the runway and pulled the curtains back. Two men deplaned and walked toward the airport office. Before they reached the door, the manager stepped out to greet them. Both men showed him badges.

Because she knew how easy it was to get a phony badge, this piqued Josie's attention. What better way to gain access to everything and everyone on the island than by posing as law enforcement.

The trio walked toward the first resort unit. She was in unit fourteen, so they had a few minutes to get out.

She told Essie, "Honey, it's so nice out, let's go down to the beach for a while. We can finish our card game later."

Essie hesitated, then laid her cards face down on the table. "OK, should I take my books to read on the beach?"

"You can." Josie hurried into the bedroom and threw Essie's beach wear and books into a bag. She then grabbed a bag for herself and made sure there wasn't anything left to identify them in the room.

Oblivious to the urgency, Essie came into the bedroom and said, "I have to go to the bathroom."

Trying not to alarm her, Josie asked, "Can you wait and go down at the marina, honey? It'll only a be a couple of minutes."

"Un-huh."

The two of them slipped out the back door.

For Essie's benefit, Josie tried to keep up a casual and relaxed demeanor on their walk to the beach, but her pace was quicker than normal. With a smile, she justified her rush, "We'll go right to marina so you can use the bathroom, OK?"

"Un-huh. When we're there, at the store, can we buy a snow cone to take to the beach?"

"Sure. In fact we'll both get one. Just let me know what flavor you want."

Once in the store, Essie found her way to the bathroom and Josie stood guard outside. From her vantage point she could see the rear of the resort units, but neither did she see the men who'd landed.

Struggling with her jeans Essie came out and said, "My zipper's stuck, Josie."

While Josie freed the problem zipper, Essie told her, "I want a grape snow cone."

"OK, let's go get a couple of them." As she walked to the front counter, Josie kept an eye on the resort. Seeing nothing she turned to look over the boat docks. If the men came to the beach, she and Essie might have to get lost among the boats.

The clerk handed her the snow cones and Josie had just handed her a bill when she saw the two men and airport manager walking toward the marina store. If she and Essie went out the front door they'd be spotted for sure.

She looked for a back door. It was located just past a rack filled with magazines. Josie took her change then told Essie, "Honey, come on over here. I want to look at something."

Josie led Essie to the magazine rack then turned toward the back door. A large sign on the door said, "For security purposes, this door is to be locked during business hours."

She tried the handle. Locked. They were trapped unless she could find a way out of the store without anyone seeing them.

Josie took a magazine off the rack and thumbed through it while watching the front door of the store. The two men who'd been with the manager walked in, flashed their badges and began talking to the clerk.

Josie caught a few words. "Three men. Illegal. Call us."

The guy who wasn't talking to the clerk began looking around the store.

Josie bent down so she was hidden by the rack. She heard his footsteps as he began wandering around the store. Kneeling by the rack, she pulled Essie in close to her and pointed out a child's magazine. Essie took it off the rack as the footsteps drew closer.

Josie had already decided if the guy saw them and appeared to be interested, she was going to throw her best martial arts moves at him and try to get his weapon. She was counting on surprise being her ally.

Just on the other side of the magazine rack, the footsteps stopped. Josie waited, listening for the sounds of him walking away.

Essie burst out, "Look, Josie. A hippopotamus."

Their cover was blown.

Josie whispered to Essie, "Wait right here."

She walked around the magazine rack to face the guy and find out what his motives were. He looked at her and nodded without saying a word. She didn't see any surprised recognition that she'd have seen if he'd been searching for her. She was further relieved by his appearance; even though he was dressed in plain clothes, the guy had cop written all over him. She guessed an ICE agent.

She waited. He turned around and walked back to the counter where he joined his partner who handed the clerk a business card. The two men and the manager then walked out of the store.

Josie watched them walk away and asked the clerk, "Were those guys looking for someone?"

"Illegals trying to get to the US via the islands. Happens all the time."

Josie returned to the magazine rack and took Essie's, "Are you ready to head for the beach?"

"Un-huh."

R. C. Clayton called from the resort office at six thirty. Josie gave him the unit number and he arrived in minutes. She opened the door to find a stocky six footer with a two day beard who was dressed in jeans and a faded red tee shirt that bragged about a brand of beer. She guessed his age around forty-five.

Clayton took off his hat, held it both hands and looked nervous as he introduced himself. "How do, ma'am. I'm Rocky Clayton. Is Tibby in?"

Josie sensed that this was a man whom she could trust, as long as he was sober. She wondered how hard it would be to keep him off the sauce if he had too much time to kill. She held out a hand, "I'm Josie Blaine. Tibby had to leave early this morning. Come in and have a seat." She motioned to a sofa.

He sat down, still sheepish and wide eyed.

Josie retrieved a check for twenty-five hundred dollars off a desk. "Here's half of your fee. Tibby should be back in two or three days and he'll pay you the rest then. Is that O.K.?"

Clayton took the check and made sure there were enough zeros, then folded it in half and stuck it in a back pocket. "Oh, yes Ma'am. That's fine by me."

Josie gestured to Essie who was watching from the floor in front of the television. "This is Esmeralda. Essie, this is Mr. Clayton."

A barely audible, "Hi," then Essie returned to her program.

Because she didn't look like their child, the skipper wasn't sure of where the girl fit with Tibby and Josie, but he knew a compliment was in order. "She's a very pretty little girl, ma'am."

Josie rose and went to the kitchenette. "Thank you. Can I get you a glass of iced tea?"

"Yes, that would be fine, ma'am." He paused. "Ah, if you don't mind, I mean, I'm not sure of why Tibby wanted me to be here. Do you and the little girl want to go sightseeing, or did you want to do some fishing?"

Josie didn't want the guy to think he was acting as a babysitter while Tibby was gone, nor did she want to imply that he was only there as a means of getting off the island, in case some unwanted characters showed up. That was the truth, but she worried that coming right out with it might scare him off.

As she poured a glass of tea she gave him her rehearsed answer, "Essie and I would like to take a cruise around the island tomorrow. She's never been on a boat before but she loves the water, so I thought it was time that she got her sea legs. Then maybe on Sunday, we could go out do a little fishing. Tibby should be back by Tuesday, and I'm sure he'll want to go out and try his luck too."

R.C. sipped his tea and nodded. He thought about the scenario he'd bought into. The little girl clearly didn't belong to Tibby and his friend. The woman, although nice enough, was carrying a piece under her shirt. Her story about why they wanted him here might have been believable to some, but to him sounded as phony as a wooden nickel. However, the check was for the right amount. "O.K. What time would you like to cast off tomorrow?"

"How about right after breakfast?"

"I'll be waiting, ma'am. Thanks for the tea."

The skipper left. Josie began preparing for dinner, grabbing pots and pans, selecting a potato for peeling, opening the frozen peas. As she scooped out enough flour for breading the pork shops, she found that she was looking forward to the safety and seclusion of putting out to sea, where the chances of anyone finding them would be next to impossible...she hoped.
CHAPTER ELEVEN

When Willy returned to Nassau International Airport late that night he was pleased to see that the King Air was still sitting on the ramp, but he wasn't thrilled about a great deal of light on the parking area. This wouldn't stop him though. He needed this aircraft so he could follow up quickly when someone contacted him with a sighting of Esmeralda Ortega.

Willy grabbed his flight bag that carried his burglary tools and walked up to a gate near the parking ramp. Normally the gate was used for maintenance vehicles entering the parking ramp. Tonight it was his means of ingress so he could bypass the terminal building. Just before he picked the lock on the gate, he dialed a number on his cell phone. When the operator answered he said, "We've got a fire at the Nassau Princess Hotel, it's in the rear near the restaurant. Send someone out here, quick."

By the time he picked the lock on the gate, he heard the sirens of the fire engines responding to his call at the hotel next to the airport. He hoped the people on duty would be distracted by the excitement, so he could work without an audience. If someone confronted him, he carried a silenced nine millimeter, but that was a last resort.

Willy walked to the aircraft and made a quick walk around, taking off the control surface locks and removing the pitot tube covers and wheel chocks. He then picked the lock on the door and threw his flight bag into the right seat.

One minute later, Willy had started one of the engines. He called the tower for taxi instruction while he started the second engine. The tower assigned him a runway and he pulled out of the parking ramp. On the way to the runway, the tower controller became talkative, "King Air Nine-Six Bravo, Tower, you're leaving early this morning."

Willy responded, "Yeah, well, when the boss says go, you gotta go. King Air Nine-Six Bravo will be ready to depart when we get to the end."

"I know what you mean, King Air Nine-Six Bravo. Runway Two-Seven, wind calm, cleared for take-off."

"Roger, tower. Thanks and we'll see you next trip, King Air Nine-Six Bravo is rolling."

Willy departed, turned out of the traffic pattern and took up a heading for Amberjack Cay. The island residence was perfect for his base of operations while he conducted his search for the child. It was remote enough that no one would spot the stolen King Air, had computer and internet availability and was within a few hours of flying time to all other islands, even though he realized that by now the child could be anywhere in the world.

I landed in Cali, Colombia early the next afternoon and took a cab to the Hotel Casa del Alferez. After checking in I laid down for three hours, then decided to get some dinner.

Once I was seated in an unexpectedly posh restaurant I discovered that my waiter spoke passable English. There weren't that many nice places to eat in Cali so there was a chance that Roberto had been in here while he resided in Cali. I asked, "I don't know if he ever stopped in here, but I'm trying to find an old friend who used to live here, his name is Roberto Ortega. Does that name ring a bell?"

He thought for a moment, then shook his head, "Ah, no Señor. I don't recall anyone by that name, but we get many people who come through here and that is a fairly common name."

"Thank you." It was worth a try and he was right about the name. My search was going to be like trying to find John Smith in New York City. I had a feeling I'd be hearing a lot of that.

After a decent meal and a couple drinks in the saloon, I went up to my room and called Josie. "I'm in Cali and so far all I've discovered is that I'm trying to find someone with a very common name. Regardless, I'm going to leave for La Paz in the morning. Did R.C. show up?"

"He arrived a couple of hours ago. I gave him his check and he's taking us for a cruise around the island in the morning. I told him the day after we'd probably go out to do some fishing, so he knows what the itinerary is, unless something unexpected pops up." Josie had decided not to tell Tibby about the two agents, so he wouldn't worry while he was so far away struggling with his own challenging situation.

I was relieved to hear no stress in Josie's voice. "Wonderful. How is Essie holding up?"

"She's fine. I talked to her at nap time and told her what's going on. She seemed to understand and I think she's accepted the fact that she'll be with us for a few more days. I'm keeping her busy so she doesn't think about home too much."

"Well, I hope she enjoys the boat ride and with some luck we can reunite her with her family soon."

"Keep me posted, and be careful, Tibby. I love you."

"I love you too, honey."

Those words hit home. Josie and I didn't affirm our love with every other word like some people do. Consequently, when we said, I love you, it meant something. Now, it meant a lot. Whether it was the danger of the situation we were in, or our concern for Essie, was hard to say, but the words definitely served their purpose.

On the fifth floor in an FBI building in Dallas, Texas, Joan Clay served as an analyst who was tasked with tracking the movements of the FBI's "people of interest". Computer messages were generated when one of these people used a credit card or the person is located by some other reliable means.

Upon seeing a message that indicated where Gabriel Thibodeaux had been sighted, she shouted, "Bingo!" Then she sent the following interoffice e-mail to Gene Travis, her immediate supervisor: "Gabriel Thibodeaux used his credit card to check into the Hotel Casa del Alferez in Cali, Colombia at one-forty AM, Colombian time. A check with the hotel revealed that he paid for one night and as of five-thirty AM, Dallas time he hasn't checked out yet."

The supervisor then called the field office in San Jose, Costa Rica and asked for Special Agent Phil Davis. When Davis answered, Travis asked him, "Are you guys looking for a Gabriel Thibodeaux?"

Davis had gone to T-Bone McCluskey's house only to find out that the counterfeiter had given them the slip. Because of that, the news was music to his ears. "We sure are, where is he?"

"He checked into a hotel in Cali, Colombia, at one forty AM, Colombian time. He paid for one night and hasn't checked out yet."

"Thank you. Would you ask the analyst to call me directly if they get any more hits that indicate movement?"

"Will do."

Davis then told his partner, "Thibodeaux just checked into a hotel in Cali, Colombia. He paid for one night and hasn't checked out yet."

"Cali?" The agent thought about this then offered an explanation for the subject's presence there, "He could have gone down there to recover an aircraft, but that doesn't hardly explain the phony passports."

Davis picked up on the train of thought, "The only reason he'd need the bogus passports is if he was planning on bringing someone back with him who can't get a passport. With all the illegal immigrants entering this country, I think we might have stumbled onto Thibodeaux's sideline occupation for when the recovery business is slow."

His partner asked, "Do you want to track him down or should we turn this over to Immigrations and Customs? This is more in their ballpark."

"I'm going to team up with them. I want to be in on this one because I think there's more here than meets the eye. Stay here and find McCluskey. As soon as I talk to someone from ICE, I'm heading for Cali to pick up Thibodeaux's trail."
CHAPTER TWELVE

The next morning I ate an early breakfast at the hotel then left for the airport. As soon as I arrived, I paid my parking fees, making it a point to inform the clerk at the itinerant terminal that I was flying down to La Paz to visit my friend, Roberto Ortega, who used to live in Cali. The woman merely wished me a good flight. If the name meant anything to her, she didn't show it and again I thought of the futility in tracking down some with such a common name.

I walked out to the Conquest where a ramp attendant was pulling the chocks out. I thanked him and tipped him while telling him about my trip to La Paz to visit a former resident of Cali. To my astonishment the guy reacted to the name, "Si, Señor. El jefé used to park his airplane here. A very nice man...." He stopped and scratched his head. "It can't be the same man, Señor. The Ortega I knew was killed in a fire several years ago."

Obviously this guy hadn't heard the news about Esmeralda's abduction or he'd realize el jefé was alive in Bolivia. Or, was he thinking about another Roberto Ortega? This brought out another possible complications in my search. Not only did I have to find the right Roberto Ortega, if someone with this name had been killed in a fire, people might be hesitant to talk to me, thinking the guy was dead.

I waved to the guy and said, "Well, it's a common name, Paulo. Buenos dias."

Use of the term El jefé told me something. Literally it means the chief. It's used as a term of respect for an admired leader or boss. If it was the same Roberto Ortega, he might have been more down here than just another drug lord.

Fifteen minutes later I was climbing through a pinkish-grey layer of broken clouds and turning to a south heading. La Paz, Bolivia was four hours ahead of me. I didn't have any cell phone service in the air, so I couldn't call Josie, but I made a note to call her as soon as I landed in La Paz. That way if something went wrong and I disappeared, she'd know where to start the search. Of course, if people disappeared down here the search was usually a lost cause. There was just too much rain forest out there that was perfect for disposing of someone's dead body. With that thought a chill ran down my spine.

Shortly after talking to the people from Immigration and Customs Enforcement, FBI agent Phil Davis left in a government plane for Cali. He also arranged to pick up Manuel Ibarra, a brawny Hispanic ICE agent who would be waiting for him in Cali.

On the flight to Cali, Davis expounded on his theories via cell phone to Agent Ibarra. "We don't have any indication of what this guy is up to, but if he needs phony passports, I'm thinking that he's smuggling people who could not otherwise get a passport into the states."

Ibarra said, "The Chinese criminals are paying up to a hundred thousand for entry to the states, so there's certainly some profit in smuggling humans. Besides, it's probably easier than recovering stolen aircraft."

"You might have a point there, although I can't imagine there being very many Chinese gangsters in Bolivia."

"Phil, you know as well as I do that they hole up in anyplace where they think they can avoid being picked up and prosecuted. That's why they want to get to the states so bad; it's the land of so many legal loopholes."

My flight to La Paz consisted of dodging storms and fighting with the Bolivian air traffic controllers who seemed bent on vectoring me into the worst of the weather. I'd flown so much out of my way that I decided to make a fuel and comfort stop in Iquitos, Peru. This also took three times longer than I'd hoped because of a shortage of ramp personnel. I finally landed in La Paz at six-thirty, Bolivian time.

I had parked the plane and was thinking of how glad I was that the trip was over, when an airport attendant pulled up in the familiar golf cart. As he unloaded my luggage, I asked if he knew the whereabouts of a Roberto Ortega who flies a brown and tan Cheyenne. He motioned me to get into the golf cart and drove to the terminal.

He then opened a door and pointed to woman behind the counter. From his lack of verbiage, I suspected a language barrier had come into play. He rattled something in his native language to the woman. She beamed a smile and said, "Hello, can I help you?"

"Yes, you might be able to help. I'm trying to locate a Roberto Ortega. He used to fly a dark brown and tan Piper Cheyenne. I have an address on Rua Vittorio."

A perplexed look preceded her answer. "That's a very common name. Did he fly in here?"

"I thought he used to, although it might have been years ago. Is there another airport for this area?"

"Not a commercial airport, but some of the outlying ranches have landing strips on them. If that's where he flew out of, he might be kind of hard to find because most of the small landing strips aren't depicted on the charts."

"Wonderful. Can you tell me how to get to Rua Vittorio?"

She came from behind the counter and pointed to a wall map of the city of La Paz. "The street is separated into three different sections. If your friend flies a Piper Cheyenne he probably lives out on the east end where some of the larger spreads are. You can get there by taking Highway One out of the airport to Avenida Arce. Take that east until you cross Rua Vittorio. What is your address number?"

I dug out the slip of paper and showed her.

"Oh, that address is right downtown. You take Highway One north then go east on Avenida Baptista." She wrote out the directions for me, then added, "It might be best if you wait until the morning to find this address. A few tourists have been robbed lately, and...." She let it hang as if she felt uneasy at having to give me that warning.

"I understand and you've been very helpful. Now, is there a restaurant close by that leans toward American food?"

"We've got the Nuevo Lido Grill right here in the hotel. It's where all the visiting businessmen eat."

"Thank you very much." I decided to heed her warning and proceeded to the restaurant feeling giddy as a prom queen because I was so close to finding Señor Ortega.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN

On Friday morning Josie stuffed all the cash into two duffle bags and put some of Essie's clothes and games on top. Right after breakfast she and Essie boarded R.C.'s boat carrying the bags. She explained, "I brought a few games in case she gets bored and some extra clothes. You know how kids are they get excited and have accidents."

"Oh yes, ma'am, I understand that. You can put your things in the aft cabin. It's just for you and your little girl."

After acquainting them with the boat and fitting them with life preservers RC made sure they had a comfortable place to sit. "You and Esmeralda can sit right up front on the fore deck. That way you're under the bimini top and out of the sun, plus you get a nice breeze to cool you off. Would either of you like something cool to drink? I've got sodas or something stronger for you, ma'am."

"Nothing right now, RC. Maybe later."

Satisfied that his passengers were taken care of, the skipper cast off the mooring lines and idled out of the marina. With an emerald sea stretched out to the horizon and the salty breeze in her face, Josie sat back and felt the relief wash over her. If anyone came after them now, she'd see them a long way off and would have plenty of time to prepare her defense.

Rocky turned north and within minutes pointed out a pod of dolphins that were diving and spinning not far from the boat.

Excited by the playful creatures she'd never seen before, Essie pointed and squealed, "Look at the big fishes."

They cruised alongside the dolphins for ten or fifteen minutes, until the skipper found a green sea turtle that was moseying along the surface while watching the boat suspiciously. When the turtle dove out of sight RC asked Essie, "Do you think you might like to try catching a fish?"

Perplexed, Essie looked at Josie who liked the idea of keeping the child occupied. "What do you think, Essie? You want to try fishing if I help you?"

Knowing Josie would be helping her she sheepishly agreed.

RC turned to the task of baiting a hook then cast the line into the sea and handed the pole to Essie with her instructions. "Now you just hold this fishing pole until you feel something tug on your line, then you hold onto the pole real tight and crank this little handle."

Not knowing what to expect, Essie sat mesmerized, staring at the fishing pole without saying a word for fifteen minutes. Finally, when her attention was beginning to wander, she felt a slight tug and the end of the rod dipped slightly. "Josie, Josie...."

"OK, honey. Turn the handle as fast as you can."

Essie cranked on the reel until she felt the resistance of the fish, then overwhelmed by the excitement, told Josie, "You better do it." Whereupon Josie took the rod and reeled in a nice little ten inch jack.

Fascinated by her first glimpse of a live fish, Essie asked one question after another until RC explained that this type of fish wasn't very good to eat so they should throw it back. Essie nodded her agreement then sat down grinning from ear to ear at her new adventure.

Clayton cruised northbound toward Big Hog Cay where a group of sailboats were enjoying the mid morning breeze. He explained, "They have sailing regattas up here weekly. My son and I entered one last year while he was home on leave. We didn't do too well because we hadn't sailed since he entered the military, but we had a nice time."

Josie asked, "Does your son work with you now?"

A slight hesitation. "Ah, no ma'am, he got killed in Iraq about six months ago."

"Oh no. I'm so sorry, R.C."

"Oh, that's all right. You had no way of knowing. He was a helicopter pilot and he died doing what he enjoyed, so it's one of those things you just have to get used to. Say, are you and Essie ready for some lunch?"

Josie knew he was changing the subject for a reason, so she said, "That sounds great and I'm sure Essie will eat. Can I help with anything?"

"Oh no, ma'am. I do all the cooking on board. You and the girl, you just relax and enjoy this beautiful morning."

While R.C. set the anchor, Josie looked out over the ocean. It was a splendid morning with absolutely perfect weather, including a slight breeze to temper the mid-day heat. A light chop rocked the boat that would have put Essie to sleep, if she hadn't been busy watching the gulls that were gliding around the boat, looking for a scrap of food. She was thrilled that Essie was enjoying herself and hoped this would keep her mind off the separation from her family.

A few minutes later, R.C. appeared from the galley carrying a beautiful salad full of crab chunks, tomatoes, avocado and croutons for Josie, noodle soup for Essie and grilled cheese sandwiches for everyone. As he served Clayton said, "I fixed the sandwiches because all kids like grilled cheese. I hope they're O.K. When you're finished I've got some chocolate ice cream for dessert."

Josie said, "This is wonderful, thank you."

Silence prevailed during lunchtime until Essie asked, "When is Tibby coming back?"

"He should be back tomorrow or the next day, honey."

"When he gets back, am I going home?"

Josie noticed that she seemed apprehensive when she asked the question. In discussions Josie had explained to her that she'd be going back to her family as soon as they could find them. She said, " Yes. As soon as Tibby finds your family, you'll be going back to them, honey."

Between bites of her grilled cheese, Essie threw her a bombshell. "I don't wanna to go back there. I wanna stay with you and Tibby."

Normally Essie spoke with the typical hesitation caused by a seven year old's vocabulary insecurity. This time, however, she sounded adamant. The statement and the manner in which Essie spoke floored Josie. She'd been worried about keeping the child from her family, now all appearances were that Essie had a change of heart. What could it possibly be at home that Essie didn't like? This wasn't the time to question the child about the whys and wherefores, but at some point Josie would have to talk to Essie about her problems at home. Now her large dark eyes were watching Josie for some sort of indication whether her request would be granted.

Josie found herself searching for the right words, knowing she couldn't tell Essie that she didn't have to go home. She said, "Sweetheart, when we find your parents, you'll have to go home. I'm sorry but there's nothing we can do."

Essie put down her sandwich and climbed into Josie's lap. As they hugged each other, Essie said, "I have a lot of fun with you, Josie. It's not like this at home."

Josie kissed her dark hair but said nothing. She was aware that it would be very easy for her to send the wrong message, even though she and Tibby only had one recourse with the child.

R.C. pulled his boat into the dock at Swordfish Cay about four o'clock.

As she shook his hand, Josie said, "Thank you, R.C. That was wonderful cruise and Essie had the time of her life. She'll probably want to go back out tomorrow."

Hat in hand and as humble as ever, Clayton said, "I'm glad you and the girl enjoyed it ma'am. I'm at your disposal so we can go out whenever you please. Maybe on the next trip we can catch a bigger fish, now that she's got the hang of it."

"That would be fabulous. I'll be sure to let you know as soon as I decide our schedule. Right now I've got to take her in for a nap. Bye-bye."

Essie was yawning as Josie took her back to the room. This time there was very little talking, although Essie made her promise they would play Chuzzle when she woke up. After she conked out, Josie sat down near the window and pondered the situation.

All day long she had contemplated telling R.C. about the circumstances with her and Essie. There was a chance that if someone was successful in tracking them down, he might be more help in getting them away from the island if he knew what the stakes were. On the other hand, Tibby had mentioned that R.C. was on probation. That meant that upon hearing the truth, he might forego the money and cast off for safer shores. In the end she kept her mouth shut, but wasn't convinced it was the best course of action.

An hour later she was frying chicken when a twin engine Piper Seminole landed on the resort runway. She put a lid on the chicken and went to the door where she had a better view of the aircraft parking area.

Two Anglo men who appeared to be in their late fifties or early sixties, dressed very casually in shorts and polo shirts, got out of the aircraft. They walked to the airport office, chatting all the way, seemingly oblivious of their surroundings. If they were part of the criminal element who were looking for someone, they were good actors.

Josie sensed Essie at her side. With a smile, she picked her up, gave her a hug and asked her if she had a nice nap. Essie stretched and nodded, then said, "You said we could play Chuzzle when I woke up."

"We will, honey, but first you better go to the bathroom. Then we're going to have some fried chicken and macaroni and cheese for dinner. How does that sound?"

With a child's wandering mind, Essie asked, "Are we going on the boat tomorrow?"

Josie put her down. "I don't know, Essie. Do you want to go for another boat ride?"

Essie wasn't sure so she opted for the bathroom.

Josie looked out toward the airport office and saw a disturbing sight. The airport manager, who also ran the resort was walking with the two newcomers toward the unit next door. Apparently the they were going to be her neighbors. Although the men appeared to be harmless, she was taking nothing for granted. This might mean she'd be up all night standing guard.

The manager then came to her unit and knocked on the door. Josie answered, being careful not to step out where she could be seen. The manager apologized for bothering her, then handed her a Fed Ex package. She thanked him then closed and locked the door.

She opened the package to find Essie's passport inside. Looking at it, she suddenly felt like a hardened criminal and realized that from now on, they'd have to watch their backs for the law, as well as the people after the reward money.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN

After a decent night's sleep I was up shortly after seven, anxious to find the address that should take me to Roberto Ortega. I showered, dressed and headed for the parking lot. My rental car was an almost new Buick, so at least I didn't have to drive around a strange foreign town in a strange foreign car. However, after pulling out onto the highway and seeing the way Bolivians drove, I wasn't certain the car would be returned in the same condition.

I followed the girl's directions finding all the streets with no difficulty. When I finally turned onto Rua Vittorio, however, I saw an area of businesses and store fronts. The addresses aren't displayed as prominently as they are in the states, so I had to park and walk to find out where I was in relation to the number I was looking for.

From seeing the small businesses in this area, I was convinced that the address I had for Ortega was an office address. I didn't care if he was at his office, I just wanted to find the guy. A few minutes later I came to 4121 Rua Vittorio. The lettering on the window read, El Correo. My Spanish was good enough to recognize—the post office — the address I had was a postal box. I let go with a string of American obscenities that stopped a few of the locals in their tracks.

I walked back to the rental car and sat down to think this over. I was certain that Ortega had somehow spread the word about his missing daughter. So where do I find the people who know how to find him, or those who have heard about his missing daughter? I decided next I'd drive to the area east of town. Granted he wouldn't have a big sign on his house to make my job any easier, but I might be able to talk to some of the locals. If that didn't work, I'd try the bars after lunch.

I drove to the hotel for breakfast. The girl at the desk last night had been right on, they had everything from ham and eggs to native dishes that I couldn't pronounce. Abandoning all culinary adventure, I ordered a ham and cheese omelet and wasn't disappointed. It was my best choice of the day.

After eating I called Josie. She described their cruise and how much Essie enjoyed catching a fish and learning about the exciting new world of marine life. She provided some relief when she said she hadn't seen any suspicious characters and that they would be going out again tomorrow. She asked about my efforts to find Ortega.

Without nearly as much enthusiasm, I explained, "The address I had for Ortega is a postal box. My task is further complicated by the fact that Roberto Ortega is the most popular male name in the country. I'm going to drive out in the country and look around, then if that's not productive, I'll hit some of the bars this afternoon. I'm sure that some of the low-lifes who are looking to make a quick buck should know how to get in touch with Roberto. If that doesn't work, I don't know. I might have to take out an ad in a local newspaper."

Josie lowered her voice. "Well, we've got another problem."

I wondered if R.C. got drunk and made a pass at her. No, she could handle that; this was something more serious. "What's that?"

"Essie doesn't want to go back home. She told me she wants to stay with us."

I don't know why, but I lowered my voice. "She was so upset about missing her parents. What changed?"

"Beats me, Tibby. I thought she was missing he family, but I must have read her wrong. Now she says she doesn't want to go back home."

"We don't have a choice in the matter. We can't keep her with us." Nothing like stating the obvious.

"I know, Tibby, but knowing we're forcing her to go somewhere she doesn't want to, is going to make giving her back more difficult than ever." Josie sounded close to tears. Normally, she isn't bothered by the consequences of something that absolutely has to be done. In our present situation, however, she'd come up against an emotional scenario that she'd never dealt with before.

I didn't think this was the time to sound conciliatory, so I said, "Well, she has to return to her family, that's all there is to it, and I know you agree."

"I do, but, oh, at least I need to complain about it."

"OK, well, I'll call you tomorrow and by the way, I'm staying at the Tequina Palace Hotel."

"All right, good luck in your search."

"I'm trying, honey."

I returned to the hotel and asked a young man at the front desk, "I'm down here looking for an old friend. Unfortunately, the only address I have is a postal box. I wonder if you could check your phone book for his name."

"Certainly, sir." He pulled a tattered phone book out of a drawer. "What's his name?"

"Roberto Ortega. I believe he lives somewhere outside of town."

The guy opened the phone book, then turned it to me. "As you can see there are quite a few Roberto Ortegas in La Paz."

I counted thirty-eight.

The desk clerk also stated the obvious. "If you don't have an address or phone number it might be kind of hard to find him. Unless you want to call all of them listed. We do offer free local calls."

I came to the conclusion that my long shot was a bust; there was no way Ortega would have a listed phone number. On to plan B. "Not right now. Thank you for your help."

I really felt like heading into the bar and having a drink. However, as much as that might help my disposition, it wouldn't help find Roberto. I had to get out among the masses and talk to people. Most of them wouldn't understand me but it was my only recourse. I noted the location of the bar for later on and headed for the Buick.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I drove east to the edge of La Paz, then took a rural road for ten miles through the farmlands. The first thing I noticed was, there were not very many mailboxes, houses were spread out and many of them were run down, looking like the owners couldn't even afford a mailbox. I noticed only one person had their name on the box and was sure that Ortega wouldn't put his name anywhere that it wasn't absolutely necessary. I thought about stopping at one of the houses and asking, but again, the chances of finding someone who spoke English and would give information to a strange gringo were remote.

I drove around until I found myself on a road that I'd already traveled. If I was retracing my tracks, I was wasting time. At eleven o'clock I decided that this was a lost cause and it was time to hit some of the bars so I could strike out there too.

I turned around in a driveway and headed back toward town. I was doing about forty down a dirt road, when I spotted a twin Cessna off in the distance, sitting in what appeared to be the middle of a field. I jammed on the brakes and looked for the road or driveway that would take me to the landing strip. I didn't see any roads, but knew there had to be access to the runway somewhere.

I drove two miles west, then turned south while keeping the plane in sight. After another mile I found a dirt road that looked like it lead to the Cessna. I took it for a mile, then found myself next to one end of the dirt landing strip. The twin was sitting by itself on a graded parking area near the strip. I looked for the closest house figuring they'd be the ones who owned the landing strip, although it wouldn't surprise me to find out that several people shared the dirt runway.

I saw a crude structure that might have been an open air hangar for a single aircraft at the other end of the strip. I drove toward it, while looking over the landscape, but seeing little. I was halfway down the landing strip when I saw an aircraft in my rear view mirror that was lined up to land on the dirt runway.

I stepped on it all the way to the end of the strip and pulled off. Apparently the plane about to land was the one that parked in the structure at this end. I waited, knowing the people in the plane wouldn't be tickled about some stranger prowling around their property. I hoped my limited Spanish was enough to get my point across.

The plane, a Beechcraft Duke, touched down in a cloud of reddish-brown dust and taxied to the end of the landing strip, where it turned off. The pilot pulled up in front of the open air hangar and parked the aircraft. Two men got out of the Duke and walked toward my car. They were both Hispanic and well dressed in expensive jeans, boots, leather jackets and western hats. Both men looked like they didn't take any crap from anyone, especially meddling gringos. I didn't think they were the occupants of the rundown houses I'd seen.

I left the car running and climbed out, waiting for them to get within range of my voice. Their scowls told me they weren't from the local welcome wagon. I shouted, "Buenos tardes. Dispénseme usted. Habla usted el englés?"

That was as far as I got. One of the men shouted something I didn't understand. I doubted that he gave me the courtesy of answering my question.

I tried, "Dónde esta, Roberto Ortega."

Again, he shouted something that didn't even sound Spanish. I was about to try the name again when the other guy pulled out a chrome automatic. If they were pulling heat, the conversation, such as it was, had come to an end.

I held up my hands in surrender, then pulled open the car door.

The guy without the gun walked toward me and said, "Nada."

I understood no, but no what?

He slammed the car door then pushed me against the car. The no had meant I wasn't leaving yet, although I didn't know why they'd keep me. With the language barrier, we certainly wouldn't be having a long conversation.

