Chapter 8

 

Making our way back out of the harbor and past the large ships, we wondered which one of the big cruise ships might be the one the girls worked on. Each of the ships pretty much looked the same and each sported a royal name of Princess of something or other. I never thought that knowing the name of their ship was something we needed to know. Then again, I didn’t think we would be headed this far south a few days ago.

Finally out of the harbor, we programmed our satellite navigation system for the island of St. Maarten. It was less than a couple of hundred miles to our south and we had plenty of time to get there before the sun found its way beneath the western horizon.

We checked the charts for information on our next destination and found that the island was actually split in half with the French owning part of it and the Dutch government owning the rest of it. It looked like there were quite a few safe harbors all the way around the island.

Since André was of French descent, we decided to arrive on the French side of the island. The sun was high and bright in the sky and the ocean still quite calm. It reminded me of a large lake as there were virtually no waves noticeable except those you could see lapping themselves up onto the shoreline.

Once away from the harbor and past the still busy launches of the cruise ships, the ocean was ours with nothing in sight as we made our way further south. Again, the boat sliced its way through the calm ocean and the ride was relatively smooth and comfortable.

We had all of fifty hours of running time on the boat but it seemed that with every new challenge came more confidence in our big boat’s abilities. The April weather was warm and the days were growing longer. That was to our advantage for comfort. Something about being on the ocean at night always heightened my senses and added just enough of an edge to make me uncomfortable, especially in unfamiliar territory.

By late afternoon the satellite navigation system showed us to be about 30 miles north of St. Maarten. As we got closer I could see that the north side of the island afforded no good anchorages or places to tie up. From the charts we could see that the best entrance to a good safe place would be on the western side into Simpson Bay.

 As we came around the northwest side of the island we could see a large airplane making its approach to an airport situated on that side of the island. Simpson Bay was huge and once inside we could see a lot of activity further to the northeast towards a place called Marigot. We entered the harbor on the Dutch side and somewhere near the middle of the bay crossed over an invisible line into French waters.

We headed for a large dock area and eventually found a place to tie up to.  We were easily the most exotic boat in the harbor and as we approached the dock there were a number of young locals eager to assist us in our docking efforts.

The dock was busy and this presented me with my first real challenge for fitting a 38 foot boat into a 40 foot hole. There were no cheap boats here. Both the one in front and the one that would be behind us at the pier, although not exotic like ours, were equally as valuable. OK, I thought to myself, nice and easy.

 I think Tom was thinking, OK, now don’t embarrass us. The water was calm enough that when we were about 20 feet off the dock I had Tom throw a line from the bow and then the stern to some people on the dock offering their help. They literally pulled us right up to the dock. Damn, I thought, how fortunate was that? Once tied up, the boat drew quite a crowd from the dockside restaurant.

I paid our dock helpers with U.S. cash. They were more than grateful and offered their services for any other needs we might have. Without a word spoken, the boat said it all. We had money and these guys knew it.

With the boat tied up to the dock, we cleared customs and decided to get something to eat. We walked down the street looking for a place when we heard some familiar songs coming from one of the establishments. The place was called David’s and when we went inside we found a long-haired musician perched up on a stool singing to the tourists who had decided to eat there.

“This looks good,” I said to Tom as we made our way inside.

 The place was a split-level and we opted for a table on the second floor which looked out over half of the bottom floor as well as the bar that ran from the front to the back. Even with the place packed, it didn’t take long for us to order and for the waitress to bring us our food.

“Now what?” Tom asked as I finished the last of my food.

“Well, we have a name and that’s where we’ll start. We will have to befriend some local and maybe he’ll know either Bruce or André. After all, Bruce’s dad said they had a home here. Someone should know these guys. Let’s head back to the dock and make arrangements for keeping the boat there for a few days.”

As we made our way back down the street to the marina, there was a crowd of people admiring the boat and I’m thinking, “Damn, man, even in ordinary paint that boat just screams out. As we got closer to the boat I could see that two of the guys that had helped us with tying up the boat to the pier were still hanging around.

“Man, these guys are never gonna leave after the tip you gave them,” Tom said.

“Well, that’s the cost of not making me look bad,” I said. “Besides, they may prove to be further help.”

