Bimini Twist Page 21

  Bianca shuddered with sobs, which eventually subsided to light weeping and sniffling. I dug out my flashlight, switched it on and handed it to her, reasoning that it might provide a tiny bit of comfort. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?” I asked to start a conversation and try to learn what I could about our captors.

  “No,” she said. “They can’t hurt me. I am too valuable. But the man who tried to save me…” Bianca went silent. I assumed she was referring to Franklin Avery and that she had witnessed his demise, or at least been told about it to frighten her into submission. I also assumed that her perceived value to her assailants was less than imprisonment for them, and that they would happily dispose of any evidence if the heat was on. But I did not voice that opinion. I would need Bianca to flesh out some details on her seemingly brief connection to Franklin, but would be patient as the mention of him clearly shook her.

  * * *

  I sent another quick text to Deloris. Locked in watertight compartment on starboard side of ship. Just forward of drum storage area. Bianca here and ok. I prayed for a response. Suddenly, I heard the sound of engines starting. When the single light at the top of the compartment came on, I knew that the generators had been started up and all power was back online. I had no idea if this was good or bad news. But it was a relief to not be in total blackness. The light was dim, but allowed me to inspect the compartment. Other than the watertight door, there was what looked like an inspection plate the size of a manhole cover on the ceiling. The plate was held by more bolts than I could count. A rusty steel ladder was welded to the wall, but appeared to have no purpose, as it led nowhere.

  Bianca’s tears had dried. There was no way of knowing how long we would have to withstand our present predicament, I thought.

  I sensed that the ship was moving forward through the water, but it was difficult to know for sure. We could have still been adrift. I could not distinguish main engine sound from generator sound. “We’ll be fine. Why don’t you tell me how you got here?” I had already pieced together a plausible theory, but wanted to hear her story and determine whether or not she would be a good witness for the prosecution. She started at the beginning, seemingly relived to be telling rather than enduring all she had suffered.

  “I come from Romania. I was granted a J-1 visa to work at the resort in Bar Harbor. I was going to meet a friend from Romania who was working on this ship. I remember being in the taxi. But then I don’t know what happened. I woke up on the ship, but not in this place. They put me here because I wouldn’t stop screaming for help and fighting.”

  “It sounds like you were drugged. Did you drink or eat anything in the cab?” I asked.

  “Yes. The air conditioner was not working and it was real hot. The woman, I think her name is Dolly, gave me a small bottle of water.”

  “How many people have you seen since you’ve been aboard? I need to get a sense of what I’m up against here.”

  “I only see two men. They come together and give me scraps of food and a bit of water. They give me a bucket to use for a latrine. I am so hungry. I didn’t dare eat what they brought.”

  I usually had pre-packaged peanut butter crackers in my bag. I rifled through it and found only the thawed bag of peas, which I handed to Bianca. She seemed a bit confused by this strange option. She shrugged, tore the bag open with her teeth, and began popping peas into her mouth rapidly, but one at a time. “Tell me about the man who tried to save you,” I said.

  “He came to the first place they had me locked in. He heard me pounding, and found me. I told him that I had been kidnapped. He said he would save me. But the men followed him when he came back. They beat him up and took his phone, and said they would kill him. I think they did. Then they moved me to this place and told me that nobody would ever hear me.”

  “Did they ever mention any other girls?”

  “Not to me directly. But they did to each other—like comparing me to the last one and saying things like, ‘This one will be worth much more than the redhead,’ and stuff like that. And when I was in the first hiding place, I could tell that I was not the only woman who had been held there. It was really dirty.” She stopped talking, tipped her head back, and dumped a bunch of peas into her mouth by holding up the bag by the corner and shaking it.

  I checked my phone again and was worried that Deloris had not responded. The only thing I was certain of was that Pete would be looking for us. Unless, I thought, he had been caught and dealt with in the same way that Franklin had. Now I was sure the ship was moving. I thought about the worst-case scenario, and quickly dismissed the images that conjured. “Do the men have guns?” I asked.