Backed against the car, I held up both hands to show them I wasn't resisting.

The guy nearest to me said something.

I shook my head and said, "No comprende."

This must have been the wrong answer. He punched me in the gut. When I bent over from the blow, my head exploded in pain and my world went black.

When FBI Special Agent Davis and ICE agent Ibarra landed in La Paz, they first verified, from the aircraft tail number, that the white and blue Cessna Conquest was the one flown in by Thibodeaux.

Davis then told Ibarra, "Keep an eye out for anyone coming toward the plane. I'm going to put a couple tracking transponders on it, one the landing gear door and another one in the engine compartment."

Once this was done, Davis said, "We'll split our watches into four hour shifts. You take the first shift. We want to find out if he leaves with anyone. If he does, we're going to tail him to see where he's smuggling these people. I'm going to find out which hotel he's in and watch him from that end to see if he meets anyone."

Even though stake out work was the most boring part of his job, Ibarra gladly agreed because anything was better than going back to Colombia. "I'll call if I see him. If he looks like he's about to leave, I'll call the tower and see if they'll delay him."

Willy Camerena had been on the phone and computer for five hours. He was expanding the radius of his search and had started calling small airports in the continental United States. He was also contacting all the airports in the Caribbean where he hadn't been able to talk to anyone personally yet. He wanted to make sure everyone knew about the missing child and understood the reward money that was being offered.

This was his third call to the airport operators at Swordfish Cay. He realized that they didn't man their office unless there were scheduled feeder flights operating, but because he didn't know when that was, he had to keep trying until he heard a live voice. If he didn't reach someone at Swordfish Cay soon, he might fly over there. This was an out of the way island airport, just the type someone would want if they were hiding a child.

"Swordfish Cay Airport, Herman."

Surprised at hearing a human, Willy went into his spiel, trying not to sound like a salesman. He'd already discovered that many of the people he talked to didn't believe him and others threatened to report him for pulling some sort of scam. That didn't deter him; to those who would listen, he delivered his message in its entirety.

Without making any comments, Herman listened to him, then copied down the telephone number that Willy gave. He hung up the phone, shook his head in disbelief, then returned to his duties.

Currently he was replacing the plastic owls alongside the runway that were used to scare off other birds and reduce the chances of an aircraft striking a bird. Herman wasn't sure if the owls worked or not, and he really didn't care.

He wasn't very bright so there weren't many jobs he could hold down. Well aware of his deficiencies, Herman was just thankful to have a job where he was given a place to sleep and three meals a day on a tropical island where he could fish every minute he wasn't working. Also, Mr. Quartermain, the Jamaican who managed the airport and resort, kept a sufficient stash of fine Mexican weed, to which Herman was welcomed, so the perks of the job kept him around.

As he pounded a stake into the sand, Herman thought about sneaking off to smoke a joint now. Mr. Quartermain was down at the marina and he was probably drinking beer and flirting with the new barmaid, so he might not be back until after lunch. With a grin Herman mounted the fake owl onto the stake, tightened the screws down good, then stood back and admired his work. He'd mounted six owls already this morning so it was time for a smoke.

He drove his tractor back to the airport office and parked it near the equipment shed. Inside the shed Herman unlocked a cabinet then took out the box where Mr. Quartermain kept his marijuana. He pinched enough for two cigarettes and placed it in the baggy that he kept with him just for this purpose. He replaced the box and locked the cabinet.

Herman then sauntered down to the shoreline and sat down in a lean to that he'd built under a palm tree. Next he rolled a joint, lit up and then sat down in a faded blue lawn chair.

As he smoked and thought about life on the island, Herman recalled the phone call he'd taken earlier. The guy had said something about a missing child. Why would anyone call the airport about a missing child? Not very many children even stayed at the resort, because it was mostly fishermen.

He couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen a child at the resort, except for the little girl that was in unit fourteen now, staying with that good looking woman. Herman laughed at his next thought — maybe he should call that number and tell them that little girl was the missing child. He might get the million dollars. He was still laughing at this when he lit his second joint.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I regained consciousness only to discover that I was tied to a chair with very stout rope. A look around me revealed that I was in a room that looked like a garage or workshop that was filled with machinery and implements of all sorts. The only two windows in the room were covered with crude shutters. There was no one else in the room. The knot on my head throbbed like a beating heart.

My first inclination was to use one of the tools to cut my bonds and get the hell out of there before anyone returned. I saw a hand held scythe on a workbench that looked sharp enough to do the trick. I scooted the chair toward the workbench, turning my back to it so I could grab the scythe. I was able to get my hands on the blade, but not the handle. I then tried to maneuver it so the cutting edge was exposed to the rope. This wouldn't be an easy or quick operation.

I had just taken my first feeble attempt at cutting myself free when someone dragged the door open and two men entered the room. One of them was the guy who had the pistol at the runway. I'd never seen the other man, but he was also well dressed and obviously affluent. He also looked to be Hispanic, maybe Mexican whereas the one who'd pulled down on me was definitely Bolivian.

Because my chances of escaping had been severely reduced, I dropped the scythe. They walked up to me and in perfect English, the stranger said, "What were you doing on our air strip?"

I had expected to be questioned, but hadn't decided how much of the truth I should tell these guys. If they found out about Esmeralda, they might resort to all kinds of painful measures to find her and claim the reward. On the other hand, I certainly wasn't doing anything to harm either of these guys, but convincing them of that might be another matter.

"I'm trying to find an old friend from Cali. His name is Roberto Ortega. I have an address for him but it turned out to be a post office box. He flies a Piper Cheyenne and the girl at the hotel told me there were some private airstrips out here, so I decided to drive around to see if I could find his place."

The one who'd posed the question to me asked the other guy if he knew a Roberto Ortega. This brought a shake of the head and a question. The only part of the question I understood was, FBI. Great. If these guys thought I was a fed, my future might have become considerably shorter.

To me, "My friend thinks you might be with the FBI, and you might be down here to stick your nose into our activities. We wouldn't like that."

"If I was with the FBI I would have some identification and I don't; you can search me. I flew down here in my own plane, looking for my friend. I'm not with any law enforcement agency. However, if I don't call my partner in an hour, she'll be sending plane loads of federal agents down here to find me."

I didn't think these guys were going to kill me. Although they were concerned about my presence, they didn't appear to be desperate. Killers have a far-away look in their eye that reveals a vacuum in their soul. I would have bet that these guys, like much of South America, were involved in some sort of illegal enterprise, but that murder wasn't on their agenda.

The one who spoke English said something to the other guy in their native language. This brought about some arm waving and a prolonged conversation.

The interpreter asked me, "When are you leaving Bolivia?"

I wasn't leaving without finding Roberto, so I tried to buy time. "I can't fly out of here until I get checked out by a doctor. That thump I got on the head might have given me a concussion. I'll leave as soon as I see a doctor."

He looked at the back of my head. "I think you're fine and I think you'd better take off as soon as possible. We don't like anyone, especially agents from the American FBI looking around. Do I make myself clear?"

Challenging them wouldn't pay any dividends, so I said, "Yes, you're very clear. I didn't see anything except a dirt runway and I'm not with the FBI."

The other guy said something about an airplane. From the comment I picked up that the English speaking Mexican was named Joaquin. He turned to me and said, "What type of airplane do you fly and what is the tail number?"

I didn't like giving out this information, but I was hardly in a position to refuse. I was, however, in a position to bend the truth. "I fly a Beechcraft King Air, tail number, November three one four kilo."

Joaquin said, "We are going to release you. Then we are giving you two hours to return to your hotel and leave town. We will have a man at the airport checking the parking area. If your airplane is still there in two hours, it might meet with a bad accident, like a fuel leak that catches fire."

I was relieved to hear that they were letting me go, but their threat concerned me. If these guys had the juice to burn up an aircraft on the ramp of their international airport, they wouldn't take my word about which aircraft was mine. They'd probably check and find out that the Conquest was the only aircraft that had been flown in by an American. Still, I wasn't leaving town without finding Ortega and I didn't think this could be accomplished in two hours. This presented me with a hell of a dilemma.

Joaquin untied me and told me how to get back to my rental car. I was thankful, but didn't say so; this wasn't television. As I stood up he said, "Remember two hours, or you will find out how slow the airport fire trucks are at responding to a call."

I walked back to my rental car and left for the hotel. The time was two-fifteen. On the drive I thought about moving my Conquest to another airport, but I was pretty sure that the international airport was the only one around, with the exception of the private dirt strips and I wasn't snooping around any more of them.

At the hotel I was thrilled to see the English speaking young lady was on duty. I approached her with a smile, "Say, I need to talk to some of the local people, but I'm not that fluent in Bolivian. Do you happen to know of anyone who could serve as an interpreter? I'll pay well, fifty Bolivianos for a couple hours of work."

She thought for a minute, then dialed a number. I heard, "Borachon, get up and come down to the hotel. I've got some work for you." A pause, then not so ladylike, she fired off the rest in Bolivian. After hanging up the phone, she turned to me, "My cousin, his name is Ramon. He doesn't think he needs work, except I've been paying his rent for the past four months. I told him to get his ass down here."

I searched my Spanish vocabulary; I was pretty sure Borachon meant drunk. I wasn't sure if I wanted to work with Ramon or not, but it sounded like he could help. So as long as I kept him sober for two hours, what harm could he do?

With a smile she said, "He should be here within a few minutes."

"Thank you." I think.

Ramon walked in fifteen minutes later. He was short, plump, had a baby face and a head full of shaggy black hair. He was a nice looking guy, fair skinned with some Anglo in his blood and a shy smile. I shook his hand, introduced myself and told him about trying to find Roberto Ortega. I didn't say why.

Ramon sat down and with articulation I never would have expected, said, "I've never heard of this person you're looking for, but I'm sure we can find someone who knows him. If he has a big spread around here, he must have money, so we'll try a few of the high end restaurants first. There are three or four within a couple miles of here. What do I say if someone asks why we're looking for this guy?"

"Personal business."

"O.K., I didn't have much to eat for breakfast. Do you suppose we could grab some lunch before we get started?"

I hated to see this guy working on an empty stomach. "We'll eat at the first place you think we should try, as long as it doesn't take all day. I've got to be back at the airport in an hour and a half."

"Not a problem, Tibby. The first place will be the Papaguyo Azul, or Blue Parrot. It's only three blocks from here."

"Let's go." Whenever someone tells me it's not a problem, I always worry.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The next morning Josie saw the two neighbors leave their unit and walk to the marina carrying fishing gear. She stepped outside and watched as they boarded a boat. They didn't seem to be a threat and if they were after Essie, they would have struck last night. She certainly would have heard them because she'd been awake all night listening for anything out of the ordinary.

While she was outside, she looked toward the airport. There were no strange aircraft parked on the ramp. She saw no signs of anyone arriving at the island, but still thought the best place for them would be on the boat, if for no other reason than to give her some relief from keeping a constant vigil.

When Essie woke up, Josie asked her if she felt like going out for another cruise, with a promise that they'd play some games when they returned. Essie nodded, then asked, "Is Tibby coming home today?"

Josie figured the child was concerned because when Tibby returned, she'd have to go back home. This broke Josie's heart because, in spite of her desires otherwise, they would have to return Essie to her parents. While slicing a banana for their cereal, she said, "I'm not sure when he's coming back, honey. He hasn't called yet today, so I don't know."

Essie didn't say anything, but looked at her with those big brown eyes that didn't seem to be as carefree as they once were. As Josie served her cereal and toast, she gave her a big hug. Then her cell phone rang.

Hoping it was Tibby with good news, she answered. The woman identified herself as Helen Chamberlain, Wilder's private secretary. She then stated that Ms. Wilder wanted to know if there was any progress in finding her plane.

Josie explained, "We have leads throughout the Caribbean, but checking them out takes a lot of time. Another problem is there are a lot of similar aircraft flying around the Caribbean so most of our leads are about the wrong planes. Also, when someone steals an airplane, they immediately repaint the registration numbers, so it makes finding the right aircraft incredibly difficult. I'm sure it will be just a matter of time until we find Ms. Wilder's plane."

Helen knew this wasn't what her boss wanted to hear, but it would be the message she'd have to pass on. Then she'd have to listen to the tirade from the writer, who expected everything to be done yesterday. She told Josie, "Thank you and please call anytime day or night if you locate the plane."

"You will be the first to know." As soon as Josie hung up, she pondered this situation, wondering if they might be better off to tell Ms. Wilder that they had to cancel the job due to unforeseen circumstances. She'd feel better if they were honest with the lady, but then again, if Tibby finds Roberto, they might be able to return the aircraft very soon.

After breakfast Josie and Essie walked hand in hand down to the marina. They found R.C. tightening the screws on a cleat. He waved, "Ahoy and good morning. Come on aboard. I take it that you want to spend some time at sea this morning."

Josie helped Essie onto the gently rocking deck and said, "That's right, R.C. Since it's such a nice day again, I thought we might go out for two or three hours and find the dolphins. Essie really enjoyed watching them."

The clean shaven sailor smiled and looked at Essie, "I happen to know right where those dolphins live, so we can go watch them as long as you want to."

Essie clapped her hands, then went to the storage locker to fetch a life vest for her and Josie. She handed one to Josie and ordered, "Put this on so you don't drown."

"OK, you're the boss."

As she was buckling hers, Essie said, "I'm a real good swimmer, Josie."

Surprised by this revelation, Josie said, "Are you now? I didn't know that."

Another nod. "Eva comes and gives me lessons on Monday and Thursday. I can swim the whole pool underwater now. Then we swim laps for thirty minutes. She said I'm a good swimmer for being only seven and a half."

"Essie, that's wonderful. When we get back we'll go swimming in the bay. Would you like that?"

"Will there be dolphins there?"

"No, I don't think so, honey. Normally they don't come in too close to shore."

"Is that so they don't get eaten by sharks?"

"I don't know. We'll ask R.C. later. He knows all about that stuff."

"I'd like to swim with dolphins one day. They're my favorite fish. Do you think we can do that one day, Josie?"

"They're my favorite too, honey. I'll bet before we leave we can swim with those dolphins." Josie made up her mind that she'd do her best to make that dream come true.

In the Swordfish Cay airport office, James Quartermain sat at his desk talking to the fuel company that supplied his aviation and marine fuel to the island. When he finished with his conversation, he looked at the phone number Herman had written on the desk pad. He didn't recall the boy telling him what it was for, so he went out to find his hired hand.

He found Herman replacing the light bulbs that lit up the wind sock next to the west end of the runway. The boy greeted him, "Morning, Mr. Quartermain. I'm almost finished here then I'm going to drive the sweeper over the runway for a couple of passes. I see that wind last night blew a lot of sand and gravel onto the runway."

This surprised Quartermain because it wasn't like the lad to recognize work that needed to be done on his own. Now that Herman had noticed that the runway needed sweeping, he was content to let his helper take care of it. "I'm glad you noticed that, son. Be sure to do that before Air Abaco lands at eleven o'clock. Say, I noticed a phone number written on my desk pad. Did you take a phone call from someone lately?"

Herman wiped his brow, while thinking about the question. He didn't often answer the phone because they had a recording machine and if it was business, most of the time he didn't know what to say. Then he remembered the call yesterday when he'd been in the office looking for some matches. "Oh yeah, but it wasn't anything important. Something about a child that was missing and they were offering a reward. I don't know why they'd call us, it ain't like we're the police or anything. Do you suppose they had a wrong number, Mr. Quartermain?"

James would not have been interested, except he heard the word reward. "Do you remember how much the reward was, Herman?"

The boy scratched his head, then squinted at his boss and said, "I think the guy said a million dollars, but that don't sound right, does it?"

Quartermain's curiosity and greed were piqued to the limit, but he didn't betray his interest to Herman. "I don't know, son. Well, I won't keep you. You better make three or four passes down the runway."

The boy grinned in anticipation of pleasing the boss. "You bet, Mr. Quartermain. There won't be any gravel on it when I get done."

James returned to his office and dialed the phone number.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Ramon and I entered the Papaguyo Azul just as the lunch crowd was thinning out. We sat down at a table in a plain room with little decorating, nothing but native baskets and blankets on the walls. If this was one of the high priced restaurants, I'd hate to see the dives.

Ramon ordered his lunch, I opted for coffee. As soon as the waiter left Ramon asked the bartender if he knew a man who came in here named Roberto Ortega. The bartender, who appeared to be more interested in a soccer game on TV, shook his head. I didn't need any translation. He said something else to Ramon, who told me, "He's only lived here four months."

When the waiter returned, Ramon again asked the same question with the same results. The waiter conferred with three of his co–workers, but apparently we'd come into a place where Ortega had never set foot, or if he did, he didn't mention his name.

I didn't say anything else because I wanted Ramon to finish his meal as quickly as possible. When he placed his fork on the plate, I asked, "Where is the next place?"

"There's a club not far from here called La Casa de Amigos. It's more than just a bar, meaning they employ women that cater to the men, but it's usually pretty busy."

"Is prostitution legal here?" I asked because getting caught up in the middle of a vice bust wouldn't help my cause one bit.

"It's not illegal, meaning you have to be in the right people's pockets and you can operate whatever you want."

"Let's give it a try." My watch read, two fifty-five.

The next place was a culture shock compared to the Papaguyo Azul. The large reception area of La Casa de Amigos was decorated tastefully in white, green and gold. The theme appeared to be the chambers of a Roman Empress. Large tropical plants sat in the corners and sidebars lined the walls. A replica of Cleopatra's barge filled the center of the room. The place was busy with fifteen or twenty well dressed men having drinks and a number of women, dressed in short white togas, circulated among them and made sure they didn't have to hold an empty glass for long. I was not surprised that the nicest place in La Paz was a whore house.

Ramon led me into a saloon in a separate room that had still another decorating theme: all mahogany, Tiffany lamps and red velvet right out of the Barbary Coast, circa 1880. My first thought was, this is where someone will know of Ortega, but no one is going to divulge anything to a couple of strangers. Especially if one of them is obviously not local.

After getting my permission, Ramon ordered two beers. He wasn't as jovial with the scantily dressed female bartender as he had been with the last guy. I suspected the kid wasn't too comfortable around worldly women. That meant not as much conversation. I was cursing my luck when another bartender, who appeared to be eastern Mediterranean asked, in perfect English, "How are you fellows doing today?"

I had never been better. I flashed my best smile and said, "I'm just fine, and I'm delighted to find someone who speaks my tongue."

She had a terrific smile. "I can recognize an American a mile away, so I suspected you didn't speak the native lingo."

"You're entirely right. Say, I'm down here trying to find a friend whom I haven't seen for several years and I don't have any idea where he lives. His name is Roberto Ortega and he used to live in Cali, Colombia."

She leaned on the bar showing off her cleavage. "That's a very common name. Have you tried the phone book?"

"Yes, I did. There are thirty-eight men listed by that name."

"Just a minute." She disappeared into a doorway.

We waited, sipping our beer, for four or five minutes. The bartender returned, smiled and said, "There's someone coming out to talk to you."

It wasn't a minute later when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to see a Hispanic man dressed in a tailored white linen suit, pale blue silk shirt and hand painted tie that set him back a couple hundred. His boutonniere was not over an hour old. He had to be the classiest guy in Bolivia.

With his right hand he gestured to a secluded table. "Can we talk?" His voice was deep and soothing, not threatening.

"Certainly." My voice sounded high and squeaky; I cleared my throat.

We sat down. He said, "My name is Ignacio Sanchez. I am an acquaintance of Roberto's. May I ask why you would like to see Señor Ortega?"

That didn't tell me a great deal except that there was a possibility that Ignacio knew the Roberto I was looking for. In return I told him just as much. "I'm Gabriel Thibodeaux and I'd like to talk to him about some personal business."

Ignacio's eyes bored into me, but still he wasn't threatening; it was more sincerity. I would have hated to play poker with the guy. "I'm sure you can understand that because Señor Ortega is a wealthy and influential man, he has to be careful about with whom he does business. Are you able to expound on the nature of your business?"

I was hesitant to expound on anything, because I had no proof that this guy was a friend of the right Roberto Ortega. I tried, "There are several men in this town named Roberto Ortega. The person I'm looking for used to live in Cali, Columbia."

He just nodded.

I still wasn't convinced we were talking about the right person. "The person I'm looking for was thought by many to have died in a fire six or seven years ago."

Again he nodded and said, "I think we are talking about the same gentleman."

I was still apprehensive, but also elated. It was time to let the cat out of the bag. "I wish to talk to Señor Ortega in person. It is about his daughter that went missing two days ago."

The guy was cool; he showed no emotion whatsoever. "Do you have a business card, Mr. Thibodeaux?"

I handed him one of my cards that had only my name and cell phone number. I asked, "Do you know how soon, Señor Ortega will be contacting me?"

"No, I don't. Good day." He stood and walked away.

I turned to Ramon who'd been watching out of the corner of his eye from the bar. He asked, "Any luck?"

I threw up my hands. "I don't know. All I can do now is wait."

I sat down next to Ramon, ordered another beer and slid him the agreed upon fifty Boliviano bill. "Thanks for the help. At least I was able to talk to someone."

In a conspiratorial tone, he assured me, "You'll hear from that guy. I can feel it."

All I could feel was my head.

It was three fifteen; Ignacio had one hour.
CHAPTER NINETEEN

"Alo."

When James Quartermain heard Willy answer the phone, he thought he had the wrong number and was about to hang up. He spoke tentatively, "Hello. I'm returning your call about the missing child that you're looking for."

In an instant Willy's interest was piqued. He'd made hundreds of calls but this was only the second one returned and the other call was clearly someone trying to cash in on the reward. He tried to put the caller at ease. "Yes, thank you for calling. Do you have some information for me?"

"I'm not sure I can help because my hired hand took the call and left the number. Can you describe who you're looking for?"

Willy went into the entire spiel, describing Esmeralda in detail and emphasizing the tax free, one million dollar reward.

Quartermain said, "One moment please." He covered the mouthpiece of his cell phone while he thought over this scenario. He'd noticed the differences in Josie and Essie's appearance when they checked in. He was sure she was the little girl this guy was looking for. He was worried, however, about getting the reward money. He'd called on his cell phone because he didn't think it couldn't be traced, therefore not giving away his location until he was ready to do business. Now he had to devise a method of giving the guy the information he wanted while insuring that he claimed the dough.

In an attempt to give out as little information as possible, Quartermain said, "I think I know where that child is. When you come to get her, will you bring the reward money?"

Willy's apprehension crept up a notch. Ever since he started this search he'd been worried about people who would claim to know where Esmeralda was, as an attempt to rip off the reward money. "I'll bring half the money with me. If the child is the one we're looking for and she's unharmed, I'll give you a key to a locker where you can recover the other half of the money."

As soon as he heard it, James didn't like it. He envisioned getting half the money and then opening an empty locker. He laid out a plan that would make it sound like he would have some help when claiming the money. "That won't work. I'll need you to bring the entire one million dollars, at which time you and I and two of my men will count the money to make sure it's all there. If it is, I'll tell you where the child is."

Willy knew this was an amateur trying insure he wasn't cheated. He'd been hoping he could offer half the reward money, get Essie back, then keep the remaining half a million for himself. He still might be able to do that, or even keep all of it. He said, "I'll bring the entire one million dollars. However, you won't get one cent of it until I have the girl, unharmed. Where are you located?"

Quartermain remained apprehensive. He needed time to think. "I'll call you back at this number in one hour."

He clicked off before the guy on the other end could protest.

Willy tried several times to call the number back, but got no answer. Cursing a blue streak he decided he had no recourse but to wait for the guy to call back.

At Jiang Leong's request, Roberto Ortega had flown to the town of Merida on Mexico's Yucatan Peninsula to discuss future plans in their pharmaceutical smuggling business. He wanted an opportunity to explain to his Oriental partner that his down payment for the first shipment of counterfeit medicine would be sent within the week. Ortega was hoping Willy would have recovered his child and money by then, although he could still afford to make the payment even if his right hand man hadn't found them.

The demeanors of the Colombian and Chinaman were diametrically opposed to each other. Leong was the stereotypical but cunning white collar criminal, who now avoided violence at all costs. On the other hand Ortega, being a former drug kingpin, hadn't forgotten how effective brutality was at settling scores. Their common thread of making large sums of money, however, overcame these differences and the two were getting along quite well over morning coffee at the Mision Merida Panamericana, a 19th century mansion that had been converted to one of the city's most luxurious hotels. Their only disagreement had been their opinions of and loyalty to opposing soccer teams.

Leong signaled a waiter for a coffee warm up. This done, he lowered his voice and began talking business. "As I told you in our first meeting, I'm looking for someone to oversee the distribution of my products over the entirety of South America. My people foresee a thriving and profitable market in virtually every country south of Panama, although the best areas for you to get your feet on the ground will be the large, populated metropolitan areas. With the growing economies in many South American countries, more citizens are able to afford health care and this has spurred an increase in the demand for prescription medication. We'd be foolish not to cash in on this situation. And once you get established in South America, we'll assist you in expanding into the African market, so you can take advantage of the soaring demand for AIDS drugs there."

Leong sipped his coffee, then continued, "I can foresee a ten to twenty million a year cut for the person who can manage these markets and keep the flow of our products moving sufficiently to meet the demand. You will, of course, be able to distance yourself from the actual operations, thereby minimizing your risk. I might also add that once your distribution conduits are set up, there's very little you have to do. You can probably conduct your business from the golf course or on a beach somewhere."

Ortega was taken aback by the substance of the conversation. Because of his late down payment, he'd expected Leong to give him an ultimatum of either pay up or get out. He leaned back and crossed his arms in thought. After a few moments, he nodded, "I appreciate your confidence in me to take on such a monumental task." He paused, debating how much to tell Leong. "At the present time, I'm dealing with a family problem. I'm sure you can understand that I cannot commit my services until I get the, ah, domestic issue resolved."

With solid gold sincerity, the Oriental said, "Of course, Señor Ortega. I'm sorry to hear that but I understand. Is there anything I can do to help?"

With equal sincerity, the Colombian replied, "Thank you for your offer. I've got my right hand man taking care of the problem, so I feel confident he'll be successful soon. Can I meet with you in a week or two to resume this discussion? By then I should be in a position to give you a firm answer and talk about the finer points of the business. Also, I'll have that down payment for the products we discussed in our last meeting."

"Certainly, Señor Ortega. I'll look forward to our next meeting. In the interim, if there is anything I can do to lend a hand to your problem, don't hesitate to contact me."

"Thank you, Mr. Leong. I will be in touch."

The two men shook hands, left the restaurant and entered different elevators.

Once at his room, Jiang Leong arranged to have a bowl of fruit and bottle of champagne sent to Roberto Ortega's room. In the bowl with the fruit was a note that read: "Thank you for your contribution to our business venture. In a token of my appreciation, a new Mercedes will soon be delivered to you from the factory."

He then called Tamiko at their home in the Caymans, "I think we've hooked Ortega. He said he can't give us a definite answer now, because he's dealing with some sort of domestic problem. Have one of our private investigators find out what Ortega's problem is. If his dilemma is the type that will draw the authorities, I want to know about it. On the other hand, if we can help him, he'll be that much more inclined to join our forces. If you find out that his concerns are not a threat to us, you can order him a new Mercedes."

It wasn't unusual for Tamiko to come up with a better solution than her husband. She knew better than to rub it in and was savvy enough to make it sound like she was just enhancing his brilliant decision. "I like that idea. Finding out all we can about Ortega and his lifestyle will pay dividends if we do business with him in the future. I'll call a detective in Bolivia on the pretense of checking out Ortega for a large real estate transaction. However, I'm also going to place a call to our man in the FBI. He's always interested in augmenting his meager government salary and his information is more credible."

Tamiko had learned early on that one of their most valuable assets they could have was an FBI field agent who would pass them routine information, for a generous gratuity. Through an acquaintance who trafficked in stolen luxury autos, she found Burton Blass, a field agent in the FBI's Albuquerque office. Blass had never impressed the bureau's management with his potential, so he'd never been assigned to one of the high profile offices such as New York or Miami. This didn't bother him in the least; he spent his career at remote field offices where he eventually discovered that he could make a tidy sum on the side by selling information.

Jiang grinned at his wife's intuitive approach to the precarious issues they dealt with on a routine basis. He said, "Honey, I don't know which I appreciate more, your knockout figure or your brain."

In a sultry voice, "Come home as soon as you can and I'll help you decide."

As soon as she hung up, Tamiko sent an e-mail to an intermediary, requesting the latest information on Roberto Ortega. It would be a few days before she received the information, but it was always worth waiting for.
CHAPTER TWENTY

Special Agent Phil Davis had followed Tibby when he and Ramon had visited the two restaurants. Because Caucasians were rare in La Paz and he didn't want to be recognized he waited in his car while they were inside.

While he waited outside La Casa de Amigos he called Manuel Ibarra. "I picked him up leaving the hotel in a rental car with a young man who looked to be Bolivian. They stopped at two restaurants and the last one was a whore house. They weren't in there long enough to get laid and then they returned to the hotel. I'm watching the hotel entrance now."

Ibarra asked the obvious question, "Why would you go to whore house if you're not going to get laid?"

"I don't know, but if you needed to talk to someone about something illegal, that would be a typical meeting place."

I went back to the hotel and called Josie. She sounded relaxed when she said, "We just returned from our daily cruise to watch the dolphins. Essie loved it and she's asleep right now. One advantage of going out on the boat, whenever we get back, Essie is out like a light for an hour or more. What's new on your end?"

"I never had any idea one person could be so hard to find. I know he has spread the word about his missing daughter, but I've only found one person who claims to know him. The guy said he'd call me back, but I'm not waiting very long." I looked at my watch; three forty.

As usual she had something encouraging to say. "You knew the guy wouldn't be easy to track down, but you're getting closer, Tibby. Just take it one step at a time."

"Is there any reason I should hurry back there?" I had been thinking about the deadline that I'd been given by the guys at the airstrip. If Ignacio didn't come through by four fifteen, I could beat my time limit by taking off, flying around a little to give my friends time to see that I'd departed, then land again and resume my search.

"Not that I know of. Things are pretty quiet around here. We got the Fed Ex and I've only seen two strangers arrive on the island and they appear to be fishermen."

I was glad to hear that we had Essie's passport, even though it could mean more trouble. I was also relieved that Josie sounded at ease. "OK. If I don't hear from this guy soon, I'm packing up and heading north. I want you to call me if you see anyone that worries you though."

"I will, Tibby. Call me if you hear anything definite."

I packed my bags and got ready to leave for the airport. I'd given Ignacio my cell phone number, so if he called I could talk to him as long as I was close enough to La Paz to get a cell phone signal. If he sounded like I could meet Roberto soon, I'd land again and take my chances.

I thought about the eventual confrontation between me and Roberto. If our initial meeting was over the phone, that would be fine with me. Then when I returned Essie to him, he'd be so overjoyed to see his child, that he wouldn't even think about retribution, right?

Stretching after just waking up, Essie suddenly remembered that Josie had promised they'd go swimming in the bay after her nap. Smiling in anticipation, she bounded out of bed and ran into the room where Josie was reading.

"Well, hi there, how was your nap?" Josie wrapped an arm around her and kissed her cheek.

"You said we could go swimming when I woke up." When she said it Essie began bouncing excitedly. "Can we, Josie? Just for a little while?"

Josie cradled her head into the crook of her neck and said, "We can go swimming until you shrivel up like a prune. Go get your swimsuit on."

Essie headed for the bedroom on a dead run. A minute later she returned wearing her suit, a sun hat, her sunglasses and carrying a towel.

Josie then took a quick look out the windows. Seeing nothing suspicious, they left for the bay. True to her word, Essie proved her swimming prowess by stroking across the shallow bay, which was several hundred feet, right next to Josie. When they crawled up on the beach, Essie was all smiles and bursting with pride. "See Josie, I can swim as good as big people."

Josie wrapped a towel around her shoulders and hugged her. "I'm really impressed, Essie. Until you told me, I had no idea you were such a good swimmer."

Essie took on a business-like demeanor as she explained, "Eva says in another year or so we're going to start my training for the Olympics. Then I'll have to work out every day doing exercises that will make me swim faster. I'll be going to more swim meets too. I've only had a couple so far and they're just for small kids."

"Essie, that's fabulous. How well have you done in the swim meets you attended?"

"I've got two first place medals and one third place medal. The third place was for the breast stroke and I'm not good at that. Eva says not to worry because I won't be very good until I'm older and more strong."

"Well, third place is not bad at all. You should be very proud, Essie." Josie decided since she was talking, now might be a good time to broach the subject of her displeasure at home. "Are you looking forward to resuming your swimming lessons when you get back home?"

Essie looked at her with those expressive eyes that concealed something about the unhappiness in her home life. Her words, however, only scratched the surface. "I like doing my swimming training with Eva. She's like you because she's fun to be with."

Josie knew that Essie wanted to open up, but she was wary of pushing too hard. "Is there something else at home that you don't like?"

Big eyes, a nod, then, "My Mama is never there and I can't go swimming unless there is an adult around. There aren't any other kids around to play with, so I get lonely. Maria is busy and she gets angry when I ask her to play a game or go out to get ice cream. Papa isn't there very much and he yells a lot, so he makes me scared. The only time I have fun is when Eva comes for swimming lessons."

Josie's heart went out to the child, who was apparently a prisoner of her father's demand for privacy. She just wanted to play with other kids and have a normal childhood, filled with fun and laughter, nothing wrong with that. There was little she could say to make Essie feel better. She certainly couldn't assure her that things would change when she was returned home, because most likely there would be no change. She thought about mentioning something to Essie's parents, but the idea of meddling in someone else's home life might not be the smartest move she could make and Essie may suffer retribution later on. She decided not to voice her concerns.