As I approached, two of the guys that helped tie up the boat came up to me and asked if they could do anything else. They said they were brothers who grew up here on the French side of the island.

“Ah, so you’re French then?” I asked.

“No, mon. No, mon. No French. No Frog. This was our island long before the French came,” they said.

They explained that they did a little of everything from taxi to helping paint and repair boats.

“Well, I tell you what. How much for just looking after this boat while we’re here?” I asked them.

“Fifty U.S. dollars a day,” the one brother replied.

“Is that a total of fifty or fifty each?” I asked.

“No, mon. Fifty total.”

“Alright, here’s the deal. You got a car?”

“Yeah, mon, I said we taxi.”

“Ok, I’ll pay 50 dollars a day for one of you guys to stay here on the boat. Not in it, on it and 100 dollars a day for the other one to drive us around.”

“Yeah, mon, that sound good to me!”

“Ok, done deal.”

It seemed that these guys might just work out after all. I told Tom as we boarded the boat that they had promised to stay out of our way yet be close by if and when needed. The one guy I spoke with said his name was Joseph and his brother’s name was Brian.

While sitting down below, I was looking over a large index card that I had written my loosely formed plans on.

“Damn, I kind of wish I had somebody like Steve here to help us,” I said aloud.

The words no sooner came out of my mouth than I was up from my seat and headed topside. Once up out of the boat I saw Brian sitting somewhat relaxed on the back of the boat.

“Where’s your brother?” I asked him.

“He up workin’ on his stereo system,” he informed me.

“Well, go get him,” I said in an excited voice. “I need to ask him something.”

 As Brian went running down the dock, Tom came up and asked what was going on.

“Well, these guys grew up here. They are attracted to those with cash. I’m thinking they might know a lot more than I first figured they would.”

I guess my voice indicated urgency because in no time I could see Joseph and Brian both running back down the dock towards the boat.

“Problem?” Joseph asked as he stepped on to the boat.

“No, man, I was just thinking that since you grew up here you must know just about everybody who lives here.”

“Well, not everyone but we do know a lot of people.”

“Ok, well I got a friend who says he lives here but I don’t have an address for him.”

“Well, what his name be?” Joseph asked.

“It’s André.”

“André?” he laughed. “Mon, this is a French island, André big French name – way too many Andrés. What André’s last name be?”

“LaBlanc,” I said.

“Oh, mon, that no help.”

“Hey, wait a minute.” I ran back down below and grabbed a picture of Bruce.

What the hell, I thought, as I came back topside, I handed Joseph Bruce’s picture.

“This André?” he asked.

“No, it’s another friend but this guy and André are friends.”

“I see this guy before,” Joseph exclaimed. “Been awhile but I see him before.”

He showed Brian the picture of Bruce and he, too, said that he had seen Bruce before on this island.

I remembered the quick glance I had of André’s passport photo in the dresser drawer in the house in Nassau and remembered that André sported an unusual handlebar mustache.

“Joseph, André have mustache like this,” I said as I twirled the ends of my own overgrown lip hair.

“Yeah, mon!” he said excitedly. “I think I know who you speak of. He over at big airport.”

“Airport?” I asked.

“Yeah, mon. He have big planes there.”

OK, hold on, I thought.

“Planes? You mean more than one airplane?”

“Yeah, mon. Big, big airplane and old, too, mon. He have two big old airplanes.”

“These planes,” I said, they sit like this or like this?” as I held my hand level and then tilted.

“Like that man,” he said.

“Like this,” I asked again. “With a wheel in the back of the plane?”

“Yeah, just like that.”

Damn, I thought. It was a DC3 that dropped those bales of pot down into the water that morning almost six weeks ago and here are two DC3s that appear to be owned by Bruce’s friend André.

Man, we are right on top of it now, I thought to myself.

“OK, alright, hold on.”

I was sitting there rubbing my forehead trying to figure my next move. I was feeling an urgency to do something.

“OK,” I said. “Let’s take a ride to the airport. I’ll meet you at the end of the pier in 5 minutes.”

Although it was now nearly 10:30 at night, I felt the need to at least go and see these airplanes, and possibly André, for myself.

Even this late at night the airport was all lighted up and I could see a large airplane taxiing into position for its takeoff. The airport didn’t afford much in the way of security and Joseph was able to drive right into the hangar area at the end of the airport.