  “Yes. Much bigger than that one,” she said as she nodded toward my holster. “I am scared that they will come soon.”

  Just as I was preparing to soothe her fears with false confidence, I heard a strange noise. It was a gurgling sound. It was constant. I followed it to a round hole in the bulkhead very close to the floor. The hole was six inches in diameter. Ventilation? I wondered. The hole burped and belched. Then, to my horror, water gushed from it. The flow increased quickly, sending me into panic mode.

  Within seconds, ice-cold water was numbing my feet. Bianca fell into a state of hysteria. This must be a ballast tank, I thought as I tried to jam my bag into the hole to slow the flow of water that was quickly rising. My bag was not substantial enough. Water was up to my knees, and now over the hole. I stripped to my bra, panties, and gun holster and shoved my clothes into the hole. “Give me your blouse and pants!” I shouted to Bianca who quickly undressed through cries of terror. Together we attempted to shove every article of clothing between us into the hole and keep them there. It was not working. The stream of incoming water was too big and too forceful to hold back with what we had to work with. We were now having to plunge beneath the surface to replace the wad of clothing each time it was spit out. The taste of salt confirmed that we were indeed in a ballast tank. When the water rose to my hips, I knew we had to give it up.

  “Get up the ladder!” I commanded. Bianca scrambled up the steel frame. I followed closely behind her, relieved only to be out of the icy water that now rose at a frighteningly rapid pace. I watched as rungs of the ladder below us disappeared under the rising water, one at a time. Bianca and I shared rungs keeping us out of the water until we had reached the top rung and our heads were pressed against the ceiling. We watched our clothes swirl around the surface that crept menacingly closer to us.

  When a high heel drifted by, I grabbed it and told Bianca to start pounding. Although she was now shivering and shaking wildly with hypothermia, she did. My cell phone was at the bottom of the tank. I prayed that Deloris had received my texts. I prayed that Pete would open the watertight door, draining the water that threatened to drown us as it continued to fill the compartment.

  Now clinging to the top of the ladder, with water up to our chests, I began rapping the ceiling with the butt of my Glock while Bianca tapped with the broken-off heel. I heard two bangs followed by a hollow ringing. Gunshots, I assumed. I had a sick feeling that Pete might have been shot.

  Within minutes, I saw a red glow appear on the ceiling at the edge of the inspection plate. Sparks flew and fizzled into the water. Of course the men who worked the engine space would have cutting torches. And they needed to spare Bianca’s life in order to collect proceeds from the sale. My life was in jeopardy, no matter how this played out, I knew.

  The glow moved around the perimeter of the plate as the water crept up our necks. Bianca and I were as high on the ladder as we could physically get. It was a race: the water against the cutting torch. Water licked my chin as I knew the plate was seconds from falling into the water, exposing us to our captors. I braced myself with my left arm wrapped around the frame of the ladder and pointed my gun toward the plate with my right arm extended and just over the surface of the water. Bianca prayed aloud now.

  The plate dropped, just missing my head, sizzled, and disappeared in a fraction of
a second. I extended my left arm to straight and stretched my right arm with the Glock in hand toward the hole left by the plate. The first thing I saw was the barrel of a gun. The next thing I saw was a big, dark eye focused behind the gun’s open sights trained directly on my head. It was Pete.

  THIRTEEN

  The acrid smoke cleared through the freshly cut hole as Pete and I locked eyes through gunsights. As soon as Pete could see that only Bianca and I were below, he quickly tucked his gun away and stretched a hand down to assist us out of the water that was still rising. “You first,” I said to Bianca, who timidly released her grip on the ladder and allowed Pete to pull her through the hole, whose ragged edge still smoked and sizzled. The water had risen to within an inch of my nostrils. I assumed I had been in the hole for hours, but had no way of knowing that. Sheer terror has a way of twisting the clock. I heard a familiar female voice demanding blankets, and assuring Bianca that she would be all right. It could be a hallucination, I thought, caused by the bump on my head, or hypothermia.

  I was surprised yet relieved to learn that the voice was none other than Deloris. I was pulled carefully through the jagged steel opening and into a cabin with four bunks I assumed were crews’ quarters, judging by the absence of portholes. The area was crowded with uniformed crewmembers, all gasping in sympathetic and shocked tones at what I knew was quite a sight: two women, scantily clad, soaking wet, and choking on smoke. Blood on my bra indicated that my head was bleeding again.

  No words were exchanged until both Bianca and I were wrapped in wool blankets. Before I could ask how she got there, Deloris took charge. “All right, let’s get the ladies into a hot shower. And I’ll need clothes—anything you have—uniforms or lost-and-found items—whatever. And I want the ship’s doctor here, pronto.” Two crewmembers responded to her orders quickly. Deloris shooed the others back to their stations, thanking them for their assistance. “Let the passengers know that everything is under control, and that the cruise will be back on track ASAP.” I was impressed with Deloris’s take-charge conduct.

  The Princess of the Seas’ first mate and chief engineer both introduced themselves to me. The chief grabbed a radio from his belt and ordered the aft starboard ballast pump shut off just as water began to lap over the torch-cut hole. Both men expressed their shock at what had been going on aboard their ship. “We will make our way back to Rockland and remain there until the FBI clears us to leave,” the mate told Pete as Deloris led Bianca and me to the female crew locker room and shower area.

  The hot water on the back of my neck revitalized me. My thoughts were clear and focused as I carefully washed the wound over my temple. Events of the past three days fell into place as I lingered under the nearly scalding stream of water. By the time I exited the shower, Deloris had managed to collect appropriate clothing for both Bianca and me. Once I was dressed, I sat and was debriefed by Deloris.

  Deloris had obviously received my texts, and had not responded intentionally. She believed that doing so might put us at greater risk in the event that my phone fell into enemy hands. She had called the Coast Guard, and was told that all vessels were responding to distress calls. When Deloris surmised that multiple fake Mayday calls had been placed, sending all available Coast Guard vessels offshore in response, she sprang into action. She called Cal, my trusted friend and captain, who agreed to transport Deloris and two federal agents working with Pete to intercept The Princess. Deloris was able to track our location through my cell phone, she explained. And once on location, the federal agents zeroed in on Pete through a microchip implant. “Not sure where on his anatomy the chip is located, though. I’ll leave that up to you,” Deloris said in a smart-aleck aside. “The ship’s steward was responsible for the fake distress calls intended to tie up all Coast Guard vessels,” Deloris continued. “He had a handheld VHF radio at his disposal for use in arranging delivery of supplies from other boats.”

  “Money is often an evil motivator,” I sighed. “I suspected that the steward was guilty of something. Is he in cuffs?” I asked.

  “He’s in a body bag,” Deloris replied coldly. “He had a gun to Pete’s head when we climbed aboard—using the rope boarding ladder, I might add. The feds shoot first and ask questions later. The captain is dead, too.” That explained the shots I had heard.

  “The captain was involved?” I asked.

  “Oh yeah. In a big way. I checked the crew list going back five years. And every time this particular captain and steward were aboard this particular cruise, I found reports of missing girls in various ports of call that coincided with their having been there. The icing on the cake was when he pulled a gun on me.”

  “You shot him?”

  “Nope,” Deloris confessed. “I have not been issued a firearm, remember?” Deloris never missed an opportunity to push for a gun. “Thankfully, Pete’s team mowed him down.”

  “Is there anyone left to prosecute? We need to find the top of the food chain.”

  “I have been advised that our work here is done. The feds have been on this case for years, and although they appreciate the local assist, you can go back to busting druggies.”

  This was not a surprise, I thought. But I couldn’t simply let it go. “The Rat?” I asked.

  “The Wharf Rat was working both sides,” Deloris said. “And the bad guys don’t play that way.” Deloris explained how The Rat had been offered a deal on theft charges to work as an informant for the feds. “The Rat was not aware that Tag Team Taxi had been part of the human trafficking ring, and was careless. He actually bragged to Dolly that he was working with Pete. That blew Pete’s cover and cost The Rat his life.” Before I could ask, Deloris continued, “The sheriff has arrested Tag Team Taxi for targeting, drugging, and transporting girls and possibly the murder of The Rat. It looks like a tire iron was used on him and on you. And we’re betting that one of their cars is short one lug wrench.”

  I grabbed a fresh towel and gingerly dabbed my swollen temple, which was still weeping blood. “So, the cabbies were at the bottom of the chain. But who is at the top?” I asked.

  “They are out of our jurisdiction. The Princess of the Seas being foreign flagged was key to this ring’s operation and success. Most Mainers don’t know or care where Bimini is.”

  “But there was more local involvement,” I protested. “What about Larry Vigue?” I asked.

  “Not a nice guy,” Deloris said. “He delivered drugged girls to the ship, using lobster, pilot, and grocery deliveries to cover his frequent rendezvous. And all he had to do was tell any eyewitnesses the girls were intoxicated. When the boss felt the heat closing in, he ordered Larry dead. They tried to make it look like an accident, as you know.”

  “Ron Thomas?”

  “He wore a white hat,” Deloris answered. “Ron had witnessed Larry doing something suspicious, and made the fatal mistake of calling him on it.”

  “From what Bianca told me, I assume that Franklin Avery was killed for the same reasons,” I said. “How many people did they think they could kill before getting caught?”

  “We’ll never know,” said Deloris. “But if you hadn’t followed up on the missing persons reports, this human trafficking ring might have succeeded in two more sales of girls. It seems that your persistent presence pushed them to make mistakes. We found another young J-1 worker locked in the steward’s stateroom. Bound and gagged.”

  I was fully dressed and debriefed before Bianca pulled herself from the shower stall, wrapped tightly in towels from head to foot. Bianca took a deep breath. She looked like she needed to say something as she had heard all that was said in the locker room. Deloris and I waited patiently for her to collect her thoughts and verbalize whatever she had on her mind. “That felt good,” was all she said.

  The ship’s medic found us in the locker room and checked us both out. He declared I needed a couple of stiches and sewed me up on the spot as Deloris explained the process and schedule moving forward. Bianca agreed to testify and help in any way
she could. But she would be leaving for school in Romania in six weeks. Deloris’s phone dinged with a text. She read it and announced, “Tag Team Taxi full confession.” After digesting that information she added, “All of the key players are dead or confessing. We won’t need you to testify, Bianca.”

  “But we do need to feed you,” said Pete Alfond as he knocked and entered holding two cafeteria trays heaped with hot food. He handed Bianca and me each a tray and said, “You are both truly remarkable.”

  It looked like Thanksgiving dinner, I thought as I feigned interest in eating. Bianca caught my eye, giggled, and said, “Peas.” I nodded and shared the private joke as I scooped up a spoonful of the peas and shoved them into my mouth.

  Deloris excused herself to call Cal, who was back in Green Haven and would be worried sick about me, she said. I figured that by the time I got home the story would have been spread to cover the entire town. I knew the sheriff loved the media and would be on the local news tonight. He always explained the fact that he was a ham with the fact that he was an elected official. “There’s no such thing as bad press,” he would say when Deloris and I chided him for being a media hound. Fine by me, I thought. I never liked attention for simply doing my job. I figured the town fathers would not appreciate the news. If they were worried about the effect of drug busts on tourism, how would they like human trafficking?

  When Bianca excused herself to call her roommate, I was left alone with Pete. I was trying to summon the courage to address the elephant when he spoke. “I was going to tell you everything at the party.” I didn’t know how to respond to that. So I didn’t. “Can we start over? I would really like to get to know you. Any chance?”