Bluewater Ice: The Fourth Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 4) Read online

  Bluewater Ice

  by C.L.R. Dougherty

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  Copyright © 2013 C.L.R. Dougherty

  All Rights Reserved

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person with whom you wish to share it. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  I offer a heartfelt thank you to my wife, Leslie B. Dougherty and her parents, Alan and Carol Rea for the assistance and advice they contributed to this work. It is a far better book than it would have been without their participation.

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to real people or events is coincidental. All the places mentioned are either fictional or are used in a fictional way.

  Table of Contents

  Bluewater Ice

  Florida and the Bahamas

  The Bahamas to Antigua and Barbuda

  Anguilla to Guadeloupe

  Guadeloupe to Martinique

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Read an excerpt from Bluewater Betrayal, the next book in the Bluewater Thriller series:

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  A Note to the Reader

  About C.L.R. Dougherty

  Other Books by C.L.R. Dougherty

  Florida and the Bahamas

  The Bahamas to Antigua and Barbuda

  Anguilla to Guadeloupe

  Guadeloupe to Martinique

  Chapter 1

  The wind howled in the rigging like a chorus from hell until her head went underwater. There was a hollow silence as Dani held her breath and braced her feet against the bulwark; she maintained a death-like grip on the handrail as she waited for the wave to recede. When it did, she snatched another breath and resumed her crablike progress along the windward side deck toward the bow, taking care not to tangle her feet in the tether to her harness. She timed her movements to the rhythmic rise and fall of Vengeance as the overpowered yacht crashed through the storm-tossed seas.

  As she paused again to wait for the deck to shed the knee-deep water from the next breaking wave, she spared a glance back at the cockpit to check on Liz. Satisfied that her partner had the helm under control, she inched her way forward again. It was a rule of nature that sail changes always happened at the worst times, usually in the wee hours of the morning, but this predicament was the result of her own impatience. She knew better than to trust a weather forecast this time of year, particularly when heading north from the tropics, and she had known there was a problem with the headsail furling system before they set out.

  Except for the failure of the roller furling stay on their Yankee jib, the storm would have been easily managed. They were about 50 nautical miles northeast of Eleuthera when the wind clocked rapidly from the southeast to the northwest. Had they been able to reduce sail, the wind shift would have allowed them to come about and run straight for the Northeast Providence Channel, quickly putting them in relatively protected waters all the way to Nassau.

  Dani was annoyed with herself. She had known that the bearings in the furler were failing, but she and Liz were committed to pick up a charter guest in Nassau the day after tomorrow. The pre-departure weather forecast had been favorable, and she had gambled that she could replace the bearings in Nassau while Liz got their guest settled. Now the furler was jammed and they had their big jib up in 50 knots of wind. As she got drenched repeatedly on her way forward to drop the sail, she was cursing modern conveniences like roller furling, thinking that old-fashioned, hanked-on sails never jammed.

  She reached the foredeck and unhooked her tether from the safety line that ran from the cockpit to the bow along the upwind side deck. Clipping the tether to the inner forestay, she paused and held her breath as a wave crashed over the bow, lifting her clear of the deck. She felt the tether take her weight as it kept her from being washed overboard, and then the water receded and dropped her hard on the teak deck. Between waves, she moved her tether to the safety line on the downwind side of the deck. Now she could work her way down the partially submerged leeward deck and prepare ties to hold the dropped sail in place against the rail.

  Reaching into the cavernous pocket of her foul weather jacket, she took out a sail tie and made it fast to the leeward rail. She worked her way aft, pausing every few feet to loop another sail tie around the rail. After being doused several more times, she was finally ready to drop the sail. Even though she and Liz had trimmed the sails to reduce the wind-load on the Yankee jib as much as they could, it was still full and drawing. Liz would have to use the diesel to bring the bow into the wind to let the sail fly free, allowing Dani to lower it and wrestle it into the ties she had just rigged.

  Dani worked her way forward again, climbing out on the bowsprit and turning to face aft, hanging in space eight feet out in front of the bow with her back to the wind and the seas. She secured her tether and straddled the Yankee jib, locking her ankles to hold herself against the headstay with one arm on each side of the big sail. She ran through the checklist in her mind; she couldn't afford any wasted motion. Once Liz eased the working jib sheet, the big sail would flog violently. Any delay in dropping it could result in the destruction of the sail or damage to the rig from the impulse loads. Deciding that she was ready, Dani took a deep breath and gave Liz the prearranged hand signal. She felt the vibration as Liz engaged the diesel and opened the throttle.