As we got closer I could see a DC3 sitting there. It was the only one there. When I asked Joseph about there being two of them, he assured me that there were two and that they flew them on a regular basis. He stopped the car right next to the plane and pointed over to the office building that André worked out of. It was closed up and no lights indicated that no one was around tonight.

“Oh, well,” I said, “we’ll come back tomorrow.”

Joseph offered to take us to Philipsburg where he assured us the nightlife was, but both Tom’s and my ass were dragging from a long day. Back at the boat, Brian was still sitting watch over the boat. I paid both of them before they left and asked them to meet us here tomorrow around ten a.m. With that they left and I headed for some well-deserved sleep.

The next day I awoke to a bustle of activity on the dock. Not only were each of the boats front and rear of us making preparations to leave but the marina restaurant which was a popular breakfast place had people waiting in line to be seated. It was about 9:30 and as I was sitting topside taking it all in, I noticed Joseph and his brother making their way towards the boat.

“Here,” he said as he stepped on board. It was a bag containing two large cups of coffee.

“Very good coffee,” he assured me.

“Hey, thanks man,” I said as I pulled one of the cups from the bag.

“This place seems pretty popular,” I said pointing up at the crowd gathering at the entrance to the restaurant.

“It’s ok.” he said shrugging his shoulders. “You want good breakfast, you go to Drew’s,” he said.

“Drew’s?” I asked.

“Yeah, mon, over in French Cul-de-Sac. Very good breakfast.”

“Well, Drew’s it is then!” I exclaimed. “Let me get Tom.”

As I turned to go below, Tom appeared in the companionway.

“Did I hear something about breakfast?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said handing him the bag with the other cup of coffee in it.

“What’s this?”

“Coffee,” I said, “from Joseph.”

I explained to Brian before we left that there was a refrigerator under the side seating area and there was stuff in there to drink and eat and that he was welcome to help himself. I wasn’t comfortable leaving the down below deck part of the boat unlocked when we weren’t there. After all we had money and guns there and I really didn’t trust anyone other than Tom.

Seeing the island during the day on our drive to French Cul-de-Sac was a lot nicer than our drive to the airport the night before. The main road pretty much ran around the edge of the island. This island was much different from the islands in the Bahamas. Here there were very steep hills that afforded great views at the top of every one.

Joseph’s little Citron car struggled to climb. For the most part the major road followed the shoreline where most of the tourist activity was and most of the people that lived there lived inland and in the hillier parts of the island. We passed through Grand Case which was a small town built right up on the beach.

I was impressed at how clean it appeared. All the homes there were very well taken care of and festively painted in bright colors. At one time, I thought, someone stood there looking out into this beautiful bay and decided it would be a great place to live.  Then others followed suit and a town was made.

Drew’s restaurant sat right next to the road and did not look much like any restaurant I had ever been to before. The windows were literally shutters that lifted up and out. It looked more like a shed than an eating establishment. Once inside and seated though, I totally understood the reason for the shutter design. Drew’s sat on a hilly part of the road and that particular part of the hill afforded an unrestricted view out and over that part of the island right to the ocean.

Wow, I thought, this is great! Joseph was right about the food, as well. With stomach full, my attention turned to the plan of the day which was to go to the airport to see if the other DC3 had returned from its flight and to talk to this André character.

The airport was bustling with activity and I could see hundreds of people coming and going from the main terminal. As we rounded the corner of one of the hangars, I could see both DC3s sitting there in front of the office which now had its front door propped open.

Ok, I thought, this is it. Our first real contact with someone connected to everything that’s going on. The anticipation was too much and I told Joseph to stop the car.

“Pull over there,” I told him. I needed a minute to think about my approach to the situation at hand.

“Ok,” I said. “Let’s keep the car here and walk over.”

As the three of us made our way over I asked Joseph which side of the island would be a better place to get arrested.

“Oh, this side,” he said. “For sure. The gendarme or army, they very serious. This side Dutch, much better place to deal with that sort of thing.”

I wasn’t sure why I had asked but I knew that part of me wanted to rough up this guy André for what had happened to me and Steve back at André’s place in Nassau. With that, I asked Joseph to wait for us in the car.

“Sure thing,” he said as he turned back towards where we had parked.