For the next few minutes, Josie and Essie sat on the beach watching a small sailboat maneuver in the bay. This was an idyllic setting but that didn't serve to raise Josie's spirits. With every passing moment they were getting closer to the time when she'd have to part with Essie. She was painfully aware that seeing Essie go would be difficult. They had become more than good friends. A bond had formed between them that would last for eternity. Even if she never saw the child again, she'd remember her with a fondness that could only be equaled by having children of her own. In this case parting would not be sweet sorrow, it would be profound sadness.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

James Quartermain dialed Willy's number again two hours after the first call.

Willy answered on the first ring and demanded, "Before you say anything else, give me a description of the girl you saw." He wanted to hear Essie's portrayal again before the guy had time to think about it.

Because he'd watched the girl and woman walk from the marina to their unit earlier, Quartermain described Essie to a tee. He then asked Willy, "Where are you now?"

"I'm on an island in the northern Caribbean. I've got a plane available and I can leave immediately. Where is the girl located?"

Quartermain had thought about this and hadn't come up with a fool proof method of getting the money, so he had to extend a measure of trust. He said, "I'm on Swordfish Cay, at the airport office. I'll wait here so I can show you where the girl is. How soon will you be here?"

"About an hour." Willy had taken on the demeanor of a hound with a scent. As he talked he was throwing charts and other essentials into a flight bag. "If anything changes between now and then, call this number immediately."

"I will."

Willy wasn't sure what he'd find when he tried to get Esmeralda back. The people who would pull off such an audacious abduction would be well armed and ready to protect themselves against anyone trying to rescue the girl. Because of that he wanted some muscle whom could be trusted and wouldn't shy away from a violent confrontation.

He called Darnell Cooper in Freeport, Grand Bahama. Over the years, Cooper had been a gun for hire, smuggling pilot and cartel soldier in between his stretches in American and Mexican prisons. Pushing fifty, but still lean and muscular, Cooper had not lost any of his talent for violence as he aged. Also, he'd been out of work for several months so he was eager to work, no matter what it entailed, for someone who would pay well.

Willy told Cooper to find another reliable man for the crew, then for both of them to wait at the airstrip on the west end of the island. He'd pick them up in thirty minutes.

Coop rounded up Lou Pike, a bald hulk of a man who got his criminal education in the slums of Los Angeles and could boast about never having held a legitimate job. Like Cooper, Pike didn't care who he sold his gun to, as long as they paid well.

Willy then called the Ortega residence outside of La Paz, Bolivia and left a message that he was following a very strong lead at Swordfish Cay. He also said he'd call with the outcome, one way or the other. After the phone call, he grabbed two duffel bags. He filled one with half a million dollars and the other with shredded newspaper. He picked up three pistols, four magazines and went out to fuel the King Air. He was airborne, bound for Grand Bahamas in fifteen minutes.

Willy picked up the two men, then departed for Swordfish Cay. On the flight, which would be about thirty minutes, he impressed upon his hired help that under no circumstances, would there be any gun play which could harm the little girl. He put an exclamation point on this by stating that anyone who harmed Esmeralda would have to answer to Señor Ortega.

He touched down on Swordfish Cay at five o'clock local time. After parking the aircraft Willy told Coop and Lou, "Stay in the aircraft, out of sight. I'll be back in a minute."

He walked to the airport office to deal with Quartermain.

Josie's thoughts were broken by the sound of the King Air's engines reversing as it braked to a stop. They were on the far side of the resort, so the runway wasn't visible from their vantage point. Her sense of survival told her this was worth checking out. She told Essie. "Stay right here, honey and don't go in the water. I'll be back in just a second."

Josie trotted to the front of the resort and looked toward the runway. The King Air was parked, the props still lazily turning. She saw a man who looked rather short but very determined walking hurriedly toward the airport office. She knew at once that he was no tourist — the guy had trouble written all over him.

Her instincts told her that they had to get off the island. She ran to the back door of her unit, slipped in and grabbed some clothes and toiletries for her and Essie. She took a quick look out the front window, but didn't see anyone.

She ran back to the beach. "Come on, Essie. We're going out on R.C.'s boat for a little while."

Essie said nothing but sensing some urgency, she picked up her beach bag and followed Josie as they walked down the beach toward the marina.

As they neared the boat Josie called, "Ahoy, Captain Clayton." No answer. Josie looked back toward the resort. They were still not visible from the runway, but if the manager told this guy which unit they were in and the guy didn't get an answer there, he might head this way looking for them.

Josie boarded the boat and again called out for R.C. She also made a lot of noise, hoping to wake him if he was napping. Essie went to the locker and got out two life vests. She was putting hers on when R.C. stuck his sleepy head out of the hatch to the cabin.

"Hello." He didn't appear to be incoherent, but Josie guessed he'd been drinking.

She tried to hide her desperation. "Hi, Rocky. We decided to go out for a sunset cruise. Is that OK with you?" Her mind was made up and the question was rhetorical; they were going regardless of how he felt about it.

"Oh sure." He climbed the stairs out of the cabin, put his hat on and looked off to the west. "By golly, it looks like it's going to be a dandy sunset too."

Josie was relieved that he didn't ask any questions or show any hesitation. R.C. started the engines, then cast off the mooring lines. One minute later they were idling past the breakwater. She looked back toward the resort and didn't see the guy from the King Air. They'd avoided him for now, but there was no telling what would be waiting for them when they returned.

Roberto Ortega read the message from Ignacio. "It is urgent that you call me at your first convenience. A short while ago, I talked to an American who claims to have information about your daughter. You can reach me either at the business or at my home."

He and Ignacio had been investment partners ever since he moved to La Paz and spent many mornings having coffee at their broker's office, while watching the movement of their particular financial ventures and making trades accordingly.

Upon getting to know each other, they discovered that they were both leaving a life of crime and making an attempt to live out their lives in a more genteel, respectable and anonymous manner. Although they rarely talked about the old days, Ortega was certain that they had once been competitors, but now shared a desire to focus on a future where their prosperity would be entirely legitimate.

Roberto quickly snatched up the phone and dialed the number, hoping his associate had some information about Esmeralda.

Ignacio told his friend about the conversation with Tibby and added, "I have a pretty good eye for people who are lying. After talking to him and observing his mannerisms, I believe this person was being completely truthful with me. I realize that you are concerned about people trying to take advantage of the situation for financial motives. If I was in your position, I would talk to this person and hear what he has to say."

"Thank you, my friend. What is his number?"

Ignacio read off the phone number and wished Roberto the best of luck, adding that he was available to help if the need arose.

Señor Ortega dialed the number.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Willy walked into the Swordfish Cay airport office with a disarming smile and casual sense of civility. "Good evening, I'm looking for James Quartermain."

Visibly nervous, the Jamaican stood up. "That's me. You must be Willy."

In a complete change of demeanor, Willy pulled his nine millimeter, walked around the desk and backed the taller man up against a wall. He shoved the barrel of his pistol into the man's neck. "Where's the girl?"

With every ounce of courage he could muster, James dared to ask, "D-do you have the m-money with you?"

Willy bounced Quartermain's head off the wall and threw his forearm into his neck. "I said, where is the girl? I want you to take me to her, now. Move!"

Nodding in compliance and without mentioning the reward again, James walked out of the office toward the unit where Josie and Essie had been staying. Upon reaching the small building, James knocked, waited a moment, then knocked again.

With his nine in the guy's back, Willy demanded, "Open it."

Using his passkey, the resort manager opened the door and stood back. Willy walked in and shouted, "Hello."

Hearing no answer, he began searching the room. When he came to a closet where Essie's toys and clothes were stored, his search became more thorough. He looked through every dresser drawer, throwing out clothes, searching for anything that might indicate beyond any doubt that he'd found Ortega's daughter.

With the demeanor of a bloodhound Willy kept searching, through the kitchen, under the beds, every drawer and closet, until he'd gone through the entire unit, leaving no space untouched. He had seen nothing that would confirm that Esmeralda was the little girl staying here, but his instincts told him it was Roberto's daughter. Now that he had the scent, nothing would deter him from continuing his search until he'd found the girl and returned her to her rightful home.

He walked toward Quartermain, who was standing just inside the door. "Do you have any idea where they went?"

More at ease, James scratched his head, then said, "They only place they could have gone is out on a boat. They flew in here in a Conquest, but the guy with them took off a couple days ago. The only way they could leave the island is by boat."

"When was the last time you saw them here?"

"This morning. I saw them walking toward the marina this morning."

Willy put on his meanest scowl. "Now you listen me, mister. You stay here and watch for them. If you see them, call me the minute you do."

As if he hadn't noticed Willy's aggression, the Jamaican said, "Tomorrow I've got to fly over to Freeport for supplies. I won't be gone for more than three hours."

Willy whipped the nine millimeter's barrel across Quartermain's cheek, cracking steel against bone and opening a two inch bloody gash.

James grabbed his bleeding face as Willy roared, "You don't go anywhere, until I say you can! You got that? You stay here and watch for that girl or I put a new hole in your left nostril, understand?"

Without waiting for an answer, Willy marched out of the room and back to the King Air. He climbed into the plane and notified his help, "We're going out looking for a boat. I'm not sure what kind it is, but it shouldn't be more than twenty or thirty miles from the island. I want you guys to check every boat we see and let me know if you see a woman or little girl on board."

Coop just uttered a discrete, "Will do, boss."

I had departed La Paz International before my deadline. Now I was circling over the Bolivian countryside when Josie called. Her concern was evident. "We're on RC's boat and we might be spending the night on the water. I saw someone land in a King Air, who definitely wasn't a tourist. This guy looked like he was searching for someone."

I didn't question her instincts. "I can fly back tonight if you want me to. I'll be there by early morning."

She knew I didn't want to leave yet and Josie wasn't the type to beg for me to come back and protect her. Hell, I wished she was here to protect me. She said, "I take it you haven't heard from that guy yet."

"No, but he's got my cell phone number, so he can call any time. If I'm en route, in an area of no service, he can still leave a message. The only problem is, if Ortega wants to meet in person and he's down here, then I've got to fly back."

A few moments of silence. "Why don't you wait until the morning. If they're going to contact you, they should do it by then. We can spend thing night on the water or find a marina for one night."

"If the guy comes looking for a boat, I would think there are enough boats on the water to make an airborne search an exercise in futility."

"I agree. This boat isn't that fast, so I'm going to tell RC to head for Green Turtle Cay, or maybe Marsh Harbor. There should be a lot of boat traffic in and out of either place, so we might be able to get lost in the clutter."

"Good idea. I'll take off early tomorrow morning. I'll call when I'm crossing Eluthera on the way back to find out where you are."

I had just hung up from talking to Josie when Roberto Ortega called. When I heard him, I knew he was making an effort not to get hostile. He identified himself, then said, "Is this the person who told Ignacio that he wanted to talk to me about my daughter?"

"Yes, it is. First, I would like to explain how we came to have your daughter."

"No!" He snapped. "I don't want any stories. How much ransom are you demanding?"

It was my turn to hold back hostilities. "Señor Ortega, you don't understand. We are not requesting any ransom."

"What do you want?" In his world everybody wanted something.

"Nothing." This time his confusion allowed me to explain. "We just want to return your daughter to you. The kidnapping of your daughter was entirely accidental. I'm in the business of recovering stolen aircraft. I was recovering the Cheyenne for a client. We didn't even know your daughter was in the aircraft until we landed. Now we just want to return her to you. She is fine and has not been harmed in any way."

I thought I might here a thank you, or something similar. Not.

He asked, "Where is she?"

"She is with a friend of mine on an island in the northern Caribbean."

"And she is OK?"

"Yes, Señor, she is fine. Also, when we meet I'll bring the money that was in your plane." I'd decided not to offer to return the plane because I felt this would just muddy the water and I really wanted to return the Cheyenne to its rightful owner.

"It's all still there?" He didn't ask about the plane and clearly though I was out of my mind.

"We took the duffle bags from your aircraft with the intention of returning it, but we haven't taken any of the money. You will get it all with your daughter."

"I'll see that you get a reward."

"Señor Ortega, at this point all I want to do is return your child and property. Although I appreciate your gesture, a reward is not necessary."

He grunted something in Bolivian. "I'm in the town of Merida, Mexico. Can you bring Esmeralda to the Bay View Resort in Montego Bay, Jamaica, day after tomorrow?"

I thought about this. The perfect place to return his child would be at his house on Amberjack Cay. However, Ortega no doubt suspected this could be a set up. If that was the case, and we met on Amberjack Cay, that would bring the law to his island home, which I was sure he wanted to avoid at all costs.

I didn't like meeting on Jamaica because I don't like Jamaica. Anywhere that tells the tourists not to walk the streets at night, has an excess of the criminal element and a shortage of law enforcement. Was that why he wanted to meet there? The only advantage I could see of meeting on Jamaica would be that their customs inspectors were very relaxed, so there should be no problem with Essie's passport. I wanted to tell him I'd call him back, but that would sound like I had to check out the site with someone else. That would send his suspicions soaring.

"OK, the Bay View Resort on Montego Bay. I'd like to meet you in the lobby. What time would be good for you?"

"Twelve noon is just fine, Señor Thibodeaux."

"I'll see you then."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

When I had first started thinking about his meeting, I'd decided that I wanted an island with two airports, so Josie could fly the Cheyenne into one and I'd land at the other in the Conquest. That way if either of us had to make a quick getaway, we wouldn't have to wait for the other person. Also, if anyone was tailing me, they wouldn't spot Josie and Essie.

I dug out a chart that covered Jamaica. Sangster International Airport was right in Montego Bay. There was a smaller airport on the west end of the island, near Negril, but it was an hour's drive from Sangster. Realizing that I might be overreacting to the possibility of a problem during the meet, I decided to talk this over with Josie.

I felt some relief because I was getting closer to returning Essie to her family. I realized Josie would hate to see her go, and I would too because I adored the little girl, but due to the unusual circumstances and the people we were dealing with, I really wanted to unite her with her family and return our lives to some sort of normalcy.

I dialed Josie and heard her recording. She must have put Essie down for the night and turned her phone off. I left a message that I'd talked to Roberto and we'd be meeting him day after tomorrow at the Bay View Resort on Montego Bay. I also said that as soon as Essie was returned to her family, Josie and I would be returning the author's Cheyenne.

I thought about heading for Cali, but was hesitant about flying a long distance with this knot on my head. Also, I had downed a couple beers with Ramon which isn't great for flying. Everything pointed to returning to La Paz and getting some rest before leaving for Cali. I landed, returned to the hotel and left a wake-up call for four o'clock. If I took off by five AM, I could be back by early afternoon, which would give me enough time to find Josie and prepare for our trip to Jamaica.

Josie read Essie a few pages out of Duck for President, then put her down for the night. She went up to the pilot house where RC was manning the helm. A scan of three-hundred and sixty degrees showed no other boats or planes within sight. She sat down to enjoy the cool evening sea breeze and the refreshing scent of salt air.

A check of her cell phone messages revealed that Tibby had talked to Roberto and scheduled a meeting. He also said he'd be leaving La Paz early the next morning. That he'd made arrangements to return Essie was a bittersweet relief, because she'd be losing an essential part of her life forever, but it would be best for everyone involved.

RC asked, "The little girl down for the night?"

"Yes. The sea is the best sleeping pill there is. She always conks out right away after being on the boat."

RC fidgeted in his chair, then said, "Ma'am, I don't like to pry into other people's business, but well, don't you think it's about time you told me what's going on? I mean, you've been carrying that heater since I first saw you. Then Tibby leaves in a hell of a hurry before I get here, an' you bring those bags on board that ain't all clothes. And now, you and the girl wanting to leave on the spur of the moment. It's like you're running from someone."

Josie welcomed the chance to bring everything out in the open. For the next fifteen minutes, she leveled with him, from finding Essie in the Cheyenne, right up to seeing Willy walking into the airport office. She left nothing out and explained about the problems Tibby had experienced in his search for Roberto.

Upon hearing the story, the skipper said, "Holy cow. Now I know why you wanted to leave so quick. That sounds like something out of a movie." He scratched his head. "I wondered where he disappeared to. Is he coming back, now that he found the girl's father?"

"He is, but he won't be here until tomorrow afternoon."

"Are you taking the girl back to her family then?"

"Yes. We're going to meet them on Jamaica and reunite Essie with her family."

With surprising empathy, RC said, "I can tell you're not happy about losing her, but I also know that it's best if she's back with her family. At least while she was away from them, she found someone who treated her real nice and she enjoyed being with."

Josie smiled at his attempt to raise her spirits.

RC then told her about something he recalled, "You know right after we left Swordfish Cay, some sort of airplane flew over us at a real low altitude and circled a few times. I just waved to them because I didn't know who it was."

"Well, they can't get to us as long as we're on the water. Where do you think would be the best place to stay out of sight until Tibby gets back?"

"Actually, I think our best bet would be to hide in plain sight. If we head for Marsh Harbor where there's a couple hundred boats, we should be able to get lost in the crowd."

"My thoughts exactly, RC. Head for Marsh Harbor."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

As soon as the King Air had lifted off from Swordfish Cay, Willy yelled back to Coop and Lou, "We're going to check out the boats within a twenty mile radius on the west side of Swordfish Cay. If the woman left by boat I don't think they would have made a run for it to the east, because in that direction, the next landfall is Africa. We're looking for a boat with no one on deck, except the pilot. The woman and girl will be hiding below to avoid detection by someone in an airplane. I'm going to drop right down on the water to get a closer look." They flew low level over several boats, but most of them were full of people and appeared to be fishermen or pleasure boats.

They'd been searching for thirty minutes when he overflew RC's boat. He saw only the pilot and no one else. He told Coop, "I'm going to circle that boat, get the name and home port if you can."

As he circled Coop studied the stern markings. He reported to Willy, "The name is the Miss Demeanor and she's out of Nassau. The guy waved when he saw us so I don't think he's hiding anyone."

Willy wasn't convinced so he filed the name into his memory. Next he consulted a chart, the boat was on a heading that would take it to Marsh Harbor, although there were a dozen other marinas on the island of Abaco. He didn't have enough fuel to stay airborne and tail the boat, but he could be waiting for it. If it didn't show up there, he could check the remaining marinas later.

He told Coop, "I'm heading for Marsh Harbor. That's the nearest marina where there's a lot of boat traffic and I'm betting they're headed there to get lost in the crowd."

He banked the King Air to a south heading.

Jiang Leong took the call from Tamiko on his private plane shortly after leaving Merida. His wife said, "According to our FBI source, Ortega's daughter was kidnapped a few days ago. He has put the word out on the street that he's offering a one million dollar reward for information leading to her recovery. He hasn't contacted any of the authorities yet, but is relying on his own people to find the girl and bring her back to him."

Jiang mulled this over for a moment. "Does anyone have any idea who is behind the abduction, or why it was done?"

"No to both. There has been no ransom request and no one has claimed responsibility for the kidnapping. Also, no one has officially reported the abduction, so the FBI can't begin investigating it. Their theory is that it was pulled off by someone who Ortega muscled out of business while he was prominent in the Cali cartel."

"OK, honey. Thanks for the call. I'll be landing in thirty minutes."

For the rest of the flight, Jiang thought about that information. He wanted to find a way to help Ortega, so the Colombian would be indebted to him. In a situation such as a kidnapping, however, that might not be easy. Ortega's influence was capable of spreading tentacles through Central and South America, so he'd undoubtedly been able to mobilize a vast network to deal with his problem.

Jiang didn't have nearly as many resources. Using the situation to his advantage would be difficult. He decided to talk this over with Tamiko after landing.

RC continued steering directly toward Marsh Harbor. They idled into the dock area about nine o'clock. He told Josie, "I'll tie us up in the area for visiting boats, then go up to the marina and pay for one night's dock fees. I'm going to tell them that we came from Miami, so if anyone comes asking around, they might not look at us too close."

Josie knew that wouldn't stop someone who was determined to find them, but he meant well and she appreciated his efforts. She nodded her agreement, then asked, "Where's the airport from here?"

"Two miles due south of us. We should be able to see the landing planes from here."

As RC walked to the marina office, Josie looked toward the airport. She didn't see the lights of any planes in the air. If the King Air from Swordfish Cay was headed here, considering the differences in speeds of the boat and a plane, they could have landed hours ago.

She picked up the binoculars and began scoping out the people around the marina. The only areas she could see well were the lighted areas, around the docks and the marina buildings that housed the marina office, a bar and restaurant, mini-market and marine supply store. It was still fairly busy with people coming and going from the restaurant, but she didn't see anyone that could be considered suspect.

Josie looked for the security apparatus around the dock area. It was a sturdy fence and gate that limited the traffic on the docks to boaters or friends. She noticed one couple opening the access gate; they used a key. This was better than the usual key pad that had three or four dirty keys that made up the combination and were notoriously easy for a stranger to decipher.

She lowered the binoculars, thinking about the chances of the guy in the King Air coming to the same marina. In a turboprop aircraft he could cover several islands and many marinas in a few hours. If he wasn't here now, chances were pretty good that he'd be here before the sun broke over the horizon tomorrow morning.

RC came back and before boarding asked, "That restaurant smells like they're cooking up something mighty tasty in there. Do you want me to grab us a couple of sandwiches, since we'll probably be up late tonight?"

When they were on the water, Josie had fed Essie but didn't take time to eat herself. His idea sounded great. "Sure. I'll have a tuna fish sandwich with a side of coleslaw. While you're there watch for a short-ish, mean looking guy dressed in khaki slacks and dark blue shirt that doesn't look like a tourist and appears to be searching for someone on a boat."

RC nodded in compliance. "O.K., be right back."

After he left, Josie went down to check on Essie, who was sleeping soundly. She returned to the wheel house and continued to watch the marina. This time she focused on the dark areas at the boundaries of the marina property, where someone might be sneaking through the shadows. She didn't see anyone slinking around the unlit areas, but if the guy was good, he'd move from place to place without being seen.

Twenty minutes later, R.C. came back carrying two bags and two drinks in Styrofoam cups. He assured her, "While I was waiting, I looked everyone over pretty good but didn't see anyone who fit your description."

"All we can do is maintain a good lookout. Let's eat."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

As soon as Willy landed at Marsh Harbor, his phone rang; the number was Roberto's. He decided not to answer it because he didn't want to tell the boss that he hadn't found his daughter yet. He knew they were closing in on the woman with the little girl and he was certain the child was Ortega's daughter. He'd call the boss back when he could give him the good news, that he'd recovered Esmeralda and she was safe. Also, Roberto would be pleased to hear that he'd killed the woman who'd abducted his daughter.

To stay out of sight, Willy and Coop had gone next door and bribed the motel manager on duty to let them use the roof for their vantage point. They had been laid out on the roof for an hour now, checking out the boats tied up at the docks. Lou stayed inside the marina restaurant with instructions to watch for the woman and girl.

Willy said, "See the big Bertram parked at the far end of the dock next to the Catamaran?"

"Yeah. Is that the same one we saw, where the guy waved at us?"

"I can't see the transom so I don't know if it's the same one or not, but a guy just walked out of the restaurant boarded that boat. He was carrying some take-out food and two drinks. I can't see into the wheel house because of the glare from the lights, but there's definitely someone else on that boat who doesn't want to be seen."

"Why do you say that?"

"When you tie up to the dock, after being on a boat for five or six hours, the last thing you want to do is eat on the boat. Most people would want to get off the boat and stretch their legs. The only reason you'd stay on the boat is if you didn't want to be seen."

Coop nodded. "You gonna check it out?"

"Yes, I am. If I give you the tools, can you pick a lock?"

"Sure, no problem."

"Good." Willy handed him small leather case. "They'll be watching for anyone coming through the gate to the dock area. I'm going out to the point beyond the breakwater and swim over to the Bertram. Check your watch; it's twenty-four past the hour, now. At fifty-five, I want you and Lou to slip the lock in the gate and head for the Bertram. Don't board the boat, but wait close enough that you can hear me when I yell."

"Got it."

"Hang onto these." Willy handed his wallet and keys to Coop. "This is all I need." He then screwed a silencer on a nine millimeter.

Willy climbed down from the roof and walked the half mile to the end of the motel grounds. He came to a picnic area on the shoreline and continued across the grassy park until he was at the water's edge, just beyond the breakwater that protected the marina's docks. He took off his shoes and slipped into the water, feeling his way along the concrete barrier.

When he came to the end of the breakwater, he paused making sure there were no boats inbound or outbound. He then looked for the Bertram. It was farthest away in a line of boats tied up at the visitor's docks. The boat closest to him was a big Hatteras convertible motor yacht, in the sixty foot range. He didn't see any lights on board so he watched it for a minute to make sure there was no activity on deck.

Seeing no movement, he began swimming silently toward it. Willy stopped when he reached the swim ladder on the rear of the Hatteras convertible. He checked his watch in the lights over the dock, then slipped back to the dark side of the boat. He had twelve minutes.

He made his way along the waterline of the motor yacht, being careful not to bump the hull where it could be heard by anyone in a lower cabin. The next boat in line was a smaller fishing boat. Just as he reached the bow of the yacht, three men came out of the cabin on the fishing boat and sat down on the after deck. From listening to their talk about the day's fishing, Willy could tell they were drunk. They wouldn't be a problem.

He slipped under the water and swam to the middle of the fishing boat where he surfaced and continued to the Catamaran. He stopped momentarily. Hearing no sounds, he swam to the stern of the Catamaran, then stroked his way to the bow.

From there he checked the time and watched the Bertram. He had four minutes until Coop and Lou would be coming through the gate. He didn't want them standing around in the lights of the dock any longer than necessary, so he had to board the boat and find the child as quickly as possible.

Josie was in the galley, putting the containers from their dinner in the trash. She had finished this and was about to check on Essie when R.C. stuck his head in the hatch. "Josie, two men coming out of the restaurant, heading for the gate and they don't look like boaters."

Josie climbed up into the wheel house and took the binoculars. R.C. had been right on with his observation. However, neither of them was the one she'd seen entering the airport office on Swordfish Cay.

She watched as they stopped long enough to pick the lock on the gate. "R.C., whatever you do, don't let them on this boat."

"Yes, ma'am." He went to a locker and pulled out a forty-four magnum rifle and started shoving shells into the gun.

Josie thought about the other guy; he had to be approaching their boat in the water. She walked on the gunwale walkway toward the stern on the dark side away from the dock lights. Halfway there, she stopped to listen for any sounds from the water, but the music from the restaurant's outside speakers was too loud.

She crouched and waited. Then she felt it, a slight tip to the boat as if someone was hanging onto the swim platform. She looked at the water, it was like glass. No chop to rock the boat. She crept back to the wheel house.

Motioning for R.C. to be quiet, she whispered, "I'm going to untie the mooring lines. When I get the bow line untied, start the engine. As soon as I take the stern line off, put it in reverse and back up ten feet. Then get out of the harbor."

He stared back with a face full of questions.

"Just do it."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Josie looked out the window. The two men on the dock were standing next to an old cabin cruiser staring at RC's boat. She thought they were too far away to reach her in the time it would take her to cast off the mooring lines, but there was only one way to really find out.

She ran out the door toward the forward cleat and untied the bow mooring line. They made no move toward the boat. She was betting they'd been told not to do anything until someone else gave them the signal. That someone had to be the guy coming from the water.

She heard the engine start and dashed to the stern line. She pulled it off the cleat and ducked back into the shadows where she watched the rear of the boat. From the cover of darkness she saw one hand holding onto the swim platform. Within seconds a face appeared out of the inky water, followed by a second hand that held a silenced automatic.

The boat jerked as R.C. put it in reverse. The guy she'd seen at the airport stared in disbelief. He raised the gun, but as the boat started backing up, he was forced down under the swim platform. Going under, toward the spinning props, and knowing what fate awaited him, he let out a short scream that was drowned out when his head went under.

Seconds later R.C. pulled away from the dock. Josie glanced at the red stain in the water. If the guy wasn't dead, he wouldn't be chasing anyone. The two punks on the dock were still staring at her without a clue of what they should do next.

She dashed back to the wheel house and grabbed the rifle. If the two goons opened fire, it would be the last thing they did. She watched for movement but didn't see any. Then she heard a feint scream and one of them ran to spot where they'd been docked. She guessed the guy in the water was still alive, but she wasn't going to worry about him.

They were idling past the breakwater when R.C. looked at her. He didn't know whether to smile or frown. "It felt like I hit something back there. Did we get rid of one of those guys?"

"That possibility exists. How's our fuel?"

"Josie, I filled up as soon as we arrived, so we've got full tanks both sides. Where do you want to go?"

"Can we make Rock Sound, Eleuthera by the morning?"

"Sure can, with an hour or two to spare." He rubbed his beard, then asked, "Do you feel like taking the wheel while I grab a couple hours of sleep?"

After the events of the past few minutes, Josie knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. "Be glad to, what's my course?"

"Hold this heading for half an hour so we'll clear the reefs. Then steer about one seventy. You'll see the lights of Harbour Island in about six and a half hours. When you see the lights, turn twenty degrees left to parallel the island. I should be up by then."

"Get some sleep."

Josie poured herself a cup of coffee, then settled into the captain's chair. She checked the clock so she'd know when to make the turn to a southerly heading. Then she thought about the scene they were leaving behind on Marsh Harbor.

The two hired hands will probably disappear. Men like that don't do anything unless someone gives them orders. Once they find out that their boss lost a fight with a propeller, they'll realize they're not getting paid, so there will be no reason to stick around. They might not even help their boss because of the involvement of the authorities and they certainly won't talk to the law because by doing so they'd implicate themselves.

In a harbor community boating accidents are not unusual. The guy in the water will be hospitalized under a John Doe. If he dies he probably didn't have any information on him to specify next of kin. Because he's not from the island, the authorities will make a token effort to find some relatives, after which he'll be buried with the rest of the nameless drifters that roam from one island to the next, earning only enough money for their next drink. No one will mourn his passing.

As hard as it was going to be, Josie had reached the point where she would be glad to see Essie reunited with her family. She worried constantly that despite her best efforts, the recent violence they had encountered would eventually bring harm to Essie. Also, even though she was only seven, the child knew what was taking place and she probably felt like she was the source of many problems. All things considered, it was time for her to go home. She prayed that the reunion tomorrow came off with no glitches.

R.C.'s Bertram had just pulled out of the harbor, when Coop and Lou heard Willy Camerena's screams for help. They pulled him up onto the dock, then called for para-medics. The medical help arrived soon enough to keep Willy from bleeding to death on the dock, but they also discovered that the propeller had severed one leg at the ankle and the other was badly fractured. The medics administered as much help as they could, then called for a med-evac helicopter to fly him to Freeport on Grand Bahama.

Even though he was in horrible pain, before he succumbed to the medication, Willy had the presence of mind to tell Coop, "Señor Ortega's phone number is in the wallet I gave you." Grimacing from intense pain he moaned, "Take the King Air and find Ortega. You're working for him now."

Willy passed out as they were loading him onto a gurney. Coop and Lou headed for the airport. They were desperate to locate Roberto Ortega mainly because he was the one who'd be paying them.

The next morning, feeling refreshed after a good night's sleep, I checked out of the hotel at four-thirty. I drove to the airport, returned the rented Buick, then caught a shuttle to the terminal. The general aviation waiting room was off the airline terminal and small, only two dozen seats. As soon as I walked in, I saw a guy sitting off in a corner. The only person who sits in an airport terminal at five o'clock in the morning is a cop waiting for someone like me. I looked at his leg and saw the bulge from his ankle holster carrying his fall back piece. Suspicion confirmed.

When he saw me, he made a poor effort to be engrossed in a magazine, as if he was passing the time while waiting for an airplane.

If he was waiting for me, he'd be calling someone to report the sighting as soon as I left the terminal. I walked out to the Conquest, feeling relieved that my friends from the dirt airstrip hadn't noticed my return and burnt my plane into a charred heap. I threw my luggage into the cargo hatch, then walked back into the terminal. Sure enough, the guy had a cell phone pressed to his ear.

I went into the restroom, thinking about this. Obviously, they weren't going to arrest me. I had registered at the hotel under my real name, so they could have easily found out where I was staying and grabbed me at any time. But they didn't. They were tailing me instead and not working very hard at remaining incognito.

The tail had to be a result of the tap on T-Bone's phone. If that was the case, all they had me for was ordering phony passports, but they'd have a hard time proving it was me so their case would hold up in court. Also, the passports weren't in my possession so I didn't think they could charge me. Had they figured out the connection between myself and Roberto? I didn't see how that was possible. I concluded they were tailing me until they found out who would be using the phony passports.

I left the can, stopped at the counter to pay my ramp fees and walked back out to the plane. I performed my normal walk around inspection, then looked a little closer at some places where they could hide a tracking transponder. I found one on the left landing gear door and guessed there was another bug somewhere on the plane. I opened one engine cowling and looked for their bug. Seeing nothing out of place I opened the other and saw the transmitter right on the cover right below the exhaust.

I looked at the terminal and saw the guy watching me from the window. I thought about returning the bugs to him, but for all he knew I was just doing my normal checks before departing, so I decided to leave it that way. Granted, once I was airborne they'd soon discover that they weren't tracking me and they'd be able to follow me at a distance through ATC, but I was going to make them work at it. Deciding to toss them out the window as I taxied out, I slipped the bugs into my pocket and buttoned up the engine cowl.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The FBI had found out through informants about the kidnapping of Roberto Ortega's daughter. Because of his long time involvement in the manufacturing and distribution of contraband, Ortega was well known to the agents who had served in South America. The native Colombian had earned himself a thick file in their records and a place high on their list of most wanted. The problem that the FBI faced was statute of limitations. Although they were certain of his guilt, they might not be able to touch Ortega unless they discovered a recent crime that he'd committed, or found credible proof of his involvement in a murder connected to the U.S., which has no statute of limitations.

When the FBI discovered that Ortega was alive and residing in La Paz, Bolivia and that Gabriel Thibodeaux had flown to the same city, they dismissed a coincidence, although they realized Thibodeaux's visit could be related to his aircraft recovery business. In an effort to find out if there was a connection between the two, Special Agent Davis questioned hotel and airport employees as soon as he and Agent Ibarra had arrived in La Paz.

After being notified that Thibodeaux was departing La Paz, Davis called Donald Kay, one of his counterparts in his home office. "We questioned hotel employees who told us that he was looking for someone named Roberto Ortega. But we don't have any connection whatsoever between Thibodeaux and Ortega. He just took off alone."

Kay asked, "Has Thibodeaux ever been implicated in any drug transactions?"

"Not that we know of. When I found out that he ordered some counterfeit passports, I thought he might be using the phony passports to smuggle some illegal immigrants into the country, but he doesn't have anyone with him. I called the local police and asked if they knew anything about Ortega; they'd never heard of him."

"Could Thibodeaux be involved in the abduction of Ortega's daughter?"

"That is a possibility but I don't like him for kidnapping. Besides, we can't grab him because Ortega never reported the abduction. We're not supposed to know it took place so we don't have probable cause to even question anyone. There's another possibility. Because he's in the business of recovering stolen aircraft, and most aircraft used in hauling drugs are stolen, Thibodeaux has a plausible reason to make frequent trips to and from the U.S. and South America in several different types of aircraft. He could be in the process of exploiting his situation and going into some sort of smuggling business with Ortega."

Silence while agent Kay thought about this. "We've got plenty of possibilities but nothing concrete enough to pursue. Ortega hasn't been on anyone's radar for years; we all thought he was dead, or out of the business. He could be getting back into the game using Thibodeaux as his primary mule."

"Have you ever known anyone who made a ton of money in drugs to get completely out? Some of them try, but most of them end up living way above their means and they all end up succumbing to the need for more income."

Kay asked, "Where did you say Thibodeaux was going?"

"We're not sure. He only filed a flight plan to Cali."

"O.K. I'm going to have ATC track his aircraft. We've also got feelers out at several airports to report a sighting of Ortega. I want you and Ibarra to fly up to Nassau and wait until we hear something. Thibodeaux knows we're on his tail so he's not going to lead us to anyone soon. We don't have anything solid enough for us to pick him up, but eventually this character is going to lead us to someone, I'd stake my paycheck on that."

"We'll be airborne in thirty minutes."

Except for some early morning storms over the Colombian border, the flight was uneventful and flying weather was excellent with a few scattered cloud layers and the usual wind from the jet stream at altitude. I wondered if the law enforcement plane had taken off from La Paz yet.

My thoughts turned to the process of returning Esmeralda to her father. I hoped it would be a very simple, here's your child and I apologize for all the anguish we caused you.

However, some people can't do anything easily. I didn't know if Ortega fit into this category, but I was certain that he wasn't used to anyone taking his child, no matter what the circumstances. I worried that the reunion would be problematic and wracked my brain trying to foresee any glitches that could pop up. Considering the people I was dealing with and the emotions involved, this was fertile ground for all sorts of misunderstandings and difficulties.

I wondered if I should recruit some muscle to back up Josie and I. Ortega wouldn't be alone and whomever he had with him would be armed to the teeth. I was glad I had specified that the reunion take place in the hotel lobby where there might be witnesses and the possibility of violence was hopefully less.

I called Josie during a stop at Cali. She answered and sounded like she wasn't under any duress, but she seldom was. Still, I was relieved until I asked, "How was your night?"

"We had a near miss. The guy who I saw on Swordfish Cay, showed up at Marsh Harbor. However, he tangled with a boat propeller and lost. I'm not worried about him but he did have two goons with him that might take up the chase. We are presently pulling into Rock Sound, Eleuthera."

I thought about the guy in the terminal at La Paz. She knew the difference, but I still worried that Josie might have knocked off a federal agent. "Tangled with a boat propeller? I had some feds watching me in La Paz. Are you sure the guy you saw wasn't from one of the alphabet agencies?"

"No. No way." Little doubt in her voice. "He was only after Essie and the money. Where are you?"

"I'm about to leave Cali. Where do you want me to land?"

"Rock Sound would be just great. Just give me a call when you know your ETA and we'll take a cab to the airport to meet you."

"I'll see you in about six hours."
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Juanita Ortega had been housebound, surviving on tranquilizers since her daughter went missing. Wracked with grief, she had confidence in her husband's ability to recover their daughter. However, she also remembered occasions in the violent life they once lived, where relatives of acquaintances had been held for ransom and were supposed to be released unharmed, but came back in a box.

Aware of her fragile condition Roberto worried that having her around during the meeting would be too much of a distraction and if he had to leave in a hurry, her condition wasn't conducive to moving quickly. Over the phone, he explained, "Juanita, I have scheduled a meeting with the man who has Esmeralda. He has assured me that she is unharmed and I am confident that we'll be getting her back soon. I think it would be best if you called Rafael Menendez to fly you and Maria to the house on Amberjack Cay. As soon as I have Essie back, I'll fly her over there."

Upon hearing the good news, Juanita would have flown to the end of the earth if it meant seeing her daughter alive and well. "Como? De veras? I am so glad to hear that, Roberto. I will call Rafael at once. Please let me know what happens when you'll be leaving for the island."

Roberto agreed to stay in touch with his wife, but he didn't convey his apprehension about the legitimacy of the meeting. Because of his past, Ortega wore suspicion like a body sock. Even since he'd hauled his first load of drugs for his uncle in Bogota, Colombia, he'd lived by one creed: Trust no one.

Not for a second was he buying the story about the guy finding Esmeralda while he'd been recovering the aircraft for a client. His instincts that had kept him alive and out of jail for decades sensed a well planned set-up. He suspected that his daughter's disappearance was being used by the authorities as a means to draw him out. He planned on going to Jamaica, but he was taking every precaution, with contingencies for getting away if he saw anything that indicated he was walking into a trap. Unfortunately, because of the possibility that this was a legitimate attempt to return his daughter to him, Roberto couldn't operate in a strictly defensive manner that normally suited him.

I landed at Rock Sound Eleuthera in the early afternoon, then took a cab to the marina. Being able to hug Josie and Essie again raised my spirits to an unbelievable level and even eased my apprehension about the upcoming meeting with Ortega.

R.C. looked glad to see me because my presence meant he could cruise back to Nassau and distance himself from all the strange goings on. I told him, "Rocky, I appreciate all of your help. I imagine you're ready to bid us good bye and sail back to a more normal life in Nassau."

Hat in hand, he confirmed my suspicions, "Tibby, I'm glad I could help, but you're right. I'll be on my way and we'll call it even as far as the money goes."

His presence was worth a lot more than I'd paid him. "No, you came through for us when we needed you, R.C. I'll have my secretary send you a check for the balance. We'll get our things out of your boat and grab a cab to the nearest motel."

He nodded nervously, then pecked Josie and Essie on the cheek and said, "Josie, I hope everything works out just fine."

"Thanks, R.C. You were a life saver."

As we walked to the front of the marina, Josie said, "I'm glad you're sending him the balance of his fees because he hung in there when he knew things might get dirty."

"I'll have Margaret send him an extra five hundred. Do you have any preference on hotels?"

"No, just find one close. I could use a drink."

Because she rarely took a drink, I realized how hard this had been on Josie. This was another reason that I hoped things came off smoothly tomorrow.

From the marina I called the Marissa Inn because it was one of the closest hotels. The person I talked to said, "We've got a vacancy for you, Mr. Thibodeaux and our van is on its way to the marina now."

Thirty minutes later we checked into our suite. I called the restaurant and asked them to send over a vodka tonic, a dry martini and a big soda with a cherry in it.

While we were waiting, Essie came and sat down with us on the sofa. In a voice that seemed older than her seven years, she asked me, "While you were gone did you go to La Paz?"

"Yes, I did, honey."

"Did you see mi padre?"

"I didn't see him, Essie, but I talked to him on the phone."

"Am I going back to them?"

When she referring to her family as, them, she drove home the point about her not wanting to return to her family. I snuck a peak at Josie, who returned a rock hard stare. I took this to mean we have to make a tough choice here; there is no alternative.

I looked at Essie's big brown eyes, then uttered the hardest words I've ever had to say. "Essie, honey, we have to return you to your family. We can't keep you with us because as much as we love you, you're not our child."

She digested these words, thought for a second, then offered her solution to the situation, "Can't I stay with you and Josie for a little while longer?"

A tear ran down Josie's cheek when she said, "No, honey, you can't. Your family wants you back and you belong with them. We've loved having you with us but you have to return to your family."

Essie saw the tears, climbed into Josie's lap and lay her head on Josie's chest. More tears and I was getting close. I ordered another martini.

The night went by with no more talk about tomorrow's reunion, but Essie was unusually quiet, even as they played Chuzzle. I stared at the TV until Essie went to bed, then Josie and I talked over our plans for tomorrow.

"We'll go back to Swordfish Cay first to pick up all our things and pay the bill. There is a chance that the FBI will be waiting for me, but if they had enough on me to pick me up, they would have done it by now."

"If they should pick you up and don't hold your plane, I'm heading for Jamaica and taking Essie back to her father?"

"Definitely. Whatever happens I don't want Ortega to think we reneged on the deal. That will just give him cause to think that we're not as innocent as I made us out to be."

She nodded. "I agree."

"If the fee-bees don't butt in, we'll fly to Andros. We'll check out the Cheyenne and make sure it's been fueled. Then you can take Essie and fly it to Jamaica."

"Are we both going to land at the same airport on Jamaica?"

Josie was concerned about us being in close proximity if the FBI decided to pick me up. I'd thought about landing at two different airports but in this case the logistics were against us. "We'll have to. The closest airport to Sangster International is out by Negril and that's over an hour's drive away."

Josie agreed. "O.K., I can't argue with that. How are you going to handle returning Essie?"

This was a time to lay it all on the table and I wanted Josie's input on every move we made. "I don't mind telling you, I'm worried."

"Why? What do you think is going to go wrong?"

I figured Josie asked that because she also felt some trepidation and wanted me to validate her fears. "If we were dealing with anyone else on earth, I'd be confident that everything would work out just fine. However, we're dealing with someone who spent his life watching his back and being suspicious of other people. If he sees anyone who he thinks is the law, or if the law is really there, he's gone. Whether he has his daughter or not, he's going to disappear faster than a politician's conscience."

"So what are we going to do?"

"I think it would be best if we checked into separate hotels. You and Essie will stay at the Bay View Resort and I'll check into the Windward Shores Inn next door. At the designated time, I'll walk over and meet Ortega in the lobby of the Bay View. When he shows up and everything looks cool, I'll call the room and you can bring Essie down."

I looked at Josie, anxious to hear her opinion of my plans. She nodded, "I like the idea of meeting in the lobby. What about Ortega's money?"

"I'll have to leave it on the Conquest and hope like hell that customs doesn't decide to do a plane search. Given the laxity of the inspectors on Jamaica, I think I'm safe. When I return Essie to Roberto, I'll tell him where it is and he'll have to come to the airport to get it."

She nodded her agreement, then took a sip. "Tibby, even though it means we're giving up Essie, you have no idea how much I want tomorrow to be over with."

I slid over on the sofa and kissed her. "I agree. Once she's reunited with her family, it will be best for everyone."
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Although she never had been talkative, the next morning Essie was unusually quiet. Josie noticed it too and when the child was brushing her teeth, she told me, "Essie knows she's going back and there's nothing she can do about it. I wonder if this is the first big tragedy in her young life?"

"I don't know, but I imagine she won't forget it for a while. Do you think she holds it against us?"

"No, children are surprisingly intuitive. She knows we don't have a choice."

As soon as Essie finished up, we packed out things, paid the bill and flew to Swordfish Cay. Once there, Josie and Essie went right to the room to gather our belongings and I headed for the office to settle up. I'd just walked into the office when I discovered that my cash was running low and I didn't have enough to pay the bill here. Knowing it was setting off alarms somewhere and helping whomever was tailing me, find me, I'd have to use a credit card.

As he figured my bill and ran the card, the manager said, "That's a cute little girl you have there. Did she enjoy her stay here?"

There was something about the guy's question that made it sound like he had a purpose in asking it. As I signed the bill, I thought about the character who showed up and caused Josie and Essie to leave on R.C.'s boat. The only way that person could have known they were here was if this joker sold them out, undoubtedly for the reward on Essie.

I decided there was no reason to bring that up now. All I wanted to do was get out of here and meet Roberto. With a tourist's smile, I shoved my wallet in my back pocket. "Oh, she loved it here, had the time of her life. But, all the boating and swimming is over now. Time to head back to Phoenix and rejoin the rat race."

He shot me a cursory glance and grunted something. While promising that we'd be back, I bid him good bye and left the office.

On the way back to the unit, I looked over the aircraft parking ramp. The only other aircraft parked here besides mine was a Cessna Centurion. I didn't think any of the federal agencies flew this type of aircraft, so if the feds were still tailing me, they were way behind.

I met Josie and Essie as they were coming out of the unit. Josie said, "Someone tossed the place after we left, but nothing was missing. There's two bags on the bed and that's everything." I grabbed the last two suitcases, took a last look around the room and followed them to the plane.

I've always been a talkative, outgoing type, but as we were buckling in, I tried to think of something to say to Essie, some words that might ease the tension. Finally, I turned around and tried, "Do you think you'd like to come back here some day, Essie?"

Her dark eyes didn't even meet mine. She stared at the window and shook her head. I don't have that much experience with children, but even I knew that she had pulled herself into a hole and because we had only a couple more hours to spend with her, we might never see her come out of it. I looked at Josie; she bit her lip and turned to look out the window.

I hated for them to part company under these circumstances. For the first time in my life, as I started my engine, I prayed for a mechanical problem.

Special Agent Phil Davis and Customs Agent Manuel Ibarra made a fuel stop at Barranquilla, Colombia, whereupon Davis was notified of Thibodeaux's credit card activity at Swordfish Cay. Davis then called airport office at Swordfish Cay. He identified himself, then said, "We're looking for a white and blue Cessna Conquest, tail number, November Four-Four Charlie-Charlie. We think the plane is inbound to your airport. If you should see this plane, don't tell anyone that I was asking about it."

Quartermain had given up on seeing Willy or his reward money, so he had no reason not help the feds, "Well, the aircraft you are looking for landed about twenty minutes ago."

"Did you have a chance to talk to the pilot?"

"Sure did, he came in here and paid his bill. Said he was headed for Phoenix."

"Was he alone?"

"He was alone when he paid his bill, but when he landed the woman and little girl got off the plane with him."

Davis thought about that statement. If Thibodeaux was smuggling people, or if he was in cahoots with Ortega, why would he have a child with him? Unless — it hit him like a sledgehammer. "Can you describe the little girl for me?"

Again Quartermain gave Essie's description, although he didn't think it would result in any reward money. He added, "There was another guy who was real interested in that little girl and I've got a gash in my face to prove it. And another thing, she doesn't look like their child."

"What do you mean you've got a gash in your face?"

Quartermain explained his encounter with Willy and the realization that he'd never see a cent of the reward money.

Davis asked, "What does the woman with Thibodeaux look like?"

The airport manager described Josie right down to her blue eyes.

"Does it look like they're getting ready to depart?"

"I'd say so. They're paid up and loading the Conquest right now."

"Thank you, Mr. Quartermain, you've been very helpful."

He told Ibarra, "The airport manager where they've been staying said Thibodeaux is at Swordfish Cay and he's got a little girl with him who fits the description of Ortega's daughter and is definitely not the child of Thibodeaux and the woman he's with. The guy also said that someone has already been there. A guy who was offering a million dollar reward for the safe return of the girl."

Ibarra sounded aghast. "So Thibodeaux is the kidnapper?"

"It sure looks that way. That's why he ordered the phony passport, so he could move the kid around, and that's why he was down in La Paz; he was trying to arrange for a ransom payment."

"What kind of moron snatches the daughter of a cartel heavyweight?"

Davis shot him a glance. "I don't know. I knew he was up to something shady but I never took the guy for a kidnapper."

Anxious for some action, Ibarra said, "Well, you've got probable cause to pick him up now. Let's go get 'im."

Davis didn't agree. "What probable cause? That he's got a little girl with him? Last time I checked taking kids on a plane ride wasn't a crime."

"Well, you said...."

In his frustration, Davis didn't want to belabor the point any further. "He's getting ready to depart. Call San Juan Center and see if they have a flight plan on file for Thibodeaux's Conquest. He told the airport manager he was headed to Phoenix, but he suspects someone is on his tail; I think he said that to throw us off."

ICE Officer Ibarra listened as the ATC supervisor at San Juan Center told him, "We don't have an IFR flight plan to Phoenix on that aircraft, but we do have a VFR flight plan to Sangster International Airport on Montego Bay, Jamaica, with a stop at Andros."

Ibarra told Davis, who became further incensed. "That's great. Now he's headed for Montego Bay, but why? And with a little girl who doesn't look like his child." He turned to Ibarra and aired his thoughts, "Could he be smuggling the child somewhere? Do your people work many cases of guys smuggling kids into the country?"

"Phil, if there's money in it, people will smuggle dead rats into the good ol' US."
CHAPTER THIRTY

The flight to Andros took me less than an hour. After landing I helped Josie move their things into the Cheyenne and made sure it had been fueled, then paid the parking fees.

We then took off for Jamaica, the girls in the Cheyenne and me in my Conquest. After landing at Sangster International, we parked at opposite ends of the itinerant parking ramp, then cleared customs and caught a cab to the Bay View Resort, where I'd be meeting Ortega. Once there, Josie registered in her name and I went next door and registered at the Windward Shores Inn.

I had two hours before I had to meet Ortega. I switched on the television and stared at the local station where the anchor man was warning people about the possible dangers of a hurricane that was building in the mid Atlantic. Talking to myself, "It can't get here in two hours, so that's one thing we don't have to worry about."

With nothing at all on the television, I headed for the door to take a walk around the grounds and burn some nervous energy. Halfway there I decided that I'd be better off staying out of sight for now. I laid down, trying not to think of the upcoming meeting.

For the first time that he could remember, Roberto Ortega was cursing Willy, his long time body guard. Now when he was in dire need of his help, Willy hadn't been answering his cell phone. Ortega worried that he'd been picked up by the law during his search for Esmeralda or while stealing a plane to replace the Cheyenne that had been stolen. He was confident his right hand man wouldn't do anything foolish, but realized Willy was zealous to the point of being obsessive, about finding Esmeralda.

Roberto's problem was he didn't have the resources of muscle that he once had. Six years ago, had he found himself in this situation he could have rounded up fifty well armed men in an hour. Now, the only triggerman he used was his trusted body guard. He was thinking about how vulnerable and exposed he felt when his cell phone rang.

A strange voice said, "Mr. Ortega, My name is Cooper. Your man, Willy, hired us to help find your daughter, but he had an accident last night. He's in the hospital and said to call you because we'd be working directly for you now."

Ortega was glad to hear he'd have some back-up, but wasn't sure they could make it to Jamaica in time. "Do you have a plane at your disposal?"

"Yeah, we got the King Air that Willy was using and I can fly it."

"How soon can you get to Jamaica?"

"We can be there in two or three hours."

"Good. Get down here as soon as you can. Meet me at the High Tide restaurant next to the Bay View Resort. I'll be there until I have to meet someone at the resort."

"Got it. We'll leave right away."

Special Agent Davis was preparing to depart on Thibodeaux's tail when his phone rang. A fellow FBI agent told him, "A man who fits the description of Roberto Ortega to a tee was seen getting off a private jet at Jamaica's Sangster International Airport. Photos were being processed now to compare to old file photos of the former drug kingpin."

With a smile, he looked at Ibarra and said, "Bingo! Sangster International Airport is becoming a very popular place."

Davis thought about the flight plan information. Thibodeaux had filed with a stop in Andros. He had to make sure he wasn't jumping to conclusions. He told the agent on the phone, "Call the control tower supervisor at Sangster. The tail number of Thibodeaux's Conquest is N44CC. Find out if it's parked there. I'll wait."

Davis waited for three minutes, then the voice said, "The tower supervisor said that aircraft landed about an hour ago and is parked on the ramp."

Davis asked, "Find out if they noticed a woman and little girl get off the plane with him."

A slight delay, then "He said they were pretty busy at the time and didn't see who got off the plane."

Davis signed off. He was taking the runway for departure when his phone rang again. "We just got another hit on Thibodeaux's credit card. He registered at the Windward Shores Resort in Half Moon Village on Jamaica."

Davis told Ibarra, "They're both at Jamaica. Thibodeaux is registered at the Windward Shores. That has to be where the exchange and ransom payment is taking place."

After Davis said this he thought about his quandary; nobody had reported a kidnapping, or any other crime to the FBI. Still, all of his law enforcement instincts told him not to pass up this opportunity. He'd heard too many stories of situations where agents let a suspect slip through their fingers, never to be seen again. In spite of the weak probable cause, he thought about making the two collars at once. This would be the crowning achievement of his career and would guarantee nothing but prime assignments in his future.

He told Ibarra, "Call the local police for back up. We're going to pick up Thibodeaux. Kidnapping is still a felony whether Ortega reported it, or not."

"Are you going to pick up Ortega too?" Ibarra knew they didn't have any current charges on the Columbian, but it wouldn't be the first time that someone was apprehended on a gut instinct.

"You bet. We're going to grab both of them. Warn the locals that Ortega is bound to have some muscle with him."

Laying there, waiting for the clock to move faster, was doing nothing but increasing my anxiety. I thought about having a drink to calm me down, but one might have led to a few and this was a time when I needed to be stone, cold sober.

Finally, fifteen minutes before the scheduled meeting time, I called Josie's cell phone. She told me, "I got a room right next to the rear entrance of the hotel and I've got a limousine standing by in case we need to get out of here in a hurry."

I was glad to hear that she had contingencies in place. "Good idea. I think everything's going to be fine, but we want to keep this phone line open between us."

"Got it. How soon are you leaving?"

"Right now. I want to be sure I'm in place when he shows."

"Break a leg, Tibby."

Explaining that I'd be leaving very early in the morning, I stopped by the front desk to settle up for the room. I then returned to my room and left via a rear entrance for the short walk to the Bay View Resort.

The spacious lobby in the Bay View was decked out in white colonial wood and orange and white striped wall paper with two sitting rooms off the main lobby. I was glad to see there weren't any other customers around and both sitting rooms were empty. I walked into the room to the right of the main lobby and settled into a floral sofa that fit well with the rest of the turn of the century decor. The sofa was comfortable; I wasn't.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Special Agent Davis and ICE Agent Ibarra landed one hour after the phone call. They met with the local police at Sangster Airport and arranged for a guard to be stationed by Thibodeaux's Conquest. With three police officers assisting them, Davis and Ibarra left for the Windward Shores Inn where their subject had registered.

On the ride Davis laid out the game plan. "Thibodeaux and Ortega will be watching for a law enforcement presence. Officer Lambert, you're going to be stationed in the lobby."

Peggy Lambert nodded. She was dressed as an airline pilot for one of the commuter airlines that served the island. The theory was, she could hang around the hotel lobby, as if she was waiting for transportation to the airport, without raising anyone's suspicion.

Davis continued, "Because of the child's presence I want everyone involved to exercise caution when apprehending these two. When we grab them, give the child to Officer Lambert." He told her, "As soon as you have the child call for a department matron to come and take custody of the girl."

With the best laid plans, the contingent of law enforcement arrived at the Windward Shores about three minutes after Tibby left. When Davis asked the desk clerk about him, he was told that he'd paid for his room but hadn't been in the lobby since then. Davis then asked to see the manager.

Davis told him, "There is going to a meeting to pay the ransom for a kidnapping. We think it's taking place in Gabriel Thibodeaux's room. I'd like two men, disguised as a handymen, to be stationed close to the room."

The manager agreed and called his maintenance department to arrange for uniforms for the policemen.

Jiang Leong took the phone call at his home near Driftwood Village on the north shore of Grand Cayman. Burton Blass of the FBI's Albuquerque office told him to use a public phone and call him back. Jiang drove to the nearest shopping area where he'd used the public phones on several occasions.

Blass said, "Informants of the bureau have sighted Roberto Ortega in Montego Bay. They think he's there to meet with a guy named Gabriel Thibodeaux. They also think Thibodeaux is the guy who kidnapped Ortega's daughter and that the meeting is to return the girl for the payment of ransom. The agents working the case are going to allow the meeting to take place, then they're going to pick up Thibodeaux during the exchange. I don't know if they're going to pick up Ortega, but considering his past criminal activities, I would say the chances are good that they'll grab him too."

"How solid is your information?"

"It came right off a recent field report."

Jiang welcomed the information because this was a chance for him to help Ortega, thereby putting himself in the Colombian's good graces. He had one more question for Blass, then he was going to call Roberto and warn him about the impending sting.

"Do you know when this meeting is going to take place?"

"No, that wasn't mentioned. You can bet that they're not going to be waiting around though. They'll want to get his over with as soon as possible."

Jiang agreed with that. He also thought about the type of person who would kidnap the daughter of a vicious drug lord. The guy either had a death wish, or a big set of brass balls. "O.K., thank you. I'll send your payment to the usual place."

Click.

Next Jiang dialed Roberto Ortega's cell phone, hoping his warning about the FBI sting would be received in time.

Darnell Cooper hadn't flown a King Air in several years, but he wasn't about to let that stop him. Once they were seated in the cockpit, Lou Pike noticed his hesitation at the controls. He asked, "Are you sure you know how to fly this thing?"

Cooper shot him a disgusted glance, then handed him a check list. "Read this to me."

Pike started, "Right ignition."

"On."

"Right Fuel Pressure."

With only two items completed on the checklist, Cooper looked outside to see his worst nightmare. A black sedan sped across the ramp of Marsh Harbor's Airport and pulled up in front of the stolen King Air. From past experience he knew when the law wanted to apprehend an aircraft they always blocked the plane with their car and then boarded. Two men got out of the car, holding badges high and walked toward the door of the stolen King Air.

If Cooper was apprehended again, for anything, he'd be going away for life. He wasn't going down easy. He thought he might have enough room to turn the plane and taxi past the car to the runway. He yelled at Pike, "I'm not going back to prison, keep reading!"

With the cops pounding on the door, Lou Pike read through the checklist far enough so Cooper could start one engine. That gave him enough power to taxi and he could start the other engine on the way to the runway. He locked a brake, thereby turning the King Air as far to the right as possible. The plane slowly turned until the left wing impacted the car, smashing a side window and putting a foot long gash in the roof.

"God damn it!" Copper braked to a stop, but his effort to escape wasn't over by a long shot. He looked at the damage to his wing. It wasn't bad enough to keep him from flying. He increased power again and inched slowly forward while watching his wing-tip to make sure he didn't compound the damage. Once clear of the car he began starting number two engine and increased his taxi speed.

When it became apparent that the pilot wasn't going to surrender, the two law men ran to the front of the King Air with guns drawn. Cooper saw them screaming something he couldn't hear and continued to taxi forward.

The first round blasted through the windshield and hit Lou Pike in his beefy right shoulder. "Son of a bitch, I'm hit!"

Cooper ignored him and increased power. As the King Air moved forward three rounds shattered his side window, one of them grazing his left jaw. Another hit Pike in the temple bringing his criminal career to a violent end and silencing him forever. He slumped forward onto the control yoke.

Dazed and bleeding but coherent, Cooper reached over and pulled the dead hulk of a man off the wheel as he continued toward the runway. More rounds impacted the aircraft engines but none hit Cooper. Ignoring the gauges that indicated he was losing power on both engines Cooper turned onto the runway and pushed the throttle forward.

The King Air accelerated sluggishly down the runway, never reaching the airspeed necessary to lift the plane off the ground. It was too late when Darnell Copper noticed the reduced engine RPM. Going not much faster than the highway speed limit, the twin engine aircraft rolled off the end off the runway, then bounced across a hundred feet of sand. Just before it reached the water the King Air's left wing smashed into a large boulder, fracturing the wing and busting open the interior fuel tank.

Highly volatile aviation fuel spewed onto the sand and sprayed through the air. The engine's hot exhaust ignited the spray of fuel first. Then the remainder of the gas caught and the spinning propellers whipped the flames into a raging inferno that engulfed the cockpit.

Moving on momentum, the ball of fire that had once been an expensive corporate aircraft, slid down the sandy beach and plowed into the water, raising a cloud of smoke as the fire was extinguished, too late for Darnell Cooper. He'd succumbed immediately to the acrid smoke that filled the cockpit and never even released his seat belt. By the time the emergency vehicles reached the scene, he'd been in ten feet of water slumped over the controls for as many minutes.

It took airport fire personnel five minutes to don their scuba gear and reach the submerged cockpit. Moments later they surfaced and passed along the news that both occupants of the plane were deceased.

The fire Captain's only concern: "How the hell do we get that thing out of there?"
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Roberto called the number that Cooper had called from. Hearing no answer and disgusted, he left the restaurant and headed for the hotel. He hoped just once things would go his way and he could retrieve their daughter and get off the island as soon as possible. He entered via a rear door and was walking down a hallway to the lobby when his cell phone rang.

To his surprise he heard Jiang's voice and he sounded desperate, "Roberto, are you at Montego Bay?"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

"I have some information that came from a trusted informant. If you are planning on meeting someone, to arrange the return of your daughter, it's a set-up. The FBI is watching your hotel and they know about the meeting. You'd better get out while you can."

"Thank you, Jiang."

Roberto had been clean for a number of years, but the presence of the FBI and its world-wide power still caused him concern. Among other crimes, he and Willy had eliminated several of their competitors, some of them Americans. Then he thought about Willy's accident. He didn't think his trusted body guard of many years had talked, but realized it was a possibility. His right hand man hadn't known about the meeting with Thibodeaux, so there was no way he could have talked about that. However, he certainly knew about all of the skeletons in his an Roberto's closet and that was the information that the FBI would act upon.

Roberto's thoughts turned to Esmeralda. If he got her back, but was apprehended in the process, he'd be sent back to Colombia where he might have to stand trial for a multitude of crimes. In essence, getting his child back, might mean he'd be put away for life and may never see her again, except for occasional visits. She'd grow up without a father and he'd live his life without the joy of raising a daughter.

He stopped in the doorway to the lobby. A man who fit the description of the one he was looking for, was sitting in a room off the main lobby. The man looked visibly nervous, as if he was waiting for something to happen.

Roberto didn't see Esmeralda. This sent his suspicion soaring off the charts. He knew the scenario, he'd walk in and sit down. The guy would promise that his daughter was going to be there shortly. The next thing he'd see would be law enforcement personnel coming out of the walls. His innate sense of survival told him to abort the meeting because clearly the purpose of the meet hadn't been to return his child.

I was sweating in the air conditioning when I saw a tall Hispanic man walk out of a hallway on the far side of the lobby. I knew at once that had to be the elusive Roberto Ortega. A former drug kingpin wears a 'take no prisoners' demeanor like no one else. Without uttering a word, his dominant bearing alone could dare anyone to cross him.

The man stopped to answer his cell phone. As he listened, he looked around the lobby. He saw me, alone in the sitting room. I immediately felt like I wasn't the person who'd taken care of his daughter and was now returning her to him in good health. I was instead the person who had caused him an intolerable problem. I read contempt all over his face.

As he listened to the call, his eyes narrowed and I felt his stare burning into me like a red hot poker. I didn't know whether to go greet him or sit tight, waiting for him to come to me. Although I felt trapped and needed to move, I sat riveted to the sofa.

We stared at each other for ten seconds; it felt like a week.

He took the phone away from his ear.

From a distance I could tell he was livid about something.

He took one step, then stopped and pointed at me. He bellowed, "You lying traitor! You'll die for this."

I held up my hands in innocent disbelief. I started to call his name to tell him that whatever he heard was misleading. I had the best intentions of returning his daughter safely to him. Without another word, he turned, walked briskly down a hallway.

I didn't know exactly what had transpired but I was certain that the worst scenario possible had just come to fruition. I took out my phone and called Josie. "Something just happened down here and it's not good. Ortega showed up, but then he got a phone call. He told me I was going to die, then he bolted. Take Essie and get out of here in the Cheyenne."

I headed out the front door.

Josie asked, "Where to?"

All of a sudden I couldn't think of an island name to save my hide. I wanted somewhere close. Cuba came to mind, except Fidel wouldn't warm up to us any more than Roberto had. "Head for Grand Cayman. I'll meet you at the airport."

"Got it. We're out of here."

"And Josie?"

"Yeah."

"We might have to turn Essie over to the authorities."

"We'll talk about it."

"Honey, we've got to leave." Josie began throwing the game they'd been playing into a bag. "Do you have to go to the bathroom?"

While standing by the window and pointing outside, the girl called out excitedly, "Mi padre."

Josie ran to the window and saw a taxi cab pulling out of the parking lot for the nearby neighboring resort. She asked, "Did your daddy get into that car?"

Essie turned to her and nodded.

"Come on, honey. We'll see if we can catch him." She picked up the few things they'd brought into the room and took Essie's hand. Together they headed for the rear parking lot.

Josie and Essie climbed into the limousine that she had standing by in case they had to make a quick getaway. "Follow that cab that just pulled out of the parking area next door."

The young driver turned around. "There were two cabs that just left, ma'am."

She knew Ortega would want to get off the island as quickly as possible. "Head for the airport and step on it."

Josie called Tibby. "Essie saw her daddy get into a cab and leave the hotel. We're headed for the airport and I'm going to try to catch him before he takes off."

Could we possibly repair what had just been unraveled? We had to try. "Why don't we do this. You follow Ortega and try to catch him and return Essie. I'll follow you, unless the FBI is waiting for me. If they are, I'll lead them somewhere else, so they can't interfere again."

"Sounds good. I'll keep you posted."
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Because of the possibility of a tail I hadn't left anything in my room at the Windward Shores Inn. From the front of the Bay View Resort I flagged a cab. "Sangster and step on it. I'm running late to meet a plane."

I cannot remember ever feeling as disappointed and upset as I did on that ten minute ride to the airport. Not only had we failed to return Essie to her father, he was now convinced that I was working with the authorities to arrest him. This would certainly complicate further efforts to reunite father and daughter.

In an effort to figure out what had transpired, I replayed the recent past. Someone had called Ortega and told him something that upset him enough that he left before finding out if I was returning his daughter. Someone had to have warned him about the possible presence of law enforcement personnel, but who? Because I hadn't seen any signs of the FBI, I wasn't even sure they had tailed me to Jamaica. It wouldn't have surprised me to see them at Swordfish Cay, but after I left there, no one except Ortega knew I was heading for Jamaica. Then I remembered the flight plan I'd filed. Anyone could have checked on that but it still didn't tell me what I wanted to know.

Obviously, Roberto had his informants and snitches all over the place, keeping him updated on information that would interest him, but how could he have known that the FBI was lurking? The only possibility I could see was the FBI must have been following Roberto and when they found out he was on Jamaica, they put the word out that they were going there to tail him. When they found out both of us were there, they decided to follow or pick up one or both of us. Then, someone in Roberto's camp found this out and notified him. The only way they could have known this was if someone in the FBI was leaking information. So it was through an FBI snitch that someone found out their plans and tipped off Roberto.

As this debacle became more and more complex, I thought about our primary objective of reuniting Essie with her family. For Josie to do it, might be our best bet. Ortega wouldn't be expecting her and his guard might be somewhat relaxed. If they could make a random connection, he wouldn't be worried about a set up. All he had to do was take his child and leave. Then I wondered why the simple act of returning a child to her father had turned out to be so difficult?

The woman dressed as an airline pilot had been waiting in the lobby of the Windward Shores Resort for half an hour. A few of the cops had been waiting in a coffee shop off the lobby when one of the police officers stationed near the rear entrance saw Josie and the girl leave the Bay View Resort via the limo.

A local officer had the presence to call the front desk of the Bay View Resort and was told that a man fitting Thibodeaux's description had been in the lobby, then left in a cab. The officer told Davis, "Thibodeaux was at the Bay View but left about five minutes ago in a cab."

"He's headed for the airport." Davis told Ibarra, "Call the guy guarding his plane and tell him that he's on his way and I want him to hold him until we get there." The entire contingent then left in a police van for the airport.

I was half way to Sangster Airport when Josie called. "Ortega got on an Aero Commander that was waiting for him with the engines running. The plane took off moments later. I'm going to tail it. I'll let you know where we end up."

"Good luck, and Josie. There's a chance that you're not the only one hearing my cell phone transmissions. I'll explain where we meet up."

"I understand. Right now, I've got a plane to catch."

I arrived at the airport and walked through the small general aviation terminal. Just before going out the door, I saw a police officer standing near my plane on the ramp. I stopped short of the door and turned around to check the room out.

I didn't see anyone else so the guy by my plane was the only one I had to get rid of. I was trying to come up with a ruse to divert him from my plane, when I saw a woman in an airline pilot's uniform walk in the door. A short pudgy man with thinning hair, whom I was sure carried a badge, came in behind her.

The short guy held out his shield and said, "Gabriel Thibodeaux, I'm Special Agent Davis with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd like to talk to you."

They had me. Now the only question was, how much did they think they had on me and what were they going to do with me. I figured I was at least in for a prolonged conversation.

I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Josie. When she answered, I said, "Some people with badges want to talk to me, so I'm going to be delayed."

"Got it." She replied with a decoy in case anyone was listening. "I'm fifteen miles south on Highway B8. We're in trail of the green van, just passing Cayman Boulevard."

She was airborne and from the mention of the name, she was probably heading for the Caymans. That's all I wanted to know. Nobody knew where she was going, so they'd be safe until I could distance myself from these bozos.

Davis asked me, "Mr. Thibodeaux, would you mind accompanying us down to the local police station?"

His question told me that they didn't have enough on me to arrest me, but it also told me they wanted to get me on their turf where strange things could happen to an unsuspecting, innocent person such as myself.

I countered, "I'll be glad to answer all of your questions, right here."

Catherine Wilder poured herself two fingers of twelve year old scotch, downed it and poured again. As it went down the liquor burned off some of her fury, but didn't erase all of it. The bestselling author had just returned home from a writer's conference in Raleigh-Durham and her mood was volcanic.

Normally, she enjoyed these conferences because they were a break from writing and gave her a rare chance to interact with other writers, whether it was bitching about reserves against returns, a book that had been released three months late, or publisher's promotional promises that hadn't been kept.

On this trip she'd spent most of the time by herself. After having to fly on a commercial airline and put up with the indignity of the security measures, she just didn't feel like listening to anyone else's petty problems.

"Helen!" She'd called her part time secretary from the airport but hadn't received an answer either on the cell phone or house phone. Her car was outside so she had to be here.

"Yes, ma'am, coming."

"I called your cell phone, where the hell have you been?"

As usual, Helen answered in an even tone because she'd learned early on that to show a reaction to her boss's ire, served only to incite more of it. "My five year old threw my cell phone in the toilet this morning and I haven't had a chance to get a new one yet. I'll get one this afternoon when I go to the grocery store."

"Have you heard anything about my plane?"

"No, ma-am. I last talked to Josie on Thursday and they hadn't found it yet. I didn't call back because she assured me that she'd let me know as soon as they located the plane."

The red head waved her glass of scotch through the air until a few drops spilled onto the carpet. "Jesus Christ, woman, you have to stay on top of these people or they'll take their own sweet time. Call her...no wait, I'll do it. You're too nice to them. I'll get some results."

Ignoring the barb, Helen answered, "OK. I'm leaving for the store. I left a couple of speaking requests on your desk."

"Whatever."

As Helen walked out she wondered why anyone with an ounce of wisdom would want to listen to that woman speak.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Davis looked at his partner to see how he felt about having the conversation here. The guy's blank stare didn't give him much help. He turned back to me and said, "OK, have a seat."

I sat down hoping the next few minutes would answer some of my questions without proving to be a self indictment for any number of crimes. I also thought of the possibility that if I kept these guys busy Josie would have more time to catch Ortega and return Essie.

Davis opened with, "Do you have Roberto Ortega's daughter in your custody?"

"No." I was splitting hairs, but Essie was with Josie, not me.

"Who was the child you had with you on Swordfish Cay?"

No dodging this one. "That was Esmeralda Ortega."

When he didn't say anything, I figured he was coming to the obvious conclusion.

In an effort to perpetuate my innocent status, I explained, "She wasn't kidnapped. Here is what happened." Then I told the entire story from recovering the Cheyenne to the meeting. I didn't, however, mention the money because I was sure he'd frown upon me carrying around three quarters of a million clams without once mentioning it to customs.

Davis wanted to shoot me right there on the spot. In his profession, he must get sick of it. Everyone he talks to is innocent; no one has done anything wrong. Everyone has a story which, however absurd, exonerates them of any wrong doing. Now I had given him one of the most ridiculous tales he'd ever heard. I couldn't really blame him for wanting to do me harm.

Also he wasn't pleased about Roberto hitting the air. He turned to the local police and shouted, "Did you have someone covering the rear of The Bay View Resort?"

"No, we were covering the Windward Shores 'cause you said that's where the meeting was taking place."

"Son of a bitch! We lost Ortega. Call your men and tell them that he's probably at the airport. If they see him, I want him picked up."

The cop looked like he felt sorry for Special Agent Davis. "Yes sir, but we only have one more man here and he's in the passenger terminal."

Davis turned to me, composed himself and said, "There is the issue of some counterfeit passports."

"What do you mean?" I reached into my flight bag, pulled out my well-used passport and handed it to him. "As you can see mine is not new and if you'd like to have someone from customs inspect it, that's fine with me."

"Your partner high-tailed it out of the Bay View with the girl. I'm sure if anyone has the phony passport it will be with her."

My worry was that Davis didn't want to walk away from this without an arrest. He'd lost Ortega, so there was only one fish left in the lake.

There was only one way to find out if I was walking out of here with or without handcuffs. I said, "Well, here's what happened. I tried to meet Ortega and it didn't work out. You have no proof that a crime has been committed, so you have nothing to charge me with. I'm leaving."

"What are you going to do with the child?" His question indicated a change of tactics and I noticed he wasn't reaching for his cuffs.

For some reason I found it hard to tell Davis that I was going to turn Esmeralda over to his crew so they could arrange for her to be returned to her family. Right now Essie was with people she enjoyed and she was being treated very well. I didn't think she'd get the same treatment with the FBI and I was still worried that the child would be used as a tool. In spite of what I had told Josie, I fabricated my answer on the fly. "I'm going to contact Roberto and explain that your presence here today was not of my doing. Then I'm going to arrange to return his daughter to him, again."

I stood up and said, "Give me one of your business cards."

He hesitated, then took one out and handed it to me.

I said, "If we decide that you can help us to return Esmeralda to her family, I'll call you. However, I'm not letting you in on it if it means sending her father away for life."

David fired back, "You mean you're protecting a lifelong criminal?" His question told me that they didn't have any current charges on Roberto Ortega; it also emboldened me.

"He was a criminal. Now he's a father. I'm protecting Essie's father."

I walked out the door feeling better than I had in a long time. One of the cops was still standing by the Conquest. I said, "Special Agent Davis gave me his permission to leave. He's right inside if you want to ask him."

He didn't say anything as I opened the door, threw my bags in and climbed in the left seat. Before closing the door, I yelled, "Hey, thanks for watching my airplane. There's a lot of aircraft being stolen these days. You did a fine job of guarding it."

He found no humor in that at all.

I looked around for the FBI's plane. Normally they fly King Airs and I only saw one parked on the ramp. If they were going to tail me, I wanted to make it easy for them, so I could lead them somewhere that would keep them away from Josie. I took my time starting the engines.

My engines were turning and I dug out my chart, then set my radio frequencies. No one came out to the King Air. The appearance was, I'd have no company this trip. However, appearances can be deceiving.

I taxied to the active runway and decided to watch from aloft to see if anyone tailed me. The problem I had was, I couldn't lie to the control tower, so if anyone was monitoring the frequency, they'd be onto my scam.

I called the tower, "Sangster Tower, this is Conquest Four-Four Charlie-Charlie, ready to depart on Runway Nine. I'm just doing an engine test, so I'll be remaining in the local area."

"Conquest Four-Four Charlie-Charlie, Sangster Tower, wind one-one-zero at eight, Runway Nine, cleared for take-off."

I lifted off and continued east bound for about fifteen miles, while climbing to eighty-five hundred feet. I then reversed course, flew back over the airport and set up a holding pattern, where I was clear of traffic but could monitor the tower frequency and watch the aircraft depart.

For the next thirty minutes I saw four air carriers and two air taxies depart, but no aircraft that could be used to tail me, unless the feds had chartered an Air Jamaican Air Bus to follow me. If that was the case, I was going to raise hell about how they were spending my tax dollars.

I called the tower, "Sangster Tower, this is Conquest Four Charlie-Charlie, our engines look fine, so we'll be departing to the west. So long."

"Conquest Four Charlie-Charlie, Sangster, roger. No reported traffic, frequency change approved."

I turned toward Grand Cayman and climbed to sixteen-thousand, five-hundred. I was relieved that I wouldn't be bringing anyone with me to join Josie, but I was also puzzled why Special Agent Davis would talk to me, then give up on me. I knew beyond a doubt that he wasn't convinced of my innocence and he probably saw me as a means to collar Roberto Ortega. Well, for now all I was going to worry about was getting Essie returned to her family.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

After Thibodeaux left, Special Agent Phil Davis hurried to a building adjacent to the passenger terminal. This was the home of the terminal radar approach control that housed the air traffic control radar serving Jamaica and the surrounding airspace.

He walked into a dark room where six radar scopes gave off an eerie green glow and the hushed voices of the radar controllers filled the otherwise quiet room.

Davis showed his badge to a portly Jamaican who spoke without the normal Jamaican accent or speech peculiarities. He said, "Come over here, Agent Davis. This is a spare radar scope that's not in use right now and I've been watching the Conquest that you called about. He told the tower that he wanted to stay in the area to do some engine tests. He took off and orbited over the airport for about twenty minutes. Then he departed to the west."

"What is west of here?"

"The Cayman Islands is the next island chain. Grand Cayman is about two hundred miles west of here. After that it's the Yucatan Peninsula."

Davis spoke into a tactical radio. "I'll be right out. Tell Murtaugh to plan on departing as soon as I get there and follow the surveillance plan as briefed." He thanked the ATC supervisor then left the room.

In a Lear Jet that was sitting on the airport ramp with its engines running, Customs Agent Manuel Ibarra told the pilot, "Davis is on his way. Plan on departing as soon as he gets here. Once you're airborne contact departure control on one-two-four point eight."

Vic Murtaugh, the Lear pilot said, "I got it."

As soon as Special Agent Davis boarded, the Lear the taxied to the active runway; one minute later it was airborne. Once Murtaugh changed to the assigned frequency, he was told, "Lear Six Papa Kilo, Sangster Departure Control, radar contact. Fly heading two-eight-zero, climb and maintain one-six thousand. The Conquest is twelve o'clock, eighty-seven miles, level at one-six-thousand, five-hundred."

Murtaugh answered, "Sangster Departure, Lear Six Papa Kilo, roger. I'm heading two eight zero, climbing to one-six-thousand. Do you have a ground speed read-out on the Conquest?"

"Lear Six Papa Kilo, Sangster Departure, affirmative. The Conquest is showing two hundred and ninety knots across the ground. I'll advise when you're ten miles in trail so you can adjust your speed accordingly to stay behind him."

"Lear Six Papa Kilo, roger."

Down in the darkened room, one of the local police told the supervisor. "I appreciate your help. We couldn't have pulled off a covert tail on that guy's Conquest without it."

"What did this guy do?"

"The FBI thinks he's involved in an abduction of a seven year old girl."

"That's heavy stuff. I hope the bastard gets the chair."

Josie watched the Aero Commander carrying Roberto Ortega enter the downwind leg of the traffic pattern a couple miles ahead of her. She increased her airspeed slightly so she'd close on the Aero Commander. Then her worst fears came true. The Aero Commander turned onto his final approach less than a mile from the airport. When he did so, the control tower told her, "Cheyenne Seven Papa-Yankee, Cayman Tower, you're number three for the airport following an American Seven-Thirty-Seven on a four mile final."

If she extended her pattern to follow the American airliner, she'd probably lose Roberto. She looked at the spacing and replied, "Tower, this is Cheyenne Seven Papa-Yankee, I can make a close approach and land in front of that airliner with no problem."

The tower wouldn't hear of it. "Cheyenne Seven Papa Yankee, Cayman Tower, unable close approach due to departure traffic. Follow the Boeing on final."

Josie touched down six minutes later and parked next to the Aero Commander. The doors were closed and no one was around the aircraft. She told Essie, "Wait right here, Essie. I'll be right back."

Josie ran to the entrance to the customs area and looked for Ortega. Through the window she saw him in the front of the building getting into a limousine. A second later the car sped away.

Knowing he was gone and would be hard to find, she returned to the Cheyenne and told Essie, "I think we lost your daddy, honey. He left the airport and I have no idea where he went."

Essie quit coloring for a moment and looked at her with every ounce of hope in her young heart. "Don't worry, Josie. You can find him, I know you can."

Josie dialed Tibby's phone. "Are you headed where I think you are?"

"Affirmative, I'm about thirty miles east."

"We'll be waiting for you on the parking ramp."

When it was apparent that Thibodeaux was heading for Grand Cayman, Special Agent Davis had a hunch that he was bound for the island because that's where Ortega was headed. This was like a reprieve for the FBI agent because he'd have them both on the same turf again, thereby increasing his chances that they'd commit a criminal act that would give him solid probable cause to pick up everyone involved.

With that in mind, he decided to take steps so they weren't stopped going through customs. He told Ibarra, "Call your people at the airport customs office and tell them not to detain up any of the people in question. Allow them to clear customs, then let us know when they did. Call the local police and have them follow Thibodeaux after he clears customs."

"OK, I'll tell them to set up a revolving tail on them."

Roberto Ortega's pilot had radioed ahead to have a limousine waiting. As soon as Ortega's aircraft landed and parked, the tall Colombian cleared customs, then hopped into the limo and drove off.

On the flight over, Roberto had already decided that it was time to pull out all stops. He was convinced that unless the FBI had conclusive proof of his implication in a murder, they were grabbing at straws and their efforts were only based on his former activities. He planned on staying one step ahead of the FBI so he could deal, by his own means, with the man who still had Esmeralda. To do this he was going to reiterate to all his contacts that the reward money was still being offered and he would increase it to two million if whoever found his daughter killed the American.

One of the first people he wanted to talk to was Jiang Leong. The Oriental obviously had contacts who could help him track down the man who held his daughter and had tried to set him up in Jamaica.

He called from the limo. "Jiang, this is Roberto. I'm on Grand Cayman and it's important that I talk to you if you have time."

From the desperation in Ortega's voice, Jiang Leong knew at once that Roberto was still dealing with his daughter's disappearance. He was a little surprised that the Colombian had called him, but he was also pleased. This would give him a chance to lend his assistance to Roberto, thereby putting the man in his debt. He knew men like Ortega held personal honor in high esteem. Once someone helped them out, especially with a disturbing problem that involved something as dear to him as his own child, they felt themselves to be indebted for life. He planned on using this to his advantage.

Jiang said, "Roberto, I'm glad you called me. I can meet with you at once. There is a restaurant in West Bay on Shoreview Point named The Rusty Scupper. I can meet you there in twenty minutes and I'll have a private room. Is that OK?"

Ortega asked the driver, "Can we be in West Bay in twenty minutes?"

"We'll be there in fifteen, sir."

"I'll see you in twenty minutes, Jiang."
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

I landed and parked next to the Cheyenne. When I stuck my head in the door, Essie told me, "We saw my papa, but he drove away. Josie is going to find him."

I hoped her words were prophetic. Josie asked, "Since everyone is concerned about you and your activities, do you think we have a chance of making it through customs?"

"I do. If they were going to pick me up, they would have done it back on Jamaica. I think we'll clear customs all right, but I also think that our presence will be noted and passed on to people in the bureau such as Special Agent Davis."

As I said this, I noticed the Lear Jet that had landed behind me turning into the parking area. One the flight over I had heard only two other aircraft talking to air traffic control on the radio; one was a twin Cessna and the other was an Inter Island Sky Van. Even if the Lear had come from the other direction, I should have heard him contact the tower, unless he was on a discreet frequency — like they used when they were tailing someone and didn't want their subject to know they were there.

I told Josie, "I think the FBI just landed."

She looked toward the end of the parking ramp. "In the Lear?"

"Ten-four, good buddy."

"We still have to find Roberto. Do you think they want you to lead them to him?"

"Yep. They want me to do their job for them and they're not even paying me."

A devious grin, "Do you think they know about me?"

"There's a chance they do, but it's me they're interested in."

Josie and I stared at each other while we thought over our strategy. Finally she said, "Why don't you two go clear customs and I'll see who follows you."

"Come on, Essie." I held out my arms and she let me pick her up. "Let's go find a place to stay, then we'll find your daddy."

She looked back, worried about leaving her friend. "What about Josie?"

"I'll be there in a few minutes, honey."

Essie and I cleared customs with no problems and took a seat in front of the terminal. I told Essie, "We've got to wait here for a few minutes, but when Josie walks by don't say anything to her, O.K.?" She looked at me with a conspiratorial glance and nodded.

Josie waited for ten minutes. No one deplaned from the Lear. This told her either the people in the Lear weren't FBI or they already had someone waiting to tail them after they cleared customs. She went through customs a few minutes later, then walked directly to a van that had Surfside Manor plastered all over it.

I took Essie's hand and said, "You did real good. Now we're going to take a cab and meet Josie at the hotel."

"Tibby, I'm hungry."

"I am too, honey. We'll get something as soon as we get to the hotel."

Special Agent Davis wasn't pleased. With Thibodeaux and Ortega going to Grand Cayman, his theory about Thibodeaux having already collected the ransom money was shot full of holes. He told Ibarra, "Roberto Ortega clears customs. Fifteen minutes later, Thibodeaux and Esmeralda Ortega clear customs. It's like they had planned to meet there all along. Do you think the meeting at Jamaica was just a decoy?"

The Customs officer spoke tentatively, "I don't think so. I think the meeting here was aborted because of our presence. I think Grand Cayman was a predetermined alternative location."

Davis said, "Thibodeaux and the girl got in a cab. Thibodeaux's lady friend got on a van for the Surfside Manor. I want one of you at the front and one at the rear of that hotel. We're going to tail them, but it's imperative that we remain invisible, so if there is another meeting, it can take place."

Josie called me to let me know which room she was in. I took Essie to the room and we ordered room service. Then I decided to make some phone calls.

First I called Margaret. In her raspy voice she got right to the point. "Jesus Christ, boss. Where are you? I've been worried sick. I wanted to call your cell phone, but I was afraid that you might be meeting with that drug lord or some other low life who'd knock you off just for answering your phone."

"Margaret, we're fine. We're on Grand Cayman. Are you staying busy?"

"Staying busy, I'm working on your taxes and it doesn't look good. I think the IRS is going to kick your ass this year, boss."

I was thinking about how glad I was that I called, when she continued, "Cayman? That's where all the people live who launder money for the cartels. What are you into now?"

"We're not into anything, and there are some people who live here that don't launder money. We're looking for Essie's father."

"You mean she's still with you? Why haven't you taken her back to her family? What happened, boss?"

I told Margaret the entire story about the meeting gone awry. She didn't care for me getting on the wrong side of the FBI. "Hell's bells, boss, by the time this is all over, I'm going to have to find a second job to pay for your defense lawyers."

"Margaret, if they wanted to pick me up, they would have done so by now. I think they're only tailing me now because they want me to lead them to Ortega."

"You know, you were a lot more fun to work for when you were playing the horses and getting drunk every night."

"Thanks, Margaret. I'll let you go so you can get back to my taxes."

"I'm leaving in five minutes, boss. There's a three year old named Major Rogers who is running at Turf Paradise and going off at twelve to one. He's like money in the bank, boss."

"Well, that's good to hear. Considering the funds I'm going to need for the IRS and my legal defense, I might need a loan. Good-bye, Margaret."

Next I called Mad Dog Dellerman with the DEA. I hoped this call would be a little more pleasant than my talk with Margaret.

"Yo, Tibby. I was just thinking about you."

I didn't even want to know why I was in his thoughts. "Mad Dog, I'm on Grand Cayman. I'm trying to track down Roberto Ortega, who is also on the island. What I want to know is if there is anyone on this island who has been linked to him?"

"Yeah, there is someone who lives on Grand Cayman, is tight with Ortega and he'd probably like nothing better than to kill you on sight."

So much for pleasant thoughts.

Mad Dog had my undivided attention. "And who might this person be that wants to terminate my time on earth?"

"His name is Jiang Leong. He's the ram rod of the outfit that imports the phony pharmaceuticals from Europe to the U.S."

"He's the Shining Path, Green Pang dude?"

"He's one of them; we think he's the brains for this end of the operation."

"I thought you said he lived on Norman's Cay."

"I did but he's got more houses than you've got underwear. A guy like him has to stay on the move, because moving targets are harder to hit."

"Why would Mr. Leong wish me dead?"

"Well, first I've got to know something." Mad Dog paused, then spoke cautiously. "I've heard second hand talk that you have Ortega's daughter in your custody."

"I do, but I didn't abduct her. She was asleep in the aircraft we grabbed. I've been trying to return her to Ortega for five days. Have you ever tried to find an ex-drug lord? Tracking him has been next to impossible."

"He's got a house on Amberjack Cay."

"I know, I've been there. This house doesn't do me any good if no one is home. Tell me about Leong and his vendetta against me." I had a hunch of why Leong wanted to do me in, but I wanted to hear it from Mad Dog.

"Mr. Leong has been trying to bring Roberto Ortega into his business. He wants Ortega to handle his distribution conduit throughout all of South America. If he can take out the guy who snatched Ortega's daughter, he'll have Roberto kissing his feet for life."

I couldn't envision Roberto Ortega kissing anything on anybody, let alone their feet. "Your guys have been watching Leong for a while. How close are you to taking him down?"

If Mad Dog would've told me that this would be taking place the next morning, that would have been just fine with me. He didn't. "I'm not sure. The last I heard was our headquarters wants to make some busts on the European end as well as in this country. Getting enough evidence on the scope of their operation, so it stands up in court could take months."

"You guys are no help at all."

"You want help; I'll give you help. Get off the island. You're walking right into Leong's home turf. You should at least go somewhere where he has to travel to turn your switch off." I missed the humor in this.

"Yeah, that would be a lot better, if he had to travel to do me in. Thanks, Dog."
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Josie was looking at me like she always does after hearing one side of a conversation. I said, "Everyone, including Margaret has deserted us or wants me dead. To my knowledge I've got the F.B.I., I.R.S., the author lady, Leong, Ortega and probably some other entire agency looking for me, because they have a problem with what I do or the way I do it."

Josie came over, wrapped her arms around my neck then pecked me on the cheek. "And you give me kisses on the cheek."

This time she planted one on the lips. My spirits soared; I became invincible.

Then her question brought me back to earth. "Do you think this Leong guy is actively looking for you?"

"No." I said it like I had convinced myself, but I hadn't. "He'd like to take me out when it's convenient and for his own benefit, but considering that we just got here, I don't see how he could even know I'm on the stinking island."

"This is the type of guy who would want to know about anyone who comes onto his island. It would not be unusual for him to have a customs inspector in his pocket."

Room service knocked on the door. I let the lady in, listened as she told us about heir wonderful kitchen, then tipped her. As all this went on, I thought about Josie's comment. Caution was the watchword.

Josie began helping Essie get settled so she could enjoy her chicken noodle soup and peanut butter and jelly sandwich while she watched her cartoons.

"Do you think we could use that to our advantage?" I remembered something about turning your opponents weaknesses into your strengths, or maybe it was visa versa. Regardless, it might work.

Josie thought out loud. "I think it's safe to assume that Ortega came here to see Leong. Do you agree?"

"So far."

"So if we find one of them, the other should be close by."

I uncovered a fabulous shrimp salad that would easily feed Josie and I. "Go on."

"Did Mad Dog ever mention the name of Leong's counterfeit pharmaceutical business?"

"Not that I remember. Why?"

Josie gave me half of her egg salad sandwich, which gave her free rein to dig into the salad. "There's no way his house here is titled in is name. I might check tax records to see if his house is titled in the name of his business."

"So we find the house. Are we just going to go up and knock on the door?"

She shot me a glance before digging into the salad. While she ate, I thought about the visit to Amberjack Cay. Finding the house there was simple because it was the only house on a very small island. Grand Cayman wasn't as large as Australia, but it was large enough and populated enough that finding someone, especially some who didn't want to be found, would not be easy. I was really sick and tired of trying to find people who didn't want to be found.

Josie asked, "Do you remember how we found that guy in Oregon by complaining to the cable company that someone was illegally tapped into our subject's cable system?"

I remembered but didn't think it would work here. "I don't hardly think they have cable on an island that is only twenty-five miles long."

"No, but they've got garbage pick-up, telephone service, natural gas, electric company, some sort of television."

"O.K., which one?"

She pointed a fork at me. Pointing forks was the equivalent of, "Eureka!" She graced me with her revelation. "Swimming pool service."

"How do we know this guy has a pool? He's living on an island, which means he's surrounded by beaches."

"Because this isn't the type of guy who would want to go out in public and lay on the beach. I'm betting he has a pool."

Josie went to the night stand and found a local telephone book. She thumbed through it until, "There are two swimming pool services on the island. Ebanks Pool and Cayman Supreme Pool Service."

Most smaller Caribbean islands have one family that practically settled the island hundreds of years ago. In most cases the ancestors still hold sway on the island as de facto royalty. I remembered Ebanks as one of the family names on the Caymans. They would know everything worth knowing on the island.

I explained this to Josie, then said, "Thumb through the business section and see how many other businesses have the Ebanks name."

"Ebanks Beauty Supply, Ebanks Construction, Ebanks Electric, holy cow, Tibby, you rock."

She always sounded so surprised when I was right. "I think we can use them to find Leong, which should also find Ortega if he's still here."

"Since the FBI is on the island, waiting for you to make a move, I should be the one to visit the business, while you stay here with Essie."

She had a good point; I'd be babysitting. "Which business are you going to?"

"I still like the swimming pool service. I can go there under the pretense of changing the day of his pool service, but before I do you have to call Mad Dog and find out if he knows the name of Leong's business. He probably conducts all of his business under that name, rather than using his personal name."

I kind of liked the idea, although businesses on a small island, where everyone knows everyone else, aren't eager to give out information on their clients. However, I had confidence in Josie's acting ability and irresistible charm to get the information. Then once we found out where Leong lived, we had to decide how to approach him.

I dialed Mad Dog's number, then asked him if he knew the names of Leong's business. His answer wasn't encouraging.

"Do you remember what I said about him having several houses?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Well, he's got more businesses than houses. I'll read you off a few: Pyramid Sales, Red Star Enterprises, Otani Imports, Daixang Associates, Mainland Shipping and Green Light Trading Company. Those are the ones we know about."

I'd been scribbling down the names while he read them off. "Do you have any idea which one is used for the pharmaceutical smuggling?"

"Two of the shipments we tracked were addressed to Otani Imports. However, this guy is so slick, his people sometimes ship to existing businesses in the cities where he wants the merchandise to go. He then pays them a handling fee so the names of his companies never appears on the bill of lading or shipping invoice."

"Thanks, Mad Dog, you've been very helpful. Ah, one more question, the FBI was watching Norman's Cay for Leong to show up. Do they know about his house here?"

"I don't know. I've never heard of them conducting any surveillance on the Cayman's, so I doubt it."

"And your people never told them about this house."

"Why would we? What the hell have they ever done for me?" Ah, the mutual benevolence of government employees.

"So long, Dog, and thanks."

Josie looked at me with an eyebrow cocked.

I said, "Mad Dog said this Leong dude has more houses than I have underwear and more businesses than he has houses. He didn't tell me how much underwear Leong has, but I'm betting it's a bunch. Anyway, I've got a list of his business names, so you can see if any of those help in your search."

"Supposedly there are a lot of American tax dodgers and South American money launderers that live on Grand Cayman, right?"

"That's what I've heard and Margaret even mentioned that. Why?"

"If that's the case, the people on the island are probably very protective of their residents regardless of their legal status."

"I agree. You'll need to put on an Oscar winning performance when you visit the pool service."

"Hey, I've been rehearsing my lines."

I was about to respond to this when my phone rang. Because I had just talked to everyone else, I had a pretty good idea who it was.

"Hello, Ms. Wilder. How are you today?"

The tone of her voice told me she wasn't into niceties today. "Did you find my plane yet, and if not why not?"

I've had difficult clients in the past and my policy has always been to treat them with respect to a point. The level of their irascibility and my frame of mind determined where that point fell. The writer was getting close but I decided to stick with diplomacy, for now. "Ms. Wilder, finding a stolen aircraft has its complications. One of them is, the exterior registration numbers are often changed as soon as the plane is stolen. Once that happens, all we can go by is aircraft color, and we have no guarantee that the thieves didn't repaint the entire aircraft. In your case, there are many aircraft flying around that are the same color as yours. We are tracking two of them, but we have also been notified that the FBI is interested in one of them, so we can't grab that aircraft until we get the FBI's blessing. As soon as all of our stars are aligned, we'll recover your aircraft, but I can't say how soon that will be."

There was a good ten second silence on the line, until, "You know what I think?"

"No, Ms. Wilder, what do you think?"

"I think that's all a load of crap. I think you and your little girly are using my money to have a nice vacation in the Caribbean and you've made up this outrageous story about the FBI to give you some more time before you call me and tell me that you can't find my airplane."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

Josie put an arm around my shoulder and whispered, "Do you want me to talk to her?"

I shook my head. I wouldn't do that to Josie, or my worst enemy for that matter. Well, I might do it to Special Agent Davis.

"Ms. Wilder, I'm sorry but that's where we stand. If you want us to discontinue our efforts, just say the word."

"You're just lucky that there's no one else I can call, or you'd be fired right now."

I'd had it; she had reached that point. "Actually, Ms. Wilder, there is another aircraft recovery company. It's Nick and Tony's Screen Door, CB Radio and Aircraft Recovery Company in Poughkeepsie, New York."

The phone went dead.

Josie tried hard to keep from laughing. "You're terrible."

"Let's talk about your visit to the pool company."
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Roberto Ortega and Jiang Leong were seated on a rear patio of The Rusty Scupper. This was one of the few restaurants on the island that Jiang patronized because he had insured the availability of a private room with a hefty gratuity to the manager on his first visit.

Roberto had already explained what transpired at the Bay View Inn, both before and after he'd received Jiang's phone call. Now he was seeking the man's opinion about his future course of action. "Jiang, I am troubled about my daughter and the prospects of getting her back without getting picked up myself. I had hoped I was dealing with a man of integrity, but I can see now that the American was only a pawn of the authorities, who probably cut a deal with them to reduce his jail time if he could deliver me under the ruse of returning my child."

"Who is this American? How did he get your daughter?"

"He uses the name Thibodeaux. His cover is, he recovers stolen aircraft, which gives him a plausible reason for traveling to many different countries in different aircraft. I think he originally landed on Amberjack Cay as a part of a plan carried out by the American FBI.

"Their intention was for him to find contraband in our aircraft. The woman with him pretended to be lost, which gave him time to search my aircraft. If he found something he had a perfect cover to take my aircraft. By using a civilian to land and search my aircraft, the authorities would have plausible deniability and wouldn't have to tip their hand. If we would have questioned him at the house, he could claim that he was recovering the plane for a client. When he found the large amounts of cash, he just took the aircraft so he would have the evidence. I don't think he knew that Esmeralda was in the plane, but now that the authorities have her, they're going to use her to draw me out. Thibodeaux claims she has been treated well since she was taken, but I would expect him to say that. I'm worried about her."

Jiang leaned back and closed his eyes in thought. The words spoken by Ortega concerned him because the man who he'd intended to be his partner was getting desperate. People in these circumstances can make reckless moves without realizing what they've done. He pondered the possibility of Ortega surrendering to the FBI, so they'd free his daughter. Not wanting to imply that he'd do such a thing, he asked a less suggestive question. "Roberto, you're not considering taking any sort of extreme action, are you?"

"I don't know, Jiang. At this point, I'm not sure what to do, but I can't go on not knowing when I'll see Esmeralda again or how she is being treated."

Although he didn't say anything, Jiang's concern increased. Normally, he'd never worry about Roberto talking, because the man knew the importance of the code of silence as well as anyone on earth. Jiang's concern was borne of the immense personal remorse that Roberto felt for his daughter. He'd seen men in these situations do things they've never dreamed of, such as giving up their associates to the authorities.

As soon as he heard Roberto express his concerns, he changed his entire outlook on their relationship. He realized that a man as unpredictable as Roberto would be nothing but problems for his organization. In a matter of seconds, the possibility of them working together became a definite impossibility. In fact, because of Roberto's knowledge of his smuggling operation, Jiang realized that to protect himself, he might have to order his bodyguard to eliminate the Colombian.

To keep the conversation going, Jiang asked, "Does the FBI have any specific charges on you, or are they focusing on you because of your past?"

"I don't know. On one hand I don't think they have anything specific because I've been out of the life for over six years. I haven't had as much as a parking ticket in that time. However, with the drive to eradicate the illegal drug industry in Colombia, the American authorities are working with the Colombian government and they're digging up past criminal activities to pick up people like me. Several of my former colleagues have been prosecuted."

"Have you talked to your lawyer, Roberto?"

Ortega looked embarrassed. "No I haven't. HHe's doing time in Leavenworth and finding a new lawyer, who has the cojones to stand up to the authorities takes time."

"Excuse me a moment." Leong pulled out his cell phone made a call. He talked for three or four minutes, then rang off and smiled at Roberto. "That was my lawyer. He thinks if they were to pick you up at a meeting that was ostensibly held for the return of your daughter who had been abducted, that is entrapment. He thinks, regardless of the charges, it would be easy to beat. He's very good, in Miami and at your disposal if you need him."

Roberto Ortega had been in and out of enough court rooms to know that unless you had the entire jury in your pocket, which didn't even happen in Colombia any more, that there is no sure thing when it comes to the legal system. In a high percentage of the cases, it's all about whomever has the best lawyer. He nodded and said, "I'll keep that in mind."

Jiang knew it was imperative that he keep an eye on Roberto while he thought about his next course of action. In an understanding voice, he said, "I know this is a difficult decision for you, Roberto. Why don't you come with me back to my house. You can relax there while you think about this and decide on your next course of action."

"Thank you, Jiang. I'd like that."

Josie arranged to have a rental car delivered to the hotel. She then drove to Georgetown, the capital city of Grand Cayman and the location of the Ebanks Swimming Pool Service. On the drive, she decided to first use Jiang's real name in her quest. If they had no account under his name, she'd try his business names.

She walked into Ebanks Swimming Pool Service and was glad to see only one lady in the office. The room was divided with a small office on the right side of the room and displays for swimming pool equipment and accessories on the other side. She walked up to a counter and flashed her best cover girl smile.

The lady stood up and approached the counter. "Can I help you?"

"Good morning, I sure hope you can. I came in because my boss uses your pool service at his residence and he wants to change the day of his service. His name is Jiang Leong, but I want to make sure you have the right address because his son, with the same name, also has a house here and I don't want to change his service."

"One second please." She then went to a filing cabinet and began thumbing through files.

A man wearing an Ebanks Pool Service work shirt walked in a rear door. Josie averted his gaze but she could feel him staring at her. She began rummaging through her purse, hoping the lady came through soon.

"Here it is. Is that the address on Ironwood Drive?"

"What's the number?"

"Sixty-eight."

"That's it. Can you change his service to Wednesdays?"

The lady checked the card and said, "It's on Wednesdays now, ma'am."

"Wonderful." Josie threw her hands up in disgust. "That means someone already called to have it changed and I made a trip for nothing. O.K., thanks for your help."

Josie smiled at the lady, then at the man who been silently watching them. She walked out, worried that the guy had been staring out of suspicion and not admiration.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Special Agent Phil Davis called his ASAC as soon as the people were in place for surveillance and he was checked into a room. His boss wasn't a happy man. "You've got a kidnapper, but no kidnapping has been reported. The suspected kidnapper has ostensibly been trying to return the child for a week. The same guy has ordered some counterfeit passports but hasn't used them, or even taken delivery of them that we know of, because you lost the counterfeiter. You've got an ex-cartel kingpin who hasn't been heard from in over six years and on whom we have no outstanding warrants, although over the years he has been implicated but not prosecuted in several capital crimes."

The was a silence and Davis didn't want to hear what he knew would follow. "Agent Davis, what you've got is a lot of nothing. You've been spending a lot of your time and the bureau's resources chasing these two guys around the Caribbean and as of right now, you can't even tell me what crime has been committed. I think you'd better call in your troops and fold up this investigation. We can use you on some cases where a criminal act has actually taken place."

Davis presented his defense while trying not to sound like he was pleading, "Look, there is something under the surface here that we haven't uncovered yet. Give me two more days. All I'm asking is two more days and I'll have something that we can take to court."

"O.K., Davis, you've got until five o'clock Thursday, but you don't have to use all of that time. You may terminate the investigation and return to your office sooner if you see fit."

"Thank you." Davis knew he was fighting a losing battle. His dreams of bringing in both Ortega and Thibodeaux had no eroded to the point where he would be content to learn that a crime had indeed been committed. As time went on he became more and more of a believer of Thibodeaux's story, although he was hoping there was more to this debacle than an accidental abduction.

Davis called Manuel Ibarra who was ready to set up a tail on Thibodeaux, until he learned that no tail had been necessary. "He's still in the hotel. We've got all of the ground floor exits covered. Unless he goes out a second story window, he hasn't left. The woman left about thirty minutes ago, but the guy hasn't left."

Davis then told Ibarra he was going into the coffee shop to get something to eat and that Ibarra should let him know if he spotted Thibodeaux.

As soon as Josie left the pool service Sam Gilliam, the workman who'd been staring at her and had overheard the conversation, told the woman, "Let me see that card."

He looked it over and said, "That's one of my houses and no one has changed the day of service in years. I've been doing that house on Wednesdays since two owners ago."

From Sam's reaction the woman realized that this might be one of the houses where the owners expected anonymity and secrecy. She asked, "Is that the Oriental guy with the upgraded security system?"

"Yeah, Mr. Leong."

"We'd better call him and tell him that someone is trying to find out where he lives."

Worried that the company secretary might have allowed the stranger to breach their customer's security, Sam Gilliam called the Leong residence. Hilda Wright, the housekeeper answered.

"Hilda, this is Sam Gilliam from Ebanks Pool Service."

"Yes, Sam. How can I help you?"

"I think Mr. Leong should know about a lady that was in the office a few minutes ago. She said she was here to change the day of service for his pool service, but I think she's some sort of cop and she was really here to get his address."

There was concern in Hilda's voice. "Did she get it?"

"Yes, Lily gave it to her, but Mr. Leong doesn't have to worry."

"Oh...."

"I'm going to track down the woman and bring her to him, so he can find out what she is up to."

Hilda wasn't sure how to respond to that but she knew her boss would want to know about a situation where his security might have been compromised. "Thank you. I'll tell him to expect you."

After consulting an island map to find out where Ironwood Drive was located, an excited Josie called Tibby, "I got his address; it's in Ocean View Village over by Meager Bay Pond. It's only a few miles from here, so I'm just going to take a drive by there to see what kind of security the place has."

I never had a doubt that she'd be successful in her mission, but Essie had made it known whose company she preferred. "Don't be too long because Essie wants you here to play a game with her. I offered but she says I don't know how to play as well as you do."

Josie grinned at the thought of the child missing her. "Tell her I'll be back in time to play several games before she has to take her bath."

She pulled out of her parking space, heading south and looking for signs to Shamrock Road. Both sides of the street were lined with historic buildings that had been renovated to reflect years gone past, but Josie barely noticed them. Her mind was focused on finding the guy who might be able to lead them to Roberto. Time was of the essence because there was no telling how long Essie's father would be on the island.

Hilda discreetly told Jiang she needed to talk to him about an urgent matter. He excused himself to Roberto, then followed his housekeeper to an adjoining room. While wringing her hands, she said, "Sam called from the pool service store. A woman was in there under the guise of changing the day of your pool service. In doing this she was given your address. Sam said he thought she was some sort of police, but he said for you not to worry. He said that he'd bring her to you."

Jiang suspected that someone was tracking him down because of Roberto's presence at his house. He was certain it was unintentional by Ortega, but still the misdeed had been committed and he had to react accordingly or pay the consequences. He thanked Hilda for the information, then called his right hand man on the house intercom. "Yao, meet me in the garage at once."

Yao Kai Shek served Jiang as a security director, masseuse, body guard and karate instructor. The twenty-eight year old held black belts in two martial arts, with a third degree black in Taekwondo. His self defense ability was only exceeded by his devotion to his boss, who had taken him off the streets of Hong Kong at age eleven. Since then Leong had groomed the lad as his servant and now paid him twenty thousand a month with varied benefits, as long as he kept Jiang living in relative obscurity and invisible to all law enforcement.

A minute later the six-foot-two Yao came bursting through the rear door to the garage. "What do you need, sir?"

Jiang explained what he'd been told by Hilda, including Sam's promise to bring the woman to him. Jiang instructed his trusted servant, "Go find them and get the woman. Pay Sam off and impress upon him to keep his mouth shut. Then take the woman to the warehouse. Call me when you arrive there."

"Yes, Jiang-san. Consider it done."
CHAPTER FORTY

Josie turned left where Walker's Road joined Shamrock Road. Traffic was light and she hoped she'd be able to drive by Leong's house and then get back to the hotel quickly. She didn't want to keep Essie waiting.

She had just passed the Cayman Islands Squash and Racquet Club when she noticed a small blue pickup truck behind her. It caught her interest because it had a large tank in the bed. A similar truck with the same tank had been parked next to her at the pool service store.

She slowed down to draw the truck in closer. As the truck neared her rear bumper, she took a good look at the driver. He could have been the guy she'd seen in the store, but she couldn't be sure. There was only one way to find out.

Josie checked her map. A mile or so ahead, just past the Grand Harbor Supermarket center, there was an exit for a road that made a loop down by the shoreline. That was just what she needed. She continued on the highway watching for the sign for Prospect Point Road.

When she came to the turnoff, without signaling, she cranked a hard right onto the loop road at the last second. The blue truck slowed but couldn't make the turn. He drove past and appeared to be looking at her. She wondered if he was interested in where she was going, or if he was cursing her erratic driving ability.

It didn't take her long to find out. Within a minute the blue truck came squealing around the corner, then braked to a stop so it was blocking her car. She dialed Tibby, then said, "Someone followed me from the pool store. They caught up with me and it appears they want to talk." Without waiting for his reply she put the phone in her shirt pocket.

The driver of the blue pickup got out, slammed the door and stomped toward her car, looking as if he had a score to settle.

Josie realized her best defense was an equally aggressive offense. She stepped out of her rental car and walked toward him like someone on a mission. With a scowl on her face, she yelled, "What's your problem, fella'?"

Her assertive demeanor took the guy by surprise. He hesitated for just a second, then reached for her arm and said, "You're coming with me, lady."

"I don't think so, buster."

Josie spun and kicked Sam's feet out from under him. After falling, he rolled over and reached for a knife sheathed in his belt. She kicked it out of his hand, kicked him once in the ribs, then placed a foot on his throat. "Now, why so much interest in me?"

Glaring at her, breathing heavy, Sam said nothing.

"You better talk, mister or I'm going to deliver you back to the pool store, tied hand and foot and stripped naked."

He croaked, "You were looking for Mr. Leong's address."

Josie knelt down, one knee on his arm and clamped a firm grip on Sam's wind pipe. She picked up his knife and placed the tip of the knife under his chin, pushing it until the skin broke and a spot of blood appeared. "What's wrong with that? Why would you not want me to have his address?"

He reached for the knife with his free arm. In a flash, she grabbed his wrist and twisted until he screamed. "Not smart, fella'. You'd better start talking."

He looked at her with wide eyes full of revenge.

Josie pushed slightly harder on the knife. "You're pissing me off and I'm the one with the knife."

He spit at her, then, "I ain't telling you nothin' else, lady."

She stood up and said, "Stand up."

He stood, his face reflecting hatred and contempt.

Josie spun again and drove her heel into his right shoulder, disabling his right arm.

He screamed in agony and grabbed his injured shoulder, while backing away.

Pointing at him, she said, "That's so you know, I can take you down anytime I want to. If I ever see you again, I'll finish the job. Get out of here."

Sam retreated to the truck, his limp arm dangling at his side. Using his left hand he started the truck and drove away, never looking back.

Josie took the phone out of here pocket and said, "The guy is headed back into town with his tail between his legs."

Tibby had been listening to this over the open phone. He had an inkling of what had happened, but now that his suspicions were confirmed, he took on a protective role. "Why don't you come back and watch Essie while I check out Leong's digs?"

The inference that she was getting in over her head, and that Tibby could better take care of himself, didn't sit well with Josie, especially since she'd just whipped her opponent and sent him packing. In an icy voice, she said, "I'm coming back after I check out the house, but it's only to watch Essie. It's not because I need you to do the dirty work."

"Josie, I wasn't suggesting that you can't take care of yourself...."

She cut him off, "Yes you were, Tibby. That was a typical male chauvinist statement, that I should be back there watching the child and you should be out here knocking heads and doing the heroic stuff, because I can't handle it."

"Josie Blaine, you of all people should know that I have the utmost respect for your ability to protect yourself much better than I."

While Josie and Tibby were talking, Yao was driving toward Georgetown on Shamrock Road. He came up behind Sam's familiar blue truck and laid on his horn while waving him to the side of the road. Sam recognized Yao's red Corvette and pulled onto the shoulder.

Looking like a man possessed, Yao skidded to a stop and approached the blue truck. "Where is this woman that you called Hilda about?"

Without explaining the details of what had happened, Sam said, "She's back by Prospect Point Road. She's driving a dark green Nissan rental car. Be careful, Yao. She handles herself pretty well."

Yao ignored Sam's comment and thrust a few hundred dollar bills at him. "Nobody hears about the woman, got it?"

"Yeah, sure. I know how to keep my mouth shut."

Yao returned to his car and made a u-turn, spraying gravel as he tore out of the shoulder.

Josie and Tibby had concluded their disagreement and were talking on more civil terms. Tibby asked, "Why was that guy chasing you?"

Josie wasn't thrilled that her cover didn't work out. She said, "He was from the pool company. He saw me when I was talking to the secretary so he must have concluded that I was after Jiang's address."

Tibby discreetly left this alone. They still had to find the house and she could do it just as well as he could. His dilemma was how they went about finding Ortega after learning the location of the house. "Finding this guy's house is only the next step, Josie." He thought about the conversation with Mad Dog and the reference to Jiang's numerous residences. "And we have no guarantee that this is the guy's only house on the island. He might have a backup somewhere in case people like us try to find him. I know firsthand how adept Robert is at making himself invisible and this guy is probably just as transparent. Any suggestions?"

"As my esteemed partner has so often stated, we just take it one step at a time until we have achieved our objective."

Josie heard the squeal of tires. She looked toward the entrance to the loop road, expecting to see the blue pickup truck returning. Upon seeing the red Corvette, she was momentarily confused. However, there was no mistaking someone coming toward her in a hell of a hurry.

She told Tibby, "I've got more company. I'll be in touch."
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Yao skidded to a stop beside Josie's rental and stepped out of the car. He stood by the open car door and stared at her for several seconds, as if he was sizing her up. Then he closed the door, took off a light jacket and tossed it in the car.

Josie sensed that his guy would be harder to subdue than the first guy. Just the fact that he took the time to look her over, maybe to see if she was armed, told her that he wasn't one to rush into a confrontation. Also, judging from his slim waist and broad shoulders, there wasn't an ounce of body fat on him.

She thought about her ability to defend herself against a worthy adversary. With the exception of the swim with Essie, she hadn't worked out in at least two weeks. She held a black belt in Taekwondo, but hadn't been to a class in almost two months; she was rusty. She'd had no problem with the first guy, but this one was a different story.

She stepped out of the rental car and said, "Are you looking for someone?"

"You." He grinned.

Her popularity would have been flattering, except both of these hard cases felt that they had to resort to violence. "Now why would you be looking for me?"

Yao took one step toward her. "You're coming with me."

"Are you sure you've got the right person?"

Again the grin and a slow nod; he was very sure of himself.

Yao had taken another step toward her, when Josie looked over his shoulder. A police cruiser had turned onto the loop road. Thank goodness! Her salvation was here. She waved to get their attention.

The police car drove slowly toward them, then stopped behind Yao's Corvette. Josie walked toward the cruiser, while keeping her distance from Yao.

She was about to tell them about the guy harassing her, when the driver stuck his head out of the window. "What's up, Yao?"

"Hi, Dave. How is the wife? Is her cold better?"

The cop said, "Oh yeah, she's her mean old self again."

Wonderful. Josie sensed that she was the odd person out among old friends. She shouted, "This guy has been chasing me and now says he wants me to go with him. If you'll kindly tell him to leave me alone, I'll be on my way."

The driver of the cruiser looked at Yao and said, "That right?"

Yao grinned again and shook his head. "I just wanted to talk to her. I wouldn't hurt anyone. You know that, Dave."

Dave laughed, a short disgusting snort. "I know. You take care, Yao." The officer ignored her and backed up the cruiser.

Josie yelled, "Hey, you morons!"

Totally oblivious to her presence, the police officer made a K turn, then drove away.

Yao said, "They're busy. Lots of crime to fight around here."

Josie walked toward her rental car. Her only recourse was to drive away from this guy and get back to town where he might be more hesitant about accosting her.

Yao caught her from behind and grabbed her right arm. Josie turned into him and tried to drive her left elbow into his rib cage.

Yao blocked it and smacked her in the jaw with a back fist.

Josie felt stunned. From the force of the punch delivered with a slight effort, she knew this guy was good. She recovered, spun around and tried a snap kick to the crotch. Again he blocked it. She faked a back kick and put all her effort into a spinning hook kick.

Yao brushed it off like a pesky fly. He then punched her with a quick uppercut to the chin.

Josie crumpled to the pavement.

Yao took out her cell phone and tossed it into a pile of rocks. He then threw her over his shoulder and dumped her in the passenger seat of the Corvette.

I called Josie's number four times. No answer. I was worried and frustrated. Worried that someone had caught up with Josie and she'd been a victim of foul play. Frustrated because I had to stay with Essie and couldn't go look for her. Pacing the floor, I wracked my brain trying to think of way for me to get out of here, without abandoning Essie.

Essie asked, "Will Josie be back soon?"

I thought, she might never be back, but said, "She should be here within an hour or so, honey." I had to keep her occupied, so she wouldn't think about Josie. It was almost time for dinner. "I'll order us some something to eat while we wait."

I called room service and ordered Essie's favorite, fried chicken with French fries. I ordered a ham and Swiss sandwich for myself, although I wasn't sure if I could eat. My insides felt like a cement mixer.

Once our dinner order was placed, I decided my only recourse was to call Davis and enlist the FBI's help. I dug out the card and dialed the Special Agent's number.

"Special Agent Davis."

"Davis, this is Thibodeaux." As soon as I said this, I thought about what Mad Dog had said, that he hadn't told the FBI about Jiang having a home on Grand Cayman. If they didn't know about it, I might have some bargaining power.

"What can I do for you?" From the tone of Davis' voice, I was certain that my call wasn't the high point of his day.

"I'm on Grand Cayman and I've got some information you might be interested in."

He wasn't as interested as I'd hoped. "I doubt that you called just to help me out, Thibodeaux. What do you need in return?"

I wished I had thought this out a little more before I called. I had just become aware that I had more than one objective here and getting Davis to play ball might be harder than I thought. First I had to pique his interest. "I can give you Jiang Leong."

"Assuming we want him, what do you want from us?"

The prick wanted him worse than the winning lottery numbers, but I had to bite my tongue. "I need your help finding my partner who has been abducted."

"How about Ortega's daughter? Do you still have her?"

"She's right here with me, and that brings up something else."

"Go ahead, Thibodeaux." He wasn't long on patience. "We're all here just to satisfy your desires."

He was really going to blow his stack when he hears this. "If, in going after Jiang Leong, you run across Roberto Ortega, I don't want him taken in."

"You're dreaming."

"That may be, but I've also got Jiang Leong's address."

Silence; he was thinking about this. "We know where the son of a bitch lives. We can never catch him at home on Norman's Cay."

"That's not his only home."

He was borderline livid. "Damn you, Thibodeaux. If you've got information pertaining to an open investigation, you'd better spit it out, or I'll haul your ass in so fast, you'll miss the trip."

"I said, I'll give you what you need. I just need some reciprocal consideration."

He was thinking again. I interrupted. "Where are you?"

"Same place you are, on Grand Cayman." To keep him interested, I had to give him more. "Here's the scenario. Leong has a house on the island. My partner disappeared while she was looking for Jiang's house. I'm certain one of Jiang's people grabbed her. I'll need a police matron to watch Esmeralda while I go look for her. I'll take you to Jiang's, but I want to be there when you question him because I think he knows where she is. If, in the process of tracking down Jiang, we find Roberto Ortega, he walks."

"The last time I checked the bureau hadn't been formed to suit your needs. Why don't you just give me his address now and you can stay there and watch cartoons with the kid."

"Jiang is already feeling the heat. If you don't move pretty soon, he'll be gone and you'll never track him down."

Ten seconds of silence. "O.K. I'm bringing one of my people to watch the girl. Where are you?"

I gave him the hotel and room number. Then I explained to Essie that someone else would be staying with her, while I went to get Josie. I tried to explain it so she wouldn't think that any harm had come to Josie. She saw right through me.

"Tibby, did Josie get hurt?"

"I sure hope not, honey."

"When you find her, you tell her to come right back here."

"I'll do that, Essie."
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

After locking Josie in the warehouse, Yao called Jiang at his residence. "The woman is out cold and locked in the warehouse."

His boss had been struggling with a decision ever since he found out someone was trying to track him down. He had grown to like Roberto Ortega and had been looking forward to including the former drug lord in his organization. Unfortunately, he was in a business where there was no room for emotions.

He had to make this decision based on his essential desire to stay out of jail. And he was certain that whoever was trying to find him had been unknowingly led to Grand Cayman by Ortega. He further rationalized his decision by deciding that he didn't want to be in business with anyone who moved around so carelessly. Surely Roberto would understand because he had certainly been in the same situation many times throughout his criminal career.

Jiang said, "I've come to the conclusion that we're going to have to eliminate Ortega also. I'm going to arrange for him to be on the back lanai, near the pool. When you get back, come through the rear garage entrance and follow the path to the pool area. I want you to render him unconscious and take him to the warehouse with the woman. Don't kill him yet, because I might want to question him when he comes to."

"Will they be going for a boat ride later tonight?"

"Yes, after dark you can take them out, fit them with some cement shoes and give them a burial at sea. Also, I'm going to be leaving. I'll be at address number four. You might not be hearing from me for several months. If you need to get in touch with me, leave a message with my banker at  Banque Cantonale de Genève in Switzerland."

"Got it." Yao drove back thankful that his boss had specified not to kill Ortega because that was always messy and he hated to get blood on the upholstery of his Corvette.

Josie regained consciousness to find herself lying on a concrete floor with her hands cuffed behind her. The interior lights weren't on but enough sunlight shone through the windows for her to survey her surroundings. She was in some sort of storage building that was packed with boxes and crates of all sizes. Then she noticed the temperature, it was cooler than outside. She looked up and saw ductwork radiating out from an air conditioner. Why would they want a warehouse kept cool? Was it for the phony pharmaceuticals?

She rolled over then stood up, a little tipsy at first. She counted four windows in the building. Because they were all covered with bars and wire mesh, she couldn't even break one to yell for help. There were also two doors, but it was a given that they were locked. Whoever put her here didn't want her leaving. She thought about the Oriental guy who'd come after her; it couldn't have been Jiang because he'd never do his own dirty work. This guy had to be one of his button men. She wondered how many thugs worked for the guy.

Her guess was that she'd been knocked out and imprisoned because she tried to get Jiang's address. Now the question was, would they kill someone for doing that? She had to call Tibby. He couldn't come after her because he couldn't leave Essie, but she wanted him to know what kind of a game these guys were playing.

She lay down and pulled her arms over her rear end, then pulled her legs through so her hands were now in front of her. She felt her inside jacket pocket; her phone was gone. She checked her other pockets, nothing. With no way to contact anyone, she felt naked and exposed. Before anyone returned, she had to find her way out of this place.

She began looking for a tool to get the cuffs off. While she was doing this she also checked out a few of the boxes. Most of them were labeled for pharmaceuticals, but she noticed a couple dozen cartons that were set off in a corner. They were all four or five feet square and narrow, hardly the type for shipping phony drugs. She asked out loud, "I wonder what we have here?"

A look in one of the large narrow boxes revealed a wooden crate, which upon further inspection she found a painting. Now she understood why the building was air conditioned. "Well, I'll be damned! Mr. Leong has been a very busy little criminal."

She pulled the crate out of the box to see if she could get a look at the painting. It was covered with Plexiglas, so she saw only a blurred image of the art work. On the end of the crate, however, she saw a name stenciled on the wood: Musée Jacquemart-André, 158 Boulevard Haussmann, Paris.

Josie knew the gallery. She and Tibby had toured Europe three months ago. During their trip they visited several of the galleries. Then she remembered that this one and two other museums had been robbed a month before she'd been there. Because it was such a daring robbery of the establishments that boasted about their security, people had still been talking about it when she was there.

She shoved the crate back into the box and opened another carton. This one also held a crate and stenciled on the end was: Musée de l'Orangerie. Another of the museums that had been robbed. She quickly returned that crate to the carton and began looking through the rest. She also found a crate labeled: Musée Marmottan-Claude Monet. That was the third museum that had been robbed. Josie then began looking for other similar cartons; she discovered about two dozen, which mean there were over a hundred million dollars worth of art work stored here. She wondered if Jiang's crew had pulled off the robberies, or if he was fencing the stolen paintings. Either way the fact that she knew about the stolen paintings wouldn't work in her favor.

She began moving the cartons back where she'd found them. She didn't want anyone to know she'd discovered the stolen art, although they'd probably suspect she did and it might not make much difference regarding her disposition. Dead is dead, regardless of the reason.

Looking through the rest of the warehouse, Josie found a box cutter lying on a window sill. It wouldn't serve to get the cuffs off, but at least she could search more of the boxes. Slicing the top off another box, she found it filled with boxes labeled for women's shoes. When she opened the carton, there were no four inch heels inside. It was packed with stacks of U.S. currency, twenties fifties and hundreds. If the rest of the shoe boxes contained currency, there had to be several million here.

Because she'd been left here with all their merchandise and loot, Josie figured someone would be back shortly to dispose of her, thereby insuring that she never talked about her discoveries. To ensure her longevity, she had to find a way out of the warehouse.

She walked to one of the doors. It was the sliding type that was large enough for a car to drive through when open, but a tug on it revealed that it was locked from the outside. The door on the opposite side of the building and was the same, also locked on the outside.

Josie then checked the windows. All of them had bars on the outside and the glass was reinforced with metal mesh. The window glass was also frosted so she couldn't see out. Consistent with their security, they didn't want anyone looking through their windows, nor did they want them used for an escape route.

She looked closely around the entire building for a fire alarm or phone. Nothing. From all appearances she was stuck here until someone came to get her. She then decided what she had to do and told herself, "If I can't get out, at least I can prepare a reception for the next person to enter the building."
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Yao returned to Jiang's residence and followed his boss's instructions. As he walked along the pathway through the tropical vegetation, he thought about taking Ortega to the warehouse. He was bigger than the woman and would be harder to move, but in the past he'd disposed of larger men for Mr. Leong. This one should be no different.

He paused at the edge of the foliage. The Colombian was sitting on the lanai with his back to him. Perfect. The guy would never see his face and never know what hit him.

Yao crept silently up to the edge of the lanai and slugged Roberto in the back of his head with a sap, knocking him unconscious. He then dragged the bigger man back to the garage where he tied his hands, then put him in the passenger seat of his Corvette. He arranged Roberto so he looked like he was asleep, then opened the garage door and pulled out.

The woman who'd been dressed as an airline pilot on Jamaica showed up in twenty minutes. I was impressed by how fast Davis arranged that, which told me he was in a hurry; therefore interested in how I could help him. She and Essie took an immediate liking to each other and I felt much better about leaving the child. I hugged and kissed her and hurried out the door, hoping I was in time to find Josie alive.

Davis was waiting outside the hotel in a rental car. As soon as I got in, he asked, "What's the address?"

I wasn't falling for that. As long as I knew the address and he didn't, I had job security. I said, "Take South Sound Road to Shamrock Road east."

He glared daggers at me, then drove away. Another car with two or three people in it followed us, but I didn't ask who it was.

After we pulled onto Grand Cayman's main highway, he asked, "Why are you protecting Ortega so much? Is it because of the child?"

"It is. You don't have anything substantial on him, so I'd feel a whole lot better if he was there to raise his daughter and she lived out her life with a father." I looked at some of the addresses we were passing. We were getting closer. "You haven't come out and said you agreed to letting him walk. However, if you pick him up and prosecute him on some meaningless old charge, every day for the rest of your life, when you look in the mirror, you'll see a twenty-four carat turd staring back at you."

He glanced at me, but for some reason, didn't mention how much he appreciated my help.

I pointed to an exit for Ocean View Village and said, "Turn in here."

All of the houses in the development were behind walls and each driveway was individually gated. We could see only the roofs of the houses and they looked like they were large one story residences. We'd passed a couple of driveways when I noticed the red Corvette coming toward us. The reason it caught my attention was because it was an early 1970s model, which were real dogs. I thought that someone who could afford these digs could afford a better model sports car.

As I watched the car pass us, I froze in place. There was no mistaking, Roberto Ortega either asleep or dead, in the passenger seat of the Corvette. I would have bet money that wherever they were taking Ortega, was where I'd find Josie.

I didn't say anything to Davis because, one, I didn't want him going after Roberto and two, unless I missed my guess he was going to play right into my hand. Then I'd have a chance to go after the Corvette and Josie alone.

I looked at the addresses on the walls. We came to sixty-six, then a gated entrance with no address. "That's it," I said. "Keep going."

Davis spoke into a walkie-talkie, "It's the one we just passed with the climbing vines on the walls. We'll go in through one of the neighbors and enter the subject's yard from the rear."

He continued down the road a few hundred feet then pulled over. As he got out of the car, he said, "I'll be right back." He walked to the other car and began conferring with his partners.

This was where I find out if I'm going to get a chance to go after the Corvette. I figured when he and his crew went in, he meant to leave me in the car. I didn't want to alienate Davis any more than I already had, but I had to find out what his plans were.

When he returned to the car I told him, "When you go in, I'd like to go with you."

Again he gave me the stare that questioned my very presence on earth. "Not at first, you're not. There will be only two of us going in and you're staying here. I'll handcuff you to the steering wheel if I have to."

I had to resist; he'd expect it. "Are you forgetting he's got a friend of mine?"

"Are you forgetting who's running this operation?"

With an acting job befitting an Oscar, I faked disappointment. "O.K., it's your show."

"Damn right it is."

I almost injured myself to keep from smiling. And, I was not handcuffed to the steering wheel.

I watched as Special Agent Davis and one of the people from the other car walked to the neighbor's gate. They rang the bell, then waited for an answer from the squawk box. There was some talking that I couldn't make out, but soon the gate swung open the law enforcement contingent walked in. I caught a glimpse of the house through the open gate. It was fronted with flag stone, all professionally landscaped and had a front door that could have come from an old English castle. Leong had obviously picked the most affluent area on the island to live, but that was no surprise.

As soon as the electric gate swung shut, I slid over to the driver's seat and looked at the car behind me. One person waited in that car. I thought about going back to the car and telling him something that would explain why I was leaving, but then decided time was more important.

I started the car and drove off, looking for the red Corvette. When I came to the entrance to Shamrock Road, I could either go left or right and didn't see the Corvette in either direction. If I turned right I'd be headed back toward Georgetown. My gut instinct said the guy in the 'Vette wouldn't head for town. I turned left and stepped on it.

I'd driven about three miles when I caught sight of the red Corvette. Although my impulse was to close on the 'Vette, so I didn't lose him, this guy would be watching for tails. With that in mind, I hung back far enough that I was losing sight of him on some of the turns.

The Corvette continued eastbound and turned onto Bodden Town Road. About two miles after passing Meager Bay Pond, he took a left and turned onto a secondary street with no signs. I slowed down and continued straight ahead while watching the car drive away from me.

I pulled off to the side of the road and thought about the situation. I had no weapons and unless she'd found one, Josie didn't have any either. I didn't know where the Corvette was headed but there was a good chance that there were more people there who wouldn't welcome me with open arms.

I looked back at the road where the guy had turned. The area was semi wooded with some marshland. It looked like it had once been cleared for housing, but now there wasn't a lot of activity and no houses that I could see. The guy in the Corvette didn't know me and he didn't know my car. I decided I could drive down the road without stirring any suspicion and at least see where the Corvette went.

I turned around, then hung a right turn. Creeping down the road I saw a few houses but they looked older and not nearly as opulent as Leong's house. I'd gone about two miles when I saw a cement block building sitting by itself inside a chain link fence. I drove past the building until I was almost out of sight, then pulled to the side of the road.

Looking back I could see that the building and fence were fairly new. I was certain the fence would be juiced and equipped with motion sensors, or some other state of the art warning system. The joint was also isolated; there were no other buildings within sight of this one. From my vantage point I could now see behind the building. Parked out of sight in the rear of the warehouse, I saw a white delivery van—and a red Corvette.

I asked myself, now what?
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

For the past half hour Josie had been working like a mule stacking boxes beside the door. Fortunately, many of the cartons were small enough or light enough that she could handle them with cuffed hands. When the pile got taller than she could reach, she found boxes that were study enough to support her weight, then climbed on them to continue stacking until the structure was several feet above her head.

She was admiring her creation when she heard a car drive up to the building. She ducked behind the stack, hoping that when the pile fell on the next person through the door, it would disable them enough that she could overcome them and make her escape.

The next sound she heard was someone pulling the chain off the door. The steel door began sliding open. Peeking through a crack between her boxes and the wall, she saw a tall dark haired man step through the doorway. He was two feet inside the warehouse when she shoved the boxes so the cardboard avalanche cascaded onto the unsuspecting victim.

Perfect. She heard him yell, then saw him turn and throw his arms over his face to protect himself. In spite of his efforts the boxes knocked him to the ground, where he lay under a bulky blanket of cardboard, moaning and cursing.

Josie started toward her victim, tossing boxes aside to get at him. Then she heard someone laughing. It stopped her cold. She saw the Oriental guy who'd brought her here standing in the doorway holding a nine millimeter. "Nice try, lady, but you got the wrong guy."

She cursed under her breath and looked at the man on the ground. He'd clawed his way out and was sitting in the middle of a sea of boxes. He glared at her and let out a string of obscenities in Spanish.

Again the Oriental found this amusing. "Lady, you almost did my job for me. The guy you ambushed is Roberto Ortega, your fellow prisoner."

Stunned, Josie didn't reflect her surprise.

Yao motioned with his pistol. "Get over against the wall and sit down."

She sat as ordered, then tried to put the pieces together. Ortega, a prisoner? He was an associate of Jiang's. What had happened?

The Oriental was grinning, but now it was a diabolical grin, void of all humor. He addressed Roberto, "She meant that ambush for me. Now the two you are going to wait here for a few hours. Once it's dark we're all going for a boat ride."

Roberto sat down a few feet from Josie. He hadn't looked at her or said a word since he'd been buried under the boxes. Josie continued to think about his presence as a prisoner and if, given the chance, she should mention Esmeralda. Of course, if they were going for a boat ride after dark, there could be only one outcome and it would be terminal for both of them. What she said now would have little bearing on their abbreviated future.

While they sat awaiting darkness, the Oriental was moving boxes while keeping an eye on them. Once this was finished he went outside.

Josie whispered to Roberto, "Esmeralda is fine. She is with a friend of mine and she is safe."

With no idea who she was, Ortega looked at her with disbelief. Too loud, he asked, "How do you know this?"

Again in a whisper, "I'm with the guy who tried to return her to you on Jamaica. That meeting was not a setup. The FBI was there but he was not working with them. He was serious about returning her to you."

Suspicious of this stranger, he struggled with that. Finally, he asked, "Where is my daughter?"

"She is with my friend at a hotel on the island. We tailed you here, hoping we could give Esmeralda back to you."

Roberto moaned, then leaned back against the wall, tilted his head back in despair and stared at the ceiling. Until now he'd been thinking over the scenario of Jiang turning on him. Nobody understood better how things worked in the underworld than Roberto Ortega. However, even with his vast experience in criminal enterprises, he was surprised when he regained consciousness and found out he'd been taken prisoner. He realized at once that Jiang had done this to protect himself from the possibility that Roberto had brought the law to the island. Still, the turn of events burned through to his core. Then to find out that he could have gotten Esmeralda back earlier, but had muddled this up because of his suspicious nature, was almost too much for the man.

Josie felt his hopelessness. She realized that Tibby couldn't leave Essie to search for them, but the FBI was on the island. Would Tibby call them to report her disappearance? Would they help him after their differences? Roberto wouldn't know the intricacies of the situation, so she tried to say something encouraging. "I think there are people looking for us. I don't know if they'll find us before we leave for the boat ride."

Ortega showed no sign of hearing her. Josie thought he was struggling with the fact that he was so close to getting his daughter back and now he was going to be killed without ever laying eyes on her again. He moaned, "Jesus, Maria et Jose."

Josie felt so bad for him, but could say nothing to relieve his anguish.

The Oriental guy walked back in and sat down on a box, staring them. Her conversation with Roberto was over.

Back at Jiang Leong's house, Special Agent Davis had identified himself to the neighbor's housekeeper and said, "We'd like to observe Mr. Leong's property from the cover of the common wall and shrubbery between the two yards."

The woman beckoned them into the house saying, "Go right on through the living room and out the back door. Mister and Missus Stevenson are in the states, so I'm the only one here."

"Thank you. Is there a gate between the properties?"

"Yes," she pointed to the rear of the house. "It's down past the fish pond. I don't think it's locked."

Davis and his fellow officers walked into an expansive yard with a pool, Jacuzzi, tropical pond and entertainment center built around a barbeque that would easily handle half a steer. They watched the house for twenty minutes and saw no activity. Fearing that Jiang had already left the property, Davis gave the order, "Jenkins, you come with me. Foreman, search the grounds outside the house."

Davis broke the window on a rear door and entered the house. It soon became apparent that no one was home. The law enforcement team turned the house inside out, but found nothing that was incriminating toward Jiang or anything that indicated where he'd gone. Davis knew from experience that criminals who have several residences, rarely move completely into most of them. They stock the place with their living essentials and necessary furnishings, but in most cases the house is little more than an expanded hotel room that has been outfitted to suit their personal needs and desires.

Davis called the officer who'd been left in front to make sure that no one left that way. "You can tell Thibodeaux that there is no one home, but he can come in now if he wants to."

"He left, sir."

"He what?"

"He left. Right after you went into the neighboring house, he drove away."

Hearing this, on top of missing Jiang, pushed Davis close to the edge, but he kept his voice even. "And you didn't stop him?"

"No, sir. I thought it was part of the plan."

"Get in here and help us search the house."

"I'm on the way, sir."

Davis called Thibodeaux's cell phone.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

I was sitting in a small parking lot made for the people visiting the beach. I'd been thinking about my situation for fifteen minutes when the ringing of my cell phone startled me. I was hoping it was Josie, but wasn't surprised when I looked at the calling number and saw that it was Special Agent Davis.

"Thibodeaux, where the hell are you?"

In talking to Davis, every phrase has to be thought out for potential consequences. If I told him exactly where I was, he might come charging in here accompanied by police with their sirens blaring. This could trigger the execution of Roberto and, if she was in the warehouse, Josie. I had to avoid any surprises to whomever was holding them.

I explained the scenario first. "When we were driving up to Jiang's house, I saw a red Corvette leaving. Roberto Ortega was in the passenger seat and he looked like he was asleep, unconscious or dead. When you went inside, I borrowed your car to follow the Corvette. I figured if they were taking Ortega somewhere, that's where I might find Josie."

"So, where are you?"

"I'll tell you, but I don't want you coming with a brass band."

"Thibodeaux...." He said it in a low voice, like your father did when he knew you were lying to him.

"I'm in a parking area off Bodden Town Road, about a mile east of Meager Bay Pond. The Corvette I saw is parked at a small warehouse off a side road about two miles from me."

"Do you know who else is in there?"

"I know Roberto and the Oriental driving the Corvette are there. I don't know if it was Jiang I saw, but I'm betting he doesn't do his own dirty work."

"I'll be right there...with no band."

I felt better that I would have some armed assistance, but I was still worried. If Jiang took Ortega prisoner, for whatever reason, he was as good as dead. If they had two prisoners, there was no way they'd ice one while allowing the other one to live. No way at all.

I was proud of Special Agent Davis. He arrived at the parking lot with not so much as a squeal of tires. However, when he got out of the car to address me, his voice might have been heard back at the warehouse.

He walked up, leaned on the door, then bellowed, "Would it be too much to ask if I use my rental car?"

I slid over to the passenger seat and offered some advice. "Easy now. You're just angry because you didn't find Jiang at his house. Whoever is at this warehouse probably knows where he is, so you're not dead in the water yet."

He gave one of his sideways glances, I'd seen a dozen times. "For being in the business of recovering stolen aircraft, you sure know a lot about the law enforcement profession."

Because I wanted him to help me find Josie and to overlook Roberto's presence, I sensed it was time to become a little more compliant. "Just offering an opinion. You're running this operation and I won't get in your way."

"Thank you." Davis walked back to the other car, spoke a few words then returned and said, "Let's take a ride. Show me where this place is."

"Turn left on Bodden Town Road and take the first right. It's about two miles down on your left side."

Davis drove as I'd instructed. When the warehouse came into sight, he drove past it slowly without looking directly at it. From the passenger seat, I was staring at it like a kid at his first strip tease show. The front door was closed so I didn't see anything inside. As we cruised further down the road, I saw the Corvette and a white van in back of the building. "I don't see any people, or activity, but the red Corvette is still there and it has been joined by a white delivery type van."

Once we were out of sight of the warehouse, Davis pulled over. "We've got a problem. Here's how I see it, we don't know if your partner is there or not, but we've got to operate on the assumption that she is captive in the warehouse. We can't approach the Oriental guy while he's got Ortega and your partner. We've got to wait for him to make a move. Regardless of what happens to everyone else, I'll be hard pressed to explain why I let Ortega go."

"Possibly during the confusion of the arrest, he slipped away, never to be seen again." The moment that came out of my mouth, it sounded lame.

Another sideways glance that made me feel like a school kid. "Thibodeaux, you could be damaging to a person's career."

I countered more vehemently than I meant to. "I doubt that the Oriental guy driving the red Corvette was Jiang, but we know damn well he's an associate of his and most likely he can lead you to his boss. If you can grab Jiang, isn't that enough? I mean who cares about Ortega?"

He didn't answer my question; he was still mulling over his M.O. "We have to surprise him. If he sees anyone coming, his first reaction might be to take out your partner and Roberto."

"I agree." Like he cared.

"We're not going to get close to that place in the daylight."

I agreed again but didn't say anything. I'd come to the conclusion that this conversation sounded like two old married spouses talking to each other.

He proclaimed, "We're going to wait for nightfall to see if we can get close to the place without being seen."

I didn't like waiting, but had no choice. I said, "Let me ask you something. The Oriental guy isn't going to keep them in that warehouse forever. At some point, he's going to move them or their bodies somewhere else where he can get rid of them. He would probably do that under the cover of darkness, right?"

Davis looked at me like he was actually considering the credibility of my statement. "Possibly."

I motioned over my shoulder and said, "It's a mighty big ocean out there."

"I was just thinking about that." Of course he was. He keyed his walkie-talkie. "Call the local police and find out the locations of all the marinas on the island and any docks where someone could board a boat. Don't tell them why we're getting the information. Also, ask them if they have a police boat and how long it takes to launch it."

He cast a knowing glance at me. "I don't entirely trust the local police. On an island like this everyone knows everyone else too well."

"So what's your plan now?"

"We wait for the sun to go down."

Josie had been pondering every small detail of her limited future, looking for an opportunity to escape or trounce their captor so she and Roberto could forego the boat ride. She suspected that the Oriental was going to load them into the van and then drive them to a location where they'd be forced to board a boat. Because he'd have to leave them handcuffed, she guessed it would be a remote location, such as a private dock, rather than a public marina where someone could see them walking to the boat with hands bound. If they were taken to a remote location, there was no chance of them getting any outside help.

She thought her best chance of making an escape or overcoming the Oriental would be when they were being transferred from the van to the boat. She'd considered that he might have someone else driving the boat so he could go about his task of arranging their disappearance. This wouldn't work in her favor because the Oriental's attention on them would be

undivided, but she'd still look for an opportunity to liberate herself and Roberto.

Her thoughts turned to Tibby. She wondered if he'd called the FBI. Even if he had, there was nothing to lead them to this warehouse. Her fate was looking grim, but she wasn't going down without a fight.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

The sun had just gone below the horizon when Agent Davis and I saw a pickup truck turn down the road toward the warehouse. Because there was little other traffic on that road, Davis decided to follow the pick up at a distance.

We were barely in sight of the truck when it turned into the drive leading to the warehouse, then parked behind the warehouse. As we idled past, a black man got out of the truck and walked into the building. I said, "I wonder if this guy's presence is an indication of the condition of the captives? Is he here to help load the prisoners into the van, or help load bodies into the van?"

"I don't think they've killed them yet. Dead bodies are too hard to explain, no matter how well you know the cops."

I nodded trying to decide if I agreed with his assessment. My only conclusion was, sitting in that car, while Josie was being held captive a couple hundred feet away was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life.

Davis continued past the warehouse until we were out of their line of sight. He parked behind a line of trees where we could still watch the warehouse driveway. Once in place, he called his partners, "We're north of the warehouse on the side road. I'm waiting here until I see some movement. I'll call when they leave the warehouse."

"Roger that."

We didn't have to wait long. Twenty minutes later we saw the van pull out of the warehouse lot. Davis called, "It's a plain white delivery van. Pick them up and follow at a distance when they turn on Bodden Town Road. We'll be trailing you."

"Got it."

I said, "Tell your guys to get out of the car and walk toward the beach."

"What?"

"Quick, tell them to walk toward the beach, like a couple of tourists. If they're just sitting in the car, when the van driver goes by, he'll make them as the law in a second."

Davis made the call. The guy on the other end finally agreed, but sounded like he was being asked to give up his first born. If I'd have been in the other car, I'd have punched someone. Knowing that Josie might be on the way to her death and that I had to wait for the right moment to make a move, was tearing at me. I was also terrified that one of these other guys might do something to hasten Josie's demise.

Davis' cell phone rang. He answered, uttered "yeah" a couple times, then "thanks." He told me, "There's a boat ramp at the dive resort but it's private and closed after sundown. There is another dock about five miles past the resort. That's the last one until you get way over on the north shore."

"Is a police boat coming to assist?"

"No. They only have one and it's in dry dock for repairs."

Again my confidence took a hit, but my determination was building by the second. I told Davis, "If Josie is still alive, I'm going to save her, no matter what it takes."

I was surprised by his answer. "I'm with you, Thibodeaux. We'll get her out of there somehow."

"It has to be before they board the boat."

"I agree."

I was thinking, didn't mean to say it, but it came out. "Once that boat leaves the dock, we have no way in hell of catching it."

"That's true."

Davis was being agreeable, but I still hadn't heard how we were going to pull this off and that was not comforting in the least. Was I expecting too much? This was the first time that Josie's life had been on the line and I was a player in the outcome. I'd been shot at many times and I much preferred that to this.

From a distance we watched as the van continued toward the east end of the island, away from the most populated areas. Bodden Town Road changed to Seaview Road and I knew from looking at maps that the East End Marshland Natural Habitat was off our left.

We drove through the small village of East End that consisted of a few streets, post office, service station and library. The name of the road changed again to Austin Conolly Drive. After we passed the Compass Point Dive Resort houses became more sparse.

By my watch we were ten minutes past the dive resort when the van pulled off the road into one of the parking areas for beach goers. Davis radioed to the car closest to the van, "Keep going until you're out sight of the van, then turn around. Wait for me."

As we passed the van I saw the narrow dock jutting into the surf. This was where they'd meet the boat. There were no interior lights on in the van, so I couldn't see who was inside. I did see one person step outside the van shine a flashlight into the darkness of the ocean. Another light was returned from a distance on the water. If that was the boat they were waiting for it was still far enough out that it would take several minutes to get here. I told Davis, "I saw the dock they're going to use and they just signaled for their boat to come in."

He picked up his walkie-talkie and called Ibarra, "Manuel, take Stone and head for the beach. Wait for us and stay on the far side of that dune so they can't see you from the van."

"I copy."

Davis parked the car and said, "Take off your shoes. We're going to the beach."

I took off my shoes and socks. Then I had to ask, "What is the plan? Do you have any idea how you're going to overcome these guys, who are certainly heavily armed?"

"I'll tell ya' when we meet up with Ibarra and Stone."

This time I gave him a sideways glance because I knew damn well he didn't have the foggiest idea how we were going to pull this off. I had given the situation a lot of thought and I didn't have any ideas how to get Josie and Roberto out of there either, but I'm not the one who is supposed to come up with the strategy. I'm just a dumb pilot.

Josie felt the van slow and pull off the highway. She watched her captors for any movement that would indicate when they were going to the boat. One man got out of the van, but she couldn't see what he was doing. The Oriental split his time between watching them from the front and the guy that had gotten out.

She noticed it was dark out, which might make it easier for her and Roberto to distance themselves from their captors, if they found a chance for them to make a break. Then they had to make their getaway without getting shot.

The guy who'd gotten out of the van climbed back into the driver's seat. She heard him say, "It should be here in about twenty minutes." He put a flashlight on the dashboard, leaned back and started whistling.

Josie looked at Roberto Ortega. When he looked back at her he was completely dead pan, as if he did this sort of thing all the time. How many near death experiences had he survived in his life of crime? She also speculated that he was reliving his life, coming to terms with himself, maybe accepting that this was an end he deserved.

In a low voice, she asked Oretga, "Can you swim?"

"Si." As soon as he said it he hung his head; his cuffed hands rubbed his moist eyes.

She'd probably brought him more grief by mentioning swimming, which reminded him of Esmeralda and her plans to become an Olympic champion. Now he was watching his dreams of his daughter's success evaporate in front of him. Seeing his despair fueled Josie's determination to get him out of this quandary alive.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Davis said, "Mr. Thibodeaux you and I are going to act like a couple of drunk tourists who are having the time of their life, strolling along the beach, singing their favorite old tunes in the tropical moonlight."

I looked for the moon, it was nowhere to be seen. I followed Davis as he sauntered down the path to the beach, where we joined up with Ibarra and Stone. I looked out to sea and didn't see a boat yet. With no moonlight on the water, the sea was pitch black. Also, there were no lights near the beach. That might be in our favor.

Davis said, "We'll have to take them before they reach the boat. I want you two to go sit on the beach near the dock. They shouldn't notice you because of the darkness. When we see them leave the van, Thibodeaux and I are going to stagger down the beach like a couple of drunk tourists. In doing so we'll get on the other side of them. As they near the dock, I want you two to approach them, like you're just strolling down the beach. Have your guns drawn but out of sight. Once they pass us, I'm going to distract the gunman. That's when we take them down."

There was a silence while everyone thought about this. Finally, I had to say it, "I don't like it."

Davis looked at me and I continued, "They're going to have guns on Josie and Roberto. Once it dawns on them that the gig is up, regardless of what you say to them or what you do, you can't stop them from shooting. All they have to do is squeeze the trigger and someone is dead."

Davis said, "We have to take them down before they get on the boat and there is no way we can do that without some risk."

Ibarra took my side, "He might be right. In order to protect the captives we need to disable the gunman without giving him a chance to pull the trigger."

I thought about what Josie told me about the guy trying to board RC's boat from the water. We might be able to board this boat from the rear without the driver knowing we were there. "What if we were waiting for them on the boat?"

Naturally Davis challenged me. "How the hell do you plan on doing that?"

"The boat driver is going to pull up to the dock, bow first. While he's waiting for his passengers to make the walk from the van, one of us boards the boat in the rear from the water and takes down the driver. We wait in the lower cabin for them to board. The Oriental is going to make sure that Josie and Roberto board first and he'll most likely put them in a cabin while they head for the open ocean. We can protect Josie and Roberto and take down the Oriental before he knows the driver isn't driving anymore."

Davis looked at the other two. Stone nodded and Ibarra said, "I like it better than taking them out in the open."

I sensed Davis' hesitation and lobbied further. "It's my partner and a very dear friend that I'm worried about. I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't think it would work."

Finally Davis agreed. "O.K. but we've got to take down the Oriental as soon as possible. If he finds out that his driver has disappeared, he'll know something is amiss and the first thing he's going to do is finish off your partner and Roberto."

I looked out to sea and saw the white hull of a good sized sport fisherman creeping toward us through the darkness. It would be at the dock in less than two minutes. "There's the boat. It's show time."

Davis said, "As soon as he reaches the dock, move through the shallows to reach the boat. Manuel, are you familiar with boats this size?"

"You bet 'cha. Do you want me to board first and grab the driver?"

"Affirmative. As soon as you have disabled him, take him down to a lower cabin. Make sure he's incapable of making a sound."

"Got it."

Davis said, "Let's go. When you're boarding cause as little motion on the boat as possible and use the ladder to avoid the props."

The black man opened up the back of the van. In an island accent, he made a weak attempt at humor. "Time to get out, your yacht is pulling into port."

Yao, told him, "Hang on a minute, Jimmy. I want to make sure the boat is tied up so we're not waiting on the dock for him to maneuver in the current."

Josie looked at Jimmy. He didn't look like the type who could pull the trigger without thinking about it. The Oriental on the other hand, scared her. He seemed like someone who was looking for excuses to pull the trigger. As Tibby had once said, "He was the type who could blow someone's brains out and then sit down to lunch."

She'd been thinking about their walk to the boat. Once they were on the dock, if she and Roberto could dive into the water, the chances of the Oriental reacting and shooting with any accuracy, before they disappeared under the surface of the water, were slim. If the ocean was deep enough for this boat to get to the dock, it should be deep enough that she and Roberto could swim away underwater, which would forego the ride to their death. Her only question was would Roberto react soon enough to save his skin?

They waited for three or four minutes. During the delay, Josie looked at Roberto. His head was hung and he appeared to be staring at the floor of the van. Then she thought about Essie. The child was her inspiration to save Roberto's life. She whispered, "When I dive off the dock, you go with me."

He looked up; a blank face signaled his confusion.

"Be ready to dive off the dock as soon as I do. It's our only chance."

She heard Yao, "O.K., he finally found the dock. Bring our friends out."

She'd soon find out if he understood her.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

The three cops and I waded into chest deep inky water about a hundred feet from the dock. With Manuel leading the way and only our heads exposed, the four of us moved toward the boat as swiftly and silently as possible. The moonless night was a Godsend. The uneven, rocky bottom was not.

When we'd closed to within fifty feet of the dock, Manuel swam to the rear of the boat and disappeared. The driver still had the engines idling, so we had some noise to cover up any racket we made during boarding.

I peeked over the dock and looked toward the van. The Oriental guy was standing outside the van but I didn't see anyone else moving yet. Looking back at the boat, I barely saw Manuel's head as he slithered up the boarding ladder and onto the after deck.

So far I hadn't been impressed with Manuel, because he seemed rather aloof for a law enforcement agent. In the next few seconds, however, he redeemed himself. This boat was laid out so you walked from the after deck into the main salon. The cockpit, where the driver was sitting, was located above the main salon and access to it was by a ladder on the after deck.

Manuel went silently up the ladder and knocked the driver unconscious before he knew anyone was there. With the driver over his shoulder he came down the ladder and took him into the salon with making a sound. As I was admiring his work, Davis and Stone moved to the rear of the boat to board.

I looked toward the van again. Josie and Roberto were beside the van in handcuffs. I was relieved to know that Josie was here and still alive, but seeing her emphasized how critical the next few moments would be.

I swam to the boarding ladder and followed Stone up the ladder and across the after deck. From there we all made our way through the hatch into the main salon. Davis then did something I'd have never considered. In the darkness he somehow found a towel and began wiping up the water we'd dripped on the after deck. I silently applauded his actions, then I looked at the wet spots we'd created on the carpeting in the salon. Again I thanked the darkness, although there was a dim light burning on the after deck. I prayed it wasn't bright enough to betray us.

Davis pointed to an area behind a sofa where Stone and I were to hide. He looked at me and said, "Stay out of sight until it's all over."

I agreed to his conditions — unless Josie needed my help. In that case I would do whatever was necessary whether Davis liked it or not.

Manuel had tied up the driver and deposited him in a lower cabin. He and Davis were discussing where the best spot would be to wait until they could ambush the captors.

I heard a voice from the cockpit above us. It was the Oriental calling on a walkie-talkie, "We're bringing them down now."

Again Manuel dashed out of the salon and went up the ladder like a homesick angel. I could barely hear him say something about a mooring line. I wondered if there was any difference between his accent and the driver's.

He returned to the salon and told Davis, "I said I was checking the mooring line. He answered right away, so I think he bought it."

Davis said, "We'll find out soon enough."

They took their places, Davis in a storage locker beside the salon door and Manuel in the lower cabin.

Yao commanded Josie to lead the way across the beach to the dock. He walked right beside her with his pistol pointed at her mid section. Roberto followed them and the black man brought up the rear carrying a rifle.

Once they reached the dock, Yao told them to stop. He grabbed Josie's belt from the rear and said, "I'll hang on, just in case you had any thoughts of making an escape by jumping off the dock." His pistol was still aimed right at her rib cage. He then told Jimmy, "Make sure he doesn't try to dive in before we board the boat."

Trying to sound tough, Jimmy stuck the barrel of the rifle in his back and told Roberto, "You make one wrong move and you're dead before you hit the water."

The procession resumed walking toward the end of the dock.

Josie accepted the fact that an escape before boarding was out of the question. Yao was thinking ahead just like she was. Outfoxing him would be difficult, but she wasn't about to accept defeat. She had to find a way to get off the boat after they'd boarded, no matter what that entailed. She hoped she'd be able to get Roberto off the boat with her, but realized that would make a next to impossible task even harder. The consequences of doing nothing would seal their fate forever.

They came to the rear of the boat. Yao opened a gate that allowed access to the after deck from the dock. Josie stepped onto the after deck with Yao right behind her. He motioned her to the rear and told Jimmy, "Take him down to the lower cabin. I'm going to keep these two separated, so they don't give each other ideas."

I saw Roberto come through the door, head hung, with the gunman right behind him. Holding his rifle on Ortega's back the black man with a rifle and flashlight told him, "To your left and down the steps into the cabin."

After Roberto and his captor descended onto the steps toward the lower cabin, I chanced a peek around the end of the sofa. I could see about half of Josie through the salon door. The Oriental was standing between her and the salon door and had a pistol leveled at her mid section. He had to be taken out before he had a chance to pull the trigger. I was thinking about how this could be accomplished, when all hell broke loose.

I heard a grunt from the lower cabin. Then a gunshot. Then a scream of agony. Someone had been hit.

Upon hearing the gunshot, the Oriental guy turned toward the door for a milli-second. That was all Josie needed. She kicked his gun hand with her left foot and sent his pistol flying. He tried to recover but it was too late, she was still in motion. She spun and caught him flush in the temple with her left heel. His knees buckled and he slumped to the deck. On the way down she delivered a brutal kick to the face that would make any NFL punter green with envy.

There were two cops to take care of whoever had been shot in the lower cabin, so my priority was helping Josie. I sprinted out of the salon onto the afterdeck, knowing how glad she would be to see me. Or so I thought.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

"Tibby! What are you doing here? Who's watching Essie?"

Concerned about her, I asked, "Are you O.K.?"

Shouting, "Don't ignore me. Who is with Essie?"

I held my hands out to calm her. "I got a police woman to watch her while I came to help you. I thought you would be pleased that I had your best interests at heart."

"So you left Essie with some stranger? Damn it, Gabriel. What were you thinking?"

Josie looked at me with more venom than I'd ever seen from her. I knew it was because of Essie. I also knew Josie was not easy to reason with when she was pissed off.

I tried to speak in a calm and measured manner, "She is with a police woman who is working with the FBI. I met this woman and I didn't leave Essie until I was certain that the police woman was legitimate and that they would be compatible."

She looked at me with a dead pan expression that told me that she had run out of rebuttals. I reiterated, "She's just fine and we'll be back with her as soon as I can find a handcuff key."

She looked at her shackles, then motioned to the Oriental who was still out cold and bleeding onto the after deck. "Yeah, we should put these things on him. Who got shot?"

"I don't know."

I went through the salon door and into the lower cabin. Agent Stone had his knee in the middle of the black man's back, who was lying face down. Davis was tending to Roberto Ortega who had a chest full of blood.

"How bad is it?"

"Nothing vital was hit, just a flesh wound in the shoulder. He'll be O.K. if we can get him to a hospital. Manuel already called for a police chopper."

Roberto saw me. In a weak voice he said, "The woman said you had Esmeralda."

"Yes, we do. We we're planning on returning her, but...."

He raised a hand, "My wife is at the house on Amberjack Cay. Take her there, please."

"We'll do that." I felt like I should say something or do something for him. The best I could do was let him see his daughter before we took off. "We can't leave until the morning so we'll bring Essie by the hospital if that's all right with you."

"I'd like that. Gracias."

I asked, "Does anybody have a handcuff key?"

Agent Stone reached into a pocket and handed me one. Davis asked, "I saw the Oriental on the deck. What happened up there?"

"He just learned not to turn his back on a woman with a black belt in Taekwondo. He's down for the count."

As I took the handcuffs off Josie, I told her, "Mrs. Ortega is at Amberjack Cay. Roberto wants us to take Essie there. I told him we'd bring her by the hospital before we took off tomorrow."

"That would be good, for them to see each other." Josie paused then asked this like she was afraid of the answer, "Is your FBI pal going to arrest Roberto?"

FBI pal? "I told him one of the conditions of giving him Jiang was that he didn't take Roberto in. Now that Jiang has given them the slip, I don't know if he'll honor that."

"I might be able to give him something that will take his mind off Roberto." We headed for the cabin.

Davis looked up from his corpsman duties. I said, "This is my partner, Josie Blaine."

Davis sounded civil when he said, "Nice to make your acquaintance. I appreciate you disabling that guy for us. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Listen, I'm sure you were going to search Jiang's warehouse. When you do, pay particular attention to the narrow square boxes that look like they could hold expensive paintings. They're the works of art that were stolen from three Parisian galleries last year and many more. There's at least a hundred million worth of stolen paintings."

Not knowing how to respond, Davis looked at her and grinned. Then he managed, "Oh really. Thank you for the tip."

Josie said, "It's my duty to help out law enforcement any way I can." A pause. "You'd rather have several pieces of nearly priceless artwork than some old retired Colombian, right?"

Davis cocked an eyebrow and said, "You know, Miss Blaine, it just might work out that way."

I was about to remind him that I called him and he'd have nothing in this case if it wasn't for me. However, when Josie sensed I was about to open my mouth, she steered me up the stairs. We were on the after deck when we heard the beating of the chopper blades as it approached. I told Josie. "That's the med evac to take Roberto to the hospital."

"Do we have a way of getting back to the hotel?"

"You bet. My pal, Special Agent Davis said I can use one of the rental cars. As you can tell, he and I have gotten to be pretty close."

She gave me a knowing look. "Tibby, just get us back to Essie as quick as you can."

We walked in the door of the hotel room to hear, "Josie! You're back." Essie ran across the room and threw her arms around her neck. Josie picked her up and carried her to the sofa.

"When Tibby had to leave, I was worried that you were hurt. I was saying prayers that you were all right."

"Honey, I'm fine. I'm so glad to be back with you."

I thanked the police matron who called Davis to make sure she was cleared to leave. Before she departed I briefly told her what had taken place. She smiled and said she was glad to hear that the good guys prevailed.

Josie waited until the excitement of the moment died down, then told Essie, "I've got some good news. We're going to see your padre tomorrow morning."

"Where is he?"

When Essie asked this I got the impression that she was looking forward to seeing her father again, even though it would mean she'd be returning home soon.

"Well, he's in the hospital, but he's not hurt real bad. He'll recover soon and should be going home in a few days."

"What happened to him?"

"He injured his shoulder but it's not a serious injury and nothing else was hurt. He just has to heal up a little and then he'll get to go home. Then, after we see him tomorrow, I'm going to fly you back to Amberjack Cay to your mother."

"Then are you and Tibby going home?"

"Yes, we will be, but we'll see you again, I promise. We'll be good friends for a long time."

Josie's words meant well but to Essie they had only driven home the fact that the separation was drawing nearer. For the rest of the evening games were played and books were read, but the mood was definitely somber.
CHAPTER FIFTY

The next morning the silence continued on the ride to the hospital. Just inside the entrance we found a smiling elderly lady behind an information desk. Josie said, "Roberto Ortega's room please."

The cheerful attendant consulted a computer screen, then said, "That's room two-oh-two and you may go right up. Use the elevator on your right."

"Thank you."

On the elevator ride I thought about seeing Roberto again. Even though the air had cleared and we both knew that we weren't adversaries and that our mutual interest was the welfare of Essie, I still had a sense of unease. Possibly, because our relationship had gotten off to such a disastrous start, and we were both suspicious by nature, it might not be easy for us to accept one another as casual friends.

When we entered his room, Roberto was sitting up in bed reading a newspaper. He had a couple plastic tubes here and there, an obvious bandage on his shoulder, but he looked better than I expected. Not that I considered him a weakling.

Upon seeing Esmeralda, Roberto tossed the newspaper aside and broke into a wide grin. His daughter stood in place as if she was not sure how to react. She said, "Buenos dias, padre."

I wasn't sure if Roberto Ortega was capable of tenderness. He proved me wrong when he said, with genuine compassion, "Hi, sweetheart. I'm so glad you came to see me. How are you?"

Essie nodded and said, "I'm fine."

Feeling the first sign of tears, Roberto Ortega wiped his eyes, then looked at Josie and said, "I can't pick her up. Would you bring her to me."

Josie picked up Essie and sat her on the side of the bed. Roberto took his good arm and wrapped it around her. The gesture of acceptance brought a smile to Essie's face. Roberto hugged her tighter and instinctively tried to bring his bad arm into the act. He grimaced from the pain.

Essie saw this and asked, "Are you hurt bad, padre?"

His scowl turned to a smile. "No, honey, it's not bad. Now that you're here, I'm feeling a lot better."

The emotional reunion gave me a baseball in my throat and Josie's eyes were misting. I nudged her. Thinking they might want some time together, I motioned toward the door. Roberto saw this and said, "No, no, don't go. I have so much to thank you for."

I was thinking that he could also blame us for causing all of this. Josie, ever the diplomat, said, "We're just glad we could bring her to you. We'll be flying her home to your wife just as soon as we leave here."

"Very well. I just talked to my wife and she is expecting you."

I could have just kept my mouth shut, but this was another time when I felt the need to say something. "I'm awfully sorry about all of this confusion and problems we caused. I...."

Again Roberto silenced me with a raised hand.

"There is no need to apologize. Esmeralda is safe and she's going home, so we'll let bygones be bygones. My wife and I would be honored if you and your friend would come and visit Essie one day."

Essie clapped her hands in joy and said, "They promised they would come to visit me, padre. I told them we could all go swimming together. That would be so much fun."

Josie said, "We'll look forward to it."

Roberto asked with a slight grin, "I guess you have my airplane?" Before I answered he looked at Essie, then said, "You might as well keep it. I've got a daughter to raise. I won't be needing it anymore."

I hadn't even thought about the Cheyenne and now hearing his admission that he'd be a stay at home father, I was glad that the plane wouldn't be an issue, and Essie would have a father.

However, there were still three duffle bags that I wouldn't mind getting rid of. "Ah, OK, but there's another matter. When we fly Essie back to Amberjack Cay, I'll be leaving your property that was in the plane with your wife."

"Thank you. That's good to know. It costs a lot to raise kids these days."

This led to an awkward silence and Josie noticed Roberto was tiring, so we all said our goodbyes. Essie got a big one armed hug and pecked him on the cheek. The three of us left him to rest.

As we walked out of the room, I felt good that we'd be returning his daughter and his 'property' before the day was out. Maybe this story would have a happy ending after all.

We were walking down a hallway when I saw Special Agent Davis coming toward us. I told Josie, "I'll meet you in the lobby."

She said hello to Davis, then took Essie's hand and kept walking.

I was instantly worried that his superiors had been adamant about arresting Roberto and Davis was here to carry that out. I stood in place and told him, "And I thought you were someone I could trust."

"Now take it easy, Thibodeaux." He held up a reassuring hand. "I am only here to see if he can give me any information about Jiang's business of smuggling counterfeit pharmaceuticals."

"Do you think he was mixed up with Jiang in that venture?"

"I don't know and at this time we don't have any information that points in that direction, but he knew the guy, so we're just going to talk. We recovered all of the stolen art which will solve a bunch of burglaries that took place in several European galleries, so I'm not looking for any reason to take Ortega into custody. When headquarters heard about the art, they were no longer interested in him."

I nodded my approval. "Now I know why they call you a Special Agent, Davis."

"Speaking of trust, can I count on you to return our rental car that you took last night?"

Oh, that. "I'll be glad to."

"Thibodeaux, I hope we never cross paths again, but considering the way that you go about your business, I think it's preordained."

I could have reacted to that statement, but I was all reacted out. "In an effort to avoid a reunion between us, I'll work harder at keeping my nose clean."

He deftly changed the subject. "How is Señor Ortega?"

"He's doing fine and he was able to spend some time with Esmeralda, so he's in good spirits."

"Are you flying his daughter home now?"

"My partner is flying her to Amberjack Cay. Then we've got to return our client's aircraft that we'd just recovered when all of this started."

Davis actually grinned. "Well, happy landings, Gabriel."

Gabriel? Did he look for ways to.... I just said, "So long, Special Agent Davis."

I walked down the corridor wondering if I'd ever run into him again. He wasn't a bad guy, considering he had to deal with some real low-lifes...like me.

Josie and Essie were waiting in the car. I knew she didn't want to ask me if Davis was there to arrest Roberto, in front of Essie, so I answered her question. "Davis just wanted to talk to Roberto about Jiang's business." She nodded.

I didn't like talking around Essie, so I told her, "Your padre is doing well. He should be home in a day or two."

With the demeanor of a young adult, she informed us, "Mi padre will be glad to get home. He doesn't like to stay in hospitals because the food is bad."

Josie said, "I agree, Essie."

All I could think about was how empty our life would be when Esmeralda was no longer a part of it. I briefly wondered if I should talk to Josie about having kids some day. Who knows?
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

As I walked out to the Conquest, I felt like a giant weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Josie and Essie were headed for the reunion with Essie's mother at long last. It goes without saying that Mrs. Ortega would be overjoyed to see her daughter again. Even thought the separation had not even been a week, it had to be the longest week of her life. Also, Roberto had to be resting easier, knowing that his daughter would be returned to the family safely.

I threw my bags into the Conquest, then buckled in and dug out a chart. The route to Amberjack Cay would take me over Blue Lobster Cay where they'd just expanded Spindrift Airport in preparation for new hotels that were planned to handle the proposed increase in tourist activity. I decided to make my fuel stop there to check out the work being done.

When Josie lifted off from Owen Roberts Airport, with Essie buckled into the right seat, she felt a calming sense of relief. She was finally taking the child back to her mother, who was waiting on Amberjack Cay and nothing could stop them.

The trip, as she would be flying it, would be about nine hundred miles. With a fuel and comfort stop at Spindrift Airport on Blue Lobster Cay, it would take just about four hours. With the exception of a rain squall in the vicinity of Haiti, clear weather was forecast for the entire route, so she expected a boring but relaxing flight.

She looked over at Essie who was engrossed in coloring a giraffe. Essie caught her gaze and held up the book, showing off her art work and explaining, "I haven't put the spots on it yet, because coloring the legs took a long time. Giraffes have a long neck, but they have long legs too, don't they Josie."

"Yes they do. That's a wonderful picture, Essie. You color very well. Is that your new coloring book?"

Essie looked at the cover to make sure. "This is the one we bought at that place where we stayed on the boat until Tibby came back. It's almost all animals and I like coloring animals, except there's no rhinoceros. Why do you think they didn't put a rhinoceros in it, Josie? They put in all the other animals."

Josie smiled. She was still getting used to the seven year old mind and the things that were important in Essie's world. "I don't know, honey. They might have another book with more animals in it."

Changing subjects as only a child can, Essie asked, "When we get back to mi madre, are you and Tibby going home?"

"I think we will be, Essie. We've got to deliver this airplane to a client of ours, but then we'll be going home."

"Where do you and Tibby live?"

"We live in Paradise Valley, Arizona, which is in the western United States."

Essie looked at her squinting into the morning sun. "Is that a long way from La Paz?"

"Yes, I'm afraid it is, honey. It's over two thousand miles from La Paz."

Essie sat silent for a moment as this sunk in. She didn't know how long a mile was, but sensed that two thousand miles was a long way. "When I go back home, will you and Tibby really come to visit me, or is that too far away?"

"Essie, I promise we'll come to visit you."

"I've got a swimming pool so we can all go swimming together. I can even show you how far I swim underwater."

Josie almost came to tears when she heard the anticipation in Essie's voice. She recalled the time that Essie told her about not having any friends to play with. Now, she sounded like having someone whom she'd grown to love, come to visit her would be a dream come true. She made up her mind that nothing would stand in the way of them making the trip to La Paz. "That would be wonderful, Essie. I can hardly wait."

Josie's stop at Spindrift Airport took only twenty minutes. There were no other aircraft waiting for the fuel truck so they were fueled as soon as they landed. While this was being done Josie went in and bought some snacks, then took Essie to the bathroom.

As soon as they lifted off, Josie told her passenger, "Next stop Amberjack Cay and that's where your momma is waiting for you."

"I wish mi padre was there too, Josie?"

"He'll be there in a few days, Essie. I'm not sure exactly when he'll be there, but it should be just a couple days."

Essie looked at her with those big, expressive eyes. "Mi padre is very busy. He always has to go somewhere to see people. That's why he's never home."

Rather than getting into Roberto's activities, Josie let that one slide. She was about to change the subject when she saw Essie yawning. By the time Josie leveled off a seventeen-thousand five-hundred feet, the child was dozing.

I landed at Spindrift Airport a couple hours after departing Gran Cayman and waited for the fuel truck to pull up. Since it was still fueling a Gulfstream parked in the next row, it would be a few minutes before it got here. I was admiring all of the new facilities and taxiways when a ramp attendant's yelling scared the hell out of me.

"Sorry about the delay. It'll be a few minutes before the fuel truck gets here because we've only got one truck working the whole ramp."

"Not a problem, I'm just looking over all of the improvements they made here. You must have an increase in traffic if your fuel trucks are running behind."

"Well, we've got more traffic but our problem this morning is the other truck had a load of contaminated fuel. They had to drain it and refill it, so it won't be back until four or five."

I turned around to face him and asked, "How'd they find out the fuel was bad?"

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "A guy in that Gulfstream was just starting his takeoff roll and lost both engines. When both engines quit at the same time like that, it usually means only one thing, bad fuel."

"He's lucky he wasn't airborne. He'd be in the surf now. I'm glad...."

It hit me with the force of an explosion — Josie might have refueled here.

"Oh my God!" I jumped out of the plane and ran over to the fuel truck. I shouted at the driver. "Did you refuel a brown and tan Piper Cheyenne about thirty, forty minutes ago?"

The driver shook his head. "Nope. This is only the third aircraft I've serviced and no Cheyennes yet."

If this guy didn't fuel her, then Josie got her fuel from the truck that was full of contaminated jet fuel. I ran back to the ramp attendant who was watching me like I'd lost my marbles. "You said the only fuel trucks working today were this one and the one with the bad fuel, right?"

"That's right. Is something wrong?"

I ignored his question, jumped into the Conquest and checked my fuel gauges. I couldn't wait for the fuel truck. I had barely enough fuel to make it to Amberjack Cay. If I expected to catch Josie and warn her, I had to leave now.

I started my engines while thinking about the performance differences of the Conquest and Cheyenne. Normally, my cruise speed was about twenty or thirty knots faster than the Cheyenne. If I pushed it I could probably make up fifty, maybe sixty knots. She'd taken off from Grand Cayman about thirty minutes ahead of me so she had about a hundred and twenty mile head start.

It was going to be close. Her engines could suck up that bad fuel at any time and when they did, the chances of losing both engines were very good.

As they neared Amberjack Cay, Josie began looking for the familiar islands that they'd flown over on their previous trip. Nassau was twenty minutes behind her when she heard a disturbing noise. It sounded like one of her engines had backfired except turbo-prop engines don't do that. She checked her gauges; all were reading normal.

She looked at the left engine, then craned her neck to see the right engine. There was nothing wrong, but in doing so, she woke Essie.

"I'm hungry."

"O.K., honey we'll be landing in just a few minutes."

She'd just uttered those words, then — both engines quit.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

In a split second Josie asked herself, is this really happening? Instinctively, before she formed an answer, her long hours of flight training took over. She executed her engine out procedures, then began her power off descent, watching the gauges to see if the auto-relight would restart either of the engines. Both props auto-feathered like they were supposed to, but she saw no indication of either engine restarting.

She tried the manual relight on engine number two. Nothing. She tried it on engine number one. Still, the gauges didn't move. She briefly thought, fuel contamination, although the reason was immaterial. The aircraft had no power whatsoever and she was only going down.

Mumbling to herself, Josie calculated their glide time. "I'm about thirty miles from Amberjack Cay, descending through fifteen thousand feet. At this rate of descent I'm not certain I can make the runway. Better to prepare for the worst case scenario — ditching in the ocean."

She twisted the transponder knob to the emergency squawk, then dialed in one-twenty-one point five, the emergency radio frequency and made the call, "Mayday, mayday, mayday! This is Cheyenne Seven Papa-Yankee, on the Nassau three-four-zero radial at sixty-three miles. I've lost both engines and I'm preparing to ditch south of Amberjack Cay."

As soon as she made the transmission, she said, "Essie, honey, we lost our engines and might have to land in the water. Are there any life vests on this airplane?"

Without a word, as if she understood the seriousness of their situation, Essie unbuckled her seat belt and ran to the rear of the cabin. She opened a cargo hatch and pulled out two life vests.

Josie turned around and saw Essie putting on her vest. "Don't pull the cord yet, honey. I'll tell you when to pull it." Then she looked at the altimeter; it was unwinding through thirteen-thousand six-hundred feet.

Essie handed her a life vest, with the admonition, "Put yours on, quick."

"O.K., honey. I want you to get in that seat and buckle your seatbelt real tight." Josie pointed to the second seat in the cabin. She didn't want Essie up front during the impact and she wanted her near the door.

Essie complied as if she'd been through this many times.

The altimeter showed eleven-thousand four-hundred.

The only sound Josie heard was the wind sliding around the fuselage. After spending thousands of hours in a cockpit, where she'd always had the engine noise to accompany her, the silence was truly deafening. Again she tried to relight both engines. Again she got no cooperation whatsoever from the stubborn dead power plants.

Josie thought about Tibby and wondered if he'd taken off right behind her. She made a transmission in the blind, "Conquest, Four-Four Charlie-Charlie, this is Cheyenne Seven Papa-Yankee. I'm about thirty miles south of Amberjack Cay and I've lost both engines. I think we'll have to ditch in the ocean a mile or two south of the island."

She heard no answer, then checked her position. The island was clearly visible in the distance and there was a slight chance they could make the runway, but maneuvering for a landing with no power is a very chancy, one time proposition. If she crashed on the shoreline, the impact would be much worse than ditching in the ocean.

The altimeter was just unwinding through ten-thousand two-hundred.

Josie had last been in a ditching class when she was flying for Taylor Electronics out of Scottsdale. They made regular trips to Hawaii, so she'd taken the class as a precaution. Now it might pay off, if she could recall the procedures she'd been taught.

Talking out loud, she began reciting her ditching procedures. "Gear up, flaps retracted, impact the water in a nine to twelve degree nose-up attitude. If there are swells, impact the top of the swell in a direction across the swells. Keep the wings level to avoid a wing digging in and flipping the aircraft. Fly the airplane right down to impact. Upon hitting the water be prepared for the windshield caving in and the rush of water that follows."

Her fuel tanks were about half full so the aircraft would float for a few minutes, but they still had to get out quickly.

The altimeter read nine-thousand feet.

She looked at the island and tried to gauge their rate of descent and the impact point. From here they were committed to ditching, there was no chance of making the runway. It was on the other side of the house and she couldn't chance maneuvering with no power. However, there was a chance they'd land very close to the beach.

Seven-thousand, nine-hundred feet and descending.

When I heard the call on the emergency frequency, I froze in place with my heart in my throat. This couldn't be real — it had to be a bad dream.

With shaking hands, I made the radio call, "Cheyenne Seven Papa-Yankee, this is Conquest Four Charlie-Charlie, do you read?"

"This is Seven Papa-Yankee, we're about twenty miles from Amberjack Cay and I've lost both engines. We're going to be ditching a few miles south of the island in another two or three minutes."

I sat in the Conquest felling completely helpless. I couldn't do a thing. There was no one to help. The Coast Guard would have picked up the mayday call, but they'd never get there in time. I asked, "Are you up to speed on your ditching procedures?"

"I think so." She read off what she'd just rehearsed to herself. "Did I leave anything out?"

God damn it, my brain was a blank. "I don't think so. Do you have life vests?"

"Affirmative and I've got Essie buckled in a rear seat."

"I'm about thirty miles behind you and I've got both engines red-lined. I'm heading directly to the runway. I'll land at Amberjack Cay and see if they've got a boat handy."

"O.K. we're passing through six-thousand one-hundred."

I picked out the island on the horizon and headed straight for it. I also started looking for the Cheyenne. If I could get an idea of where she was going to ditch, it might make it easier to find them in a boat. However, seeing anything, even a twin engine airplane is always difficult over the open ocean.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Josie kept going over her ditching procedures, trying to remember if she'd forgotten anything. She recalled, stall the plane at impact. That makes sense, stall it to bleed off airspeed because she'd be impacting the water about ninety miles an hour. If she hit wrong, the water would be as hard as concrete. O.K., anything else? Nothing came to her. Her altitude was four-thousand three-hundred and it seemed like the water was coming toward them very fast.

"Essie, when I tell you, bend over and cover your head with your arms. Can you do that?"

"Uh-huh."

Josie looked down at the water to see if she could pick out which direction the swells were running. With no power she couldn't maneuver very much, but if possible she wanted to avoid landing into a swell. She was relieved to see that the water looked relatively calm which meant the swells might not be a factor.

Her altitude was three-thousand four-hundred.

Tibby's voice came over the radio, "I've got you in sight and I'm turning to enter downwind for the runway. It looks like you've got just a light chop and no reefs or rocks to deal with after landing. I'll see you in a few minutes, and I love you."

Josie looked up to her left and saw the Conquest banking toward the west end of the island. "Thanks, honey. We're doing fine. I'll respond to that when we're standing on the beach."

She was descending through two-thousand feet. It looked like she was going to impact the water about a mile from the shoreline, which meant they'd have a long swim, unless Tibby showed up with a boat.

Another ditching recommendation came to her, stow all headsets and microphones, so she wouldn't get tangled up in chords when she was trying to get out of the cockpit. She took off her headset and stuck it in her flight bag. Next she took off her shoes and threw them onto the floor by the right seat.

The altimeter read nine-hundred feet.

She had less than a minute to fly. "Essie, we're going to land on the water in a few seconds, bend over now and cover your head with your hands. Stay like that until your hear me tell you to unbuckle, O.K.?"

"Uh-huh." If she was scared she didn't show it.

Five-hundred feet.

Josie stared at the water and kept going over her actions at impact. She reminded herself, "Be prepared for the plane skipping along the surface before the speed dies off and don't panic after impact because the plane will float for several minutes."

Two-hundred and eighty feet.

The water was coming up fast. She looked at her airspeed, one hundred and ten knots. It seemed like she was going much faster. She thought about lowering the flaps to decrease her airspeed. It wasn't recommended so....

One-hundred and twenty feet.

Wings level. She started pulling the stick back slightly to raise the nose, while watching her speed to avoid a stall until just the right second.

Forty feet.

The island loomed in her windshield, the white sandy beach looked so close. The water was coming up fast. "Hang on, Essie."

The tail scraped the water, then she felt a jolt as the entire plane skipped off the surface. Airborne again she fought to hold the wings level and braced for the second impact, which would be harder.

Thunk! The bottom of the fuselage smacked against the water, but it felt like she'd bounced off concrete. The plane hit again, sailed for a second, bounced harder, sailed briefly, then slammed into the water scrubbing off the last of the airspeed.

The Cheyenne settled slightly, still moving forward, plowing through the ocean. She felt the left wing dig in. The Cheyenne spun to the left but didn't flip.

The nose of the plane settled to the water and dug into the surface. A cascade of water washed into the windshield and it popped out on the right side but not her side. The plane settled further and ceased all motion. Josie looked out the window. The wings were still above water, they were floating and the fuselage was in one piece.

She unbuckled; time to abandon ship.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

Josie yelled, "Essie, unbuckle your seat belt and wait for me!"

With a quiver in her voice, the child showed a trace of fear. "Are we going to sink into the ocean?"

Josie threw off her shoulder harness, climbed out of the left seat and hurried back to Essie. She hugged her and said, "We're going swimming in the ocean, but it will be just like when we swam back at the bay. You have your life vest to keep you above water and I'm going to be right next to you. Are you ready?" With fear and apprehension in her eyes, Essie nodded as Josie took off her shoes.

Josie jerked the cord to inflate Essie's life vest, then inflated hers. A quick step and she noticed the sloshing of three inches of water in the cabin. She then felt the plane rocking with the light chop on the water.

She took Essie's hand and led her to the door. Although she was with her friend, the anxiety of what to do next was clear on the child's face. Josie suspected that she'd come to the conclusion that this would be nothing like swimming in her pool.

While holding onto the steps so she didn't get separated from the plane, Josie stepped out of the door into the water. "Come on, honey. I'm here to catch you."

Frozen by her apprehension Essie stood stock still.

"Come on." Josie tried to keep the urgency out of her voice. "You can jump. I'm here and your life vest will keep you afloat."

Essie took one step falling out of the doorway right at Josie.

Josie caught her, then pushed both of them away from the plane. Once they were floating she looked for the beach. It looked farther away now than when they ditched. In the few seconds since they ditched, she wondered if the plane had been floating out to sea? If so, how far?

She smiled at Essie. "O.K. time to swim. Just like you're in your pool." Josie started swimming slowly toward land, while making sure not to get more than an arm's length from Essie.

Not to be left behind Essie put her head down and began stroking through the water like she'd been taught. Josie stayed next to her ready to grab her if she panicked. "You're doing great, honey."

Josie then turned back and looked at the Cheyenne. It was partially submerged, with a third of the fuselage under water. She then looked toward the island. The beach seemed to be further still.

Essie was swimming like a champ, but Josie had decided that if the child became tired, she'd have Essie climb on her back and swim in that way. Then she thought about Tibby, wondering if he had found a boat yet.

I turned in over the runway numbers, slammed the Conquest onto the pavement, threw the engines into reverse and stood on the brakes. The props were still turning as I jumped out the door and ran for the front door, yelling at the top of my voice. "Hello! Hello. Is anyone home?"

When the door didn't open I sprinted around the side of the house and headed for the boat house. I saw two boats, one was a small houseboat that might take forever to start and the other was an aluminum fishing boat with an outboard motor. I knew how to start an outboard.

A female voice yelled, "Where is Esmeralda?"

I turned around to see a Hispanic woman walking toward me. I pointed out to sea. "Mrs. Ortega, she's on another plane that has ditched in the ocean."

"What?" I saw disbelief on her face that would soon turn to horror. "What do you mean her plane has ditched?"

I began untying the small boat and kept explaining to the confused woman who didn't want to believe what I told her. "My partner was flying Essie back here in another plane. The plane took on some bad fuel and lost both engines. She had to ditch in the sea and they're swimming in now. Look, you can see the plane from here." The top of the Cheyenne was barely visible — and a long way out to sea.

I pulled on the outboard motors starter cord, to no effect. Breathing heavy, I said, "I'm going to take your boat to pick them up."

She looked out to sea, then back at me. In disbelief, Juanita grabbed her head with both hands. "Essie was in a plane crash?"

I yanked on the cord for a third time. "Yes, but they're O.K. Your daughter and my partner are swimming in now."

Again she looked out to sea, then mumbled something in Spanish that I couldn't understand.

I finally got the outboard motor to start but it was chugging and missing. I prayed for it to warm up or I'd never make it to the swimmers.

Josie swam slowly so she'd stay next to Essie, while talking to her so the child would know someone was with her. "You're doing fine, Essie. We're getting closer, not too much farther now. Just keep swimming."

The beach was getting closer but their progress was very slow and Josie kept wondering if they were being swept out to sea faster than they were swimming. She chanced a look under the surface. Some rocks were just barely visible, but the water was still several feet over their heads.

They had to keep swimming and she didn't know how much longer Essie could keep this up. She thought about asking Essie how she felt, but as long as the child was swimming steadily, she didn't want to break her concentration. Also, she didn't want to give her a chance to say she was tiring.

After checking on Essie, Josie took another look toward the beach. She didn't see anyone, but she thought the boat house might be out of sight on the east side of the island. She had seen Tibby's Conquest turn toward the house so he should be on the ground now. Whether there was a boat that he could use to get to them was another matter.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

Essie stopped swimming and floated in the her life vest.

Josie asked, "Are you tired?"

Essie shook her head and between spitting out salt water, said, "No, I just wanted to rest for a minute. Is that O.K.?"

"That's fine, honey. We can rest. Look you can see the beach and it's getting closer." As soon as Josie said that, she questioned her wisdom. If Essie saw how far they had to go, she might panic or become disheartened.

Essie looked around at the expanse of blue water. "Are there any dolphins close to us?"

"I don't think so, Essie. I think we're too close to land."

"We better swim some more." With that, the seven year old took a breath, put her head down and began swimming toward land with the confidence of an Olympic champion.

I backed the boat away from the boat house, but the engine was still missing terribly. Realizing that no matter how badly the engine was running, this boat was my only chance to reach Josie and Essie. I turned toward the area where I'd seen the Cheyenne and began scanning the surface of the water.

Looking for anything across open water is difficult, because the surface is constantly moving and the sun's reflection blinds you no matter which direction you're looking. In some cases it's like looking into an endless stream of camera flashes. That I was only a couple feet above the surface didn't help any, but standing up in a moving aluminum boat was chancy at best. I stayed seated.

Before ditching, Josie would have headed for the house so I steered a course directly away from the house. With the rough running engine I was slowly making headway out to sea, but didn't see anyone swimming.

I briefly thought I might be too late, but Josie was an excellent swimmer and the water was relatively calm. Did they have life jackets? Most people would have on the plane them if it flew over the open ocean regularly. Did Roberto? Then I wondered if they'd had trouble getting away from the plane after ditching. I cast the negative thoughts out of my mind and kept scanning the surface of the ocean.

Josie almost cried when she saw the sandy bottom getting shallower beneath them. Then she looked at the beach; it was not more than a hundred feet away. They made it! She wanted to yell at Essie, but decided not to interrupt her because she was still swimming strongly, just like she was at home in her pool.

Finally, she stuck a foot down and touched the bottom. She yelled, "We made it, Essie. We're here!"

Esmeralda Ortega lifted her head up, stood in the shallow water and smiled at Josie. "Did I beat you?"

Josie laughed out loud, then hugged her. Tears of joy started flowing. "Yes, you did, honey. I was swimming as hard as I could but you beat me to shore."

Essie pointed, "Mi Madre."

Josie turned and saw a dark haired woman standing on the beach. As she carried Essie onto dry land, she waved and yelled, "Over here, Mrs. Ortega."

The woman ran toward them waving her arms and screaming her daughter's name.

Josie heard an outboard motor. She looked out to sea and saw Tibby in a fishing boat. Again she waved and screamed, "We made it, Tibby."

At first I thought I was losing it when I heard someone yelling. I continued to look over the surface of the water, knowing I heard a voice. After turning the boat slightly to search in a different direction, I heard it again.

I was frantically scanning the water, thinking that Josie was in distress and yelling at me to help them, but I couldn't see her. I envisioned her and Essie drowning close to the boat because I failed to see them. I turned the boat again.

This time I looked toward the shore. When I saw three people standing on the shoreline waving at me, I laughed out loud. I will never again experience the relief I felt at that moment. I aimed toward the beach and smiled all the way in.

I beached the boat and walked up to the three ladies. Mrs. Ortega was holding Essie, both laughing hysterically. I was concerned about Essie, but that was soon wiped out when she burst out, "Tibby, I beat Josie. We had to land in the water and I swam all the way here with Josie, but I got here first."

I looked at Mrs. Ortega. Again I felt like I should apologize, but she had her daughter safely in her arms; she wasn't looking for apologies.

Josie slipped her arm around mine and said, "I told you I'd respond to your comment when we were standing on the beach at Amberjack Cay. I love you, Tibby." I felt another baseball in my throat and tears were forming.

"We'd better get you in some dry clothes."

"I'm OK. My luggage is in the Conquest. I can change in the plane."

I stopped and hugged Josie. "Speaking of luggage, there are a couple duffle bags we have to leave with Ms. Ortega."

"Good idea."

Mrs. Ortega had her daughter back and her husband would be home in a day or two. I had Josie back after surviving that ditching; I was the happiest man on earth.

My cell phone rang. I looked at the number, then told Josie, "It's Catherine Wilder."

Josie took the phone and put it on speaker. "Hello, Ms. Wilder."

The author didn't bother with a greeting, "Did you find my plane yet?"

Josie answered in her sweetest voice. "Yes, we did, Ms. Wilder. We know exactly where your Piper Cheyenne is located."

"Well, where the hell is it?"

"It's at the bottom of the Caribbean Sea, sitting in about a hundred feet of water."

Silence.

"Wh-what do you mean? Is this some sort of a joke?"

"No, Ms. Wilder, this is no joke. Your plane is sitting at the bottom of the ocean about a mile south of Amberjack Cay. We recovered your plane and you can pick it up any time you want to. As far as we're concerned our business is concluded. Good day."

Josie turned the phone off and said, "We won't be getting any recommendations for future recoveries from her."

"And you won't get any more books signed."

"Let's go home, Tibby."

We said our last good-byes and promised Esmeralda that we'd visit her first chance we had.

Walking hand in hand across the beach, there was nothing more to say.

That's all folks!

About the Author

I was born and raised in Batavia, Illinois, a small town that straddles the Fox River about 30 miles west of Chicago. After our high school graduation, a friend and I found our lives looking pretty bleak. We were thinking that this would be a great time to head for Colorado. We were also broke. This meant the only way we could leave town was by hopping a freight train. So we jumped aboard a boxcar and headed west. Eventually this youthful adventure blossomed into THE BOXCAR BLUES.

I joined the Marine Corps at the age of eighteen and entered the fabulous world of aviation. Serving with the Second Marine Air Wing in Vietnam I was awarded the Navy Achievement Medal with a Combat V. Following my service I joined the FAA and spent nine years as an air traffic controller at O'Hare Field, the world's busiest airport. After O'Hare I spent the next twenty years at various other airports. Now you know why most of my novels have an aviation based theme in them.

I started writing in the late 90s and have had two historical novels published. I've also had the dubious distinction of having 4 publishers show an interest in my work but then go out of business prior to publishing any of my work. As of this writing I have three more novels and two nonfiction books that will be out in the next two years.

An avid outdoorsman and photographer, I currently live in Tucson, Arizona with my wife Diane and our spoiled rotten cat, Pumpkin. My e-mail: arizauthor@cox.net.

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These are my novels that are available at Amazon now, or will be there soon.

THE TARGET — Someone is stealing military jets, leaving behind no trace of plane or pilot. As a field agent for the International Bureau of Investigation, Loretta Goldberg is sent to investigate. She uncovers the ingenious method used to steal the jets, then finds out that she's only digging up what the criminal masterminds want her to find. Knowing the stolen jets will be used for a hostile act, Loretta breaks all the rules. This puts her at odds with bureau management, who think the target is Air Force One. Loretta knows better and calls in a former agent and part-time lover to help her crack the case. Together they buck the system, against a decreasing time element, to take down an enemy syndicate that is bent on capturing—The Target.

THE BRAZILIAN BLUES, — Luke Jackson, his wife and four year old son fly to Brazil to lay the groundwork for Aztec Airline's international expansion. Luke returns to the hotel after a meeting and makes a horrific discovery—his wife and son have been kidnapped. He contacts the local police, only to find out they don't really care about the foreigner's family. He turns to a private detective, who agrees to help him—until the P.I. is found murdered.

Luke enlists more help, but can they get to his family? The kidnappers lead them on a thousand mile chase down the Amazon; a river filled with all kinds of danger. During their journey: The ransom money gets stolen; A boat gets stranded; Luke is arrested; A second man gets murdered: And this is just the beginning!!

DYING FOR DIAMONDS — Vern Garner is and always will be in love with Rosanna Ramirez. When she asks him to help her find her missing daughter, Krista, he agrees to help, but because she went missing in Mexico, he's skeptical of their chances of success. Their first shock is when they discover that Krista is spending time with a leader of a deadly Mexican cartel. Next the Mother, Vern's lover, is arrested for trafficking in drugs. His next surprise comes when he uncovers a diabolical money laundering plot. Is Rosanna guilty? Will their romance survive the ordeal? And do they find Krista? Don't miss DYING FOR DIAMONDS.

In ESCAPE, Tibby & Josie are in the risky business of recovering stolen aircraft. They go to Russia to recover a plane, only to find out they've been used to smuggle a political assassin out of the country. They get out of Russia, but then discover that they've also been framed for an act of sabotage at a Russian military base and their pictures are plastered all over European TV. To flee eastern Europe they have to use trains, planes, boats and that old escape stand-by, a Turkish furniture van.

THE BOXCAR BLUES - Luke and Curly depend on each other as they are pursued by a racist deputy in the lawlessness of the early 1930s. Relying on their road smarts and tempered-steel toughness, they survive a near hanging, a phony murder charge and tragic lost love in the depths of the depression.

In spite of all their problems, however, the boys persevere. You have to read this to find out how Luke and Curly rise from vagrants to become owners of one of the nation's leading airlines. Then, when they think their bad times are behind them, an old nemesis shows up, but he doesn't count on the shrewd resourcefulness of two men who've been hardened by life's brutality.

I hope you enjoy my books. Thank you for your support.

Jeff Egerton