  Slowly at first, the bow turned up into the wind and the sails began to flog, cracking like thunder in the howling wind. No longer under the steadying influence of her sails, Vengeance began to plunge wildly. With every wave, Dani was submerged in seawater that rolled over the bow. Ignoring her discomfort, she pressed her hands together with the sail gripped between them and pulled down on the sail. As soon as Liz released the halyard that held it aloft, Dani felt the sail begin to slide down. She shifted her grip and pulled again, and again. Soon, her progress came with less effort a
s the length of the sail's bolt-rope in the slot of the furling headstay lessened. In less than a minute, she had the sail down on deck.

  Dani felt the change in the boat's motion as Liz killed the engine and turned the bow out of the wind. The mainsail filled with a loud crack, and the ride eased dramatically. Dani shifted her tether to the leeward safety line again. She held onto the headstay, now bare of its sail, and stepped around it, trapping the sail between her legs as the wind tried to blow the loose canvas over the side.

  She waited as Liz unfurled and trimmed the smaller staysail, which further settled Vengeance. Once they were in the groove, making nine knots on a close reach, Dani grabbed a double armload of the Yankee jib and dragged it to the leeward rail. She lashed it to the rail with the ties she had rigged earlier as she rolled and folded it into a 30-foot-long sausage of canvas. Wind-driven spray continued to soak her periodically as she worked, but no more waves washed over the deck now that they were properly canvassed for the weather.

  ****

  Connie Barrera gazed out at the leaden seascape as the sunrise began to turn the sky gray. If she had been anywhere but Nassau, she would have sworn that snow was on the way. The furniture on her balcony had awakened her an hour ago when it crashed against the wall, driven by the first strong gust of wind. She shivered at the thought of what it would be like to be out in a boat in weather like this. She wasn't a boater, but after living in the Bahamas for a few years, she understood what cold fronts did to the waters around the islands. She wondered if this would cause enough of a 'rage,' as the locals called it, to close the harbor.

  As far as she knew, no one was after her yet, but she was certain that someone would be -- and soon. Her initial estimate put the value of the diamonds at around $10 million. Nobody willingly absorbed a loss of that magnitude; certainly someone would be looking for the stones. The islands were like a small town; everybody knew everybody else's business. She needed to get out of the Bahamas without leaving a trail. Then she could consider how best to convert the diamonds to cash.

  She knew she was in danger, but she believed in fate; she was meant to have those diamonds. When she first arrived in the islands a few years ago with her nest-egg, she had naively thought that she was set for life. She wasn't out of money yet, but she craved financial security. She was young and attractive, and while she had traded on her looks to get to where she was, she was too smart and had too much self-respect to be interested in continuing as a rich man's companion, or even as a rich man's wife. She had tasted independence, and it suited her.

  ****

  Sam Alfieri was also watching the weather as the frontal system closed in on the central Bahamas. While he wasn't at sea at the moment, he had the weather eye of a life-long seaman. He was expecting another shipment today, and given that the last one was missing, he was anxious. His clients weren't the most understanding of people; he could absorb the cost of the delay in the last shipment, but a second unexpected hitch in cash flow would be a problem to him. He had his people investigating that last shipment and the rotten weather would hamper their inquiries. This winter storm that just blew off the east coast could put him under.

  As it was, he would have to make an excuse for the delay, but he thought he had enough credibility to survive that problem as long as he didn't have another one right on its heels. While his clients weren't forgiving, they were businessmen who understood that there were risks associated with the service that Sam provided. He had a track record of trouble-free results that went back for many years, with the exception of the short disruption that resulted from his unplanned relocation to the Bahamas a few years ago.

  That had turned out much better than he had thought it would at the time. He had been forced to abandon both the smuggling business that he had inherited and his ancestral roots in Savannah. Like many who had come before him, he found the Bahamas to be a friendly business environment for a man with money and connections, and he had been able to resume his former sideline of money laundering with little difficulty. Without the day-to-day distraction of smuggling drugs, he had built his former part-time endeavor into a much bigger business than he had ever thought it could be.

  Chapter 2

  "Are we there yet?" Liz asked as Dani emerged from the companionway into the cockpit. Before she left the companionway ladder, Dani set two steaming mugs on the bridge deck, watching for a moment to be sure that they didn't slide with the shifting of the boat. Satisfied that they were secure, she climbed out, holding on until she was settled on the low side of the cockpit and had clipped her tether to a ring bolt in the footwell. "About 80 miles to go," she reported, as she handed Liz a mug. "If we hold this speed and course, we should be in by about three this afternoon -- plenty of time to get cleared in with customs."

  "How long do you think we'll need before we're ready for sea again?" Liz asked, inhaling the steam from her coffee while she waited for Dani to reply.

  "Well, I've got everything I need to replace the bearings in the furler. Figure that'll take me most of tomorrow. How much provisioning do you need to do?"

  Liz frowned, lost in thought for a moment. "That really depends on what our guest wants to do. If we're going straight back to the Virgins or St. Martin, I don't need anything. If she wants to stop and play along the way, I should do a little grocery shopping. There's not really anywhere between Nassau and the Virgins where I can buy much in the way of fresh food. We're good for about a week -- then it's frozen or canned."

  Dani nodded. "There's Exuma Markets in Georgetown." She had a teasing grin on her face.

  Liz shook her head ruefully. "I said fresh. She's not supposed to come aboard until the day after tomorrow. Maybe I'll give her a call tomorrow and see if she's had time to think of where she wants to go, and when."

  "She really didn't have any idea when you talked with her last week?" Dani asked.

  "No. I only talked with her for a few minutes, remember. She's American; she's been living in the out islands for a couple of years, and she's looking for a new venue, farther south."

  "What's she do?" Dani asked.

  "No idea. Probably not much, if she's been in the out islands for two years. She must have some money, though."

  "Enough to book us for the best part of the high season, anyway," Dani agreed. "Probably some rich old bag. We could have a long winter ahead of us, you know?"

  "She didn't sound old on the phone," Liz said.

  "Rich young widow, maybe?" Dani offered.

  "You're never happy with our guests, Dani," Liz scolded. "You were wishing for hot young guys until the last charter."

  "I said 'guys,' Liz. Not 'gays.' What a waste." She shook her head and lifted the coffee mug to her lips, smiling at the recollection of their last guests.

  "Well, I thought they were fun," Liz said, grinning. "Especially David."

  Dani laughed. "You just thought it was funny that he put the moves on me when his partner wasn't looking. You'd have felt different if he'd been after you, I'll bet. But you're right. They were good company."

  "Aw, give the boy a break. He told you he was bi; what do you want?"

  "Eggs and bacon with hash browns and toast. Thought you'd never ask. Dousing that jib was hungry work."

  "Coming right up, Skipper. You got the helm?" Liz scooted around to the high side of the cockpit and crawled across the heaving surface until she could drop her legs into the companionway. Settling her feet on the ladder, she unhooked her tether and disappeared below into the galley. Dani shifted her weight until she was behind the helm. She set her mug down in a safe corner and rose to her feet, gripping the leather-covered outer rim of the helm as she scanned the horizon to make sure there were no other vessels in the vicinity.

  ****

  Sam Alfieri was leaning back in his big swivel chair, feet on the massive mahogany desk in front of him, listening intently to Wallace Rolle. He had known Rolle for as long as he could remember; their fathers had been friends and business partners during the pro
hibition era, when Sam's father had run whisky from Bimini into a number of hole-in-the-wall ports along the southeast coast of the U.S. mainland. Sam and Wallace had played together as children and smuggled drugs into the States when they were in their late teens.

  When Sam's money-laundering business had blossomed in the last couple of years, Wallace had handed off his smuggling trade to some of his extended family and gone to work with Sam full-time. Moving money in the form of gemstones and other high-value, low-bulk merchandise was much less hazardous work, and with the contacts that the two of them had in the drug trade, their services were in demand. Sam had the financial skills and contacts and Wallace handled the logistics; he had ties to all the shipping-related firms in the islands, as well as a few key customs officials who could be induced to look the other way when necessary. Being part of a large Bahamian family, Wallace had plenty of blood relatives who served as impromptu couriers and enforcers when the need arose. By spreading such work around, he was able to avoid any of his minions achieving a high enough profile to attract the attention of the authorities, and besides, the casual nature of the work suited his cousins. They weren't ambitious or greedy; one good score every few months met their needs.

  "Joseph picked up the package in Bimini, just like always. The cook on the dive excursion boat brought it from Miami," Wallace said.

  Sam puffed on his cigar gently and held it away so that he could examine the tip, making sure that it was burning evenly. He shifted his gaze to Wallace and nodded. "So when did Joseph leave Bimini with it?"

  "He was having some trouble with one of the engines on Blacksnake," Wallace said. Sam nodded again, picturing the sleek, black-hulled 40-foot go-fast boat with the three 300-horsepower outboards. Under normal conditions, Joseph could make the 100-mile run from Bimini to Nassau in a couple of hours, but he typically spent a day doing it, pausing to fish and snorkel for lobster with a friend or two to conceal his agenda. Sometimes they would stop at Frazier's Hog Cay or Andros Island and spend the night. If there was a lot of patrol activity, they stopped in both places. It wasn't unusual for the shipment to take two or even three days, depending on weather and how active the spotter planes were. Once they reached Nassau and made the delivery, Joseph and his crew would party for a day or two, enjoying the diversions of the city before going back to Bimini. "He didn't leave Bimini for a couple of days after the pickup, and his friend couldn't come with him; he had some fishermen show up from Miami, so Joseph was by himself, we think."