He turned around quick enough it made me believe he didn’t want any part of what might happen in the next minute or two. When I was about twenty feet from the door, a man walked out through it and the guy looked just like the passport picture I had seen that morning. Just as I was going to shout out his name he looked up at us and was visibly taken back at the sight of us.

“Terry?” he asked. What the fuck? I thought, but before I could react he ran over and was telling me, “We thought you were dead.”

“How do you know my name?” I demanded.

“I’m André”.

“I know who you are,” I snapped back.

“I’m a friend of Bruce’s.”

“I know that, too, but how do you know me?” I asked again.

“Well, we have never met but remember that night when Bruce stopped and gave you a ride when your motorcycle broke down? Well, I was driving the other car.”

I did remember the second car but never did inquire of Bruce or know what that was all about.

“Yes, I remember a second car. What happened to Bruce?” I asked.

“Well, there’s a problem.”

“Is he alive?” I demanded.

“Yes, but he’s not well.”

“Listen to me, André. I need to know what the fuck is going on here. Right from the beginning to now.”

“Come inside and I’ll tell you what I know,” he assured me.

Once inside the small office I asked again. “Alright, tell us everything that has happened since you saw me getting into Bruce’s car that night on the highway in South Florida.”

“Ok, we, Bruce and I, as well as Kevin, were coming back from Everglades City where we had a meeting with a guy by the name of Bishop.”

Bishop, I thought, then remembered that was a name I heard Kevin mention to Bruce that morning in the boat. He had said to Bruce that he hoped there would be no trouble with Bishop.

“So who’s this Bishop?” I asked André.

“He was a business partner of ours.”

“You and Bruce?” I asked.

Before André could answer I said, “Look man, don’t bullshit me about anything. I know Bruce was involved with illegal stuff. We’re here on account of his old man who hired us to find him. I want to know everything and where is Bruce, anyhow?”

“He is on the next island over – St. Barts being held by Bishop.”

“Bishop?” I asked.

“Yes, let me explain.”

André then explained that their meeting in Everglades City that night did not go well. When they proposed dissolving their partnership, Bishop threatened them.

“What kind of threat?”

“Well, let me go back a ways,” André said.

“Back in the mid-70s Bruce and I meet in Nassau. Our parents both had vacation homes near each other and Bruce and I became friends. As we got into our teens we started smoking pot and soon we were bringing pot from the island back into the States at the end of every summer. One thing led to another and by the time we were out of high school we were traveling back and forth between the Bahamas and South Florida on a regular basis with pot.

“As things escalated we started using boats and traveling from the Bahamas to South Florida where we would unload pot onto the shores of the Intracoastal in undeveloped areas along the river. The problem was that a lot of other people were doing the same thing and soon that whole southeast coast of Florida was a hot spot for being busted.

“Through the years and connections we met this guy Bishop who had set up runs into the southwest part of Florida where there were a lot more undeveloped areas. He knew the waters there well and we three became partners. Originally we were moving Jamaican weed but the Jamaican weed was not packed well and the supply had become unreliable.

“Bishop had made connections in Colombia and we started funneling weed up through these islands. Eventually though, the distance and the risk of being caught smuggling by boat became much greater.”

André went on to explain that his father had been an airline captain for a major airline. It’s what had actually moved his family from France to the United States when he was very young.

Growing up around airplanes, it was easy for him to have access to not only learning to fly but later on having access to airplanes. When the distances became greater they decided to transition from the boats to the airplanes.

“We ended up flying weed out of Colombia to the Bahamas, then using boats to bring it into the States. This was going well for many years but about a year ago Bishop wanted to get involved with the transport of cocaine. Although the money was greater and the loads lighter, Bruce and I were against it.

“We both grew up smoking pot and viewed it as a justifiable business venture but we were both against any transition to coke. We both had used it occasionally but saw it as an addictive drug and both knew people who have problems from it.”

“So what was the Bishop threat?” I asked.

“Well, that night in Everglades City he told us we were risking our lives if we didn’t do the transition. We left there that night with the intentions of cutting all ties with Bishop.”

“Ok, so if Bishop’s in Everglades City, then who were the people in the other boat shooting at us that morning?”

“When we reached West Palm Beach that night, I headed for the airport to catch a flight to St. Thomas. Bruce, you and Kevin went and got the boat and headed for Walker Cay. One of the DC3s was at the St. Thomas airport. I then flew up to meet with you guys and it was me that dropped the bales which you guys were retrieving.”

“So, how does Bishop figure into that?” I asked.

“Bishop knew we had about 20 bales of pot left on the plane and he knew we were going to be off-loading the pot from the plane to the boat in that area. We never believed he would actually kill someone over our refusal. We needed to unload the pot which was going to be our last drop.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Were you getting out of the business?”

“Well, our weed connection in Colombia is actually Bishop’s so that would be in jeopardy if we didn’t go along with him and, yes, through the years, these two DC3s have actually created a legitimate business. We move a lot of cargo around the larger islands and take scrap metal and aluminum back to the States.”

“Scrap metal?” I asked.

“Yeah, mostly empty aluminum beer and soda cans,” André informed me.

“Ok, so we were in the islands being shot at. How did Bishop know where and when and how the fuck did he get there as quick as we did?”

“Walker Cay has always been our rendezvous place and he had some of his men from Nassau meet you guys there. In hindsight, when they heard the plane they honed in on you guys.”

“So let me understand this,” I said. “You and Bruce say no to this guy Bishop and he then kills you. How does that help him or persuade you guys if you’re both dead?”

“Well, Bishop tells me that Bruce got shot by accident and that it was actually you and Kevin that were supposed to be killed.”

“What?” I exclaimed.

“Yes, you and Kevin were viewed as the cost of doing business. Bishop wanted to show Bruce he was serious.”

“Ok, so now Kevin’s dead, I’m supposed to be dead and they’re holding Bruce captive. I don’t get it.”

“Well, for the past month they have been holding Bruce sort of as a ransom until I complete a certain number of things for Bishop.”

“Things?” I asked.

 “Yes, Bishop figures if I smuggle enough cocaine product into the United States it will entrench me enough into the process that he will have enough leverage on us to let Bruce go free.”

“So how many of these things have you done so far?” I asked André.

“I’ve made three trips so far into the Lauderdale airport with his product. I have three more trips there to complete our agreement. The problem is that each time the scrutiny at the airport is becoming more intense. I think the likelihood of me getting busted is very high.”

“And, if you tell Bishop no more, what then?” I asked.

“He assured me that Bruce would be a dead man and the film along with the pictures that were taken of the cocaine being loaded onto my planes would be turned over to the authorities.”

“Alright, so isn’t St. Barts just south of here?” I asked.

“Yes, why?” André asked.

“Well, I’m thinking of going there. Do you know exactly where Bruce is?”

“Yeah, but if you go there it’s only going to make things worse than they already are.”

“I’m just going as a tourist for now,” I assured André. “They don’t know me or Tom. I’ll need an address from you and maybe some directions. Tell me this, André, how do you know Bruce is still alive anyhow?”

“I spoke with him just a few days ago and he assures me that if we do the six deals Bishop will honor his word. He also said that Bishop intends to use the six deals along with the film and pictures to ensure us doing future business with him.”

After getting the address and directions from André, we headed back to the boat. I told André I would be in touch with him in the next day or so and reassured him that I would be careful not to connect us with him should we run into this guy Bishop while in St. Barts.

“What now?” Tom asked as we left André’s office and headed back toward Joseph’s car.

“Well, I’m thinking we take us a little boat ride to St. Barts and just check things out.”

As we approached Joseph’s car he quickly got out and wanted to know if everything was ok.

“No problem,” I said, trying for my best Jamaican accent.

“No problem,” I said again - this time getting the sound of it down a little better. Joseph and his brother were of the French culture and that was only from living here on this island. They, in fact, looked and acted much more like Jamaicans and Rastafarians, each with dreadlocks that could reach halfway down their backs. For the most part, though, they wore them bundled up under a brightly colored wool hat that was pulled down over their dreads.

The ride back to the marina seemed pretty quick. I now had a load on my mind and trying to figure it all out seemed to distract me from the beautiful scenery the island afforded.

Getting out of the car, with my first glance over to the boat, I noticed Brian talking with a couple of girls. Good for him, I thought. I figured he was just running a line and they were eating up on it. At least he doesn’t have them on the boat, I thought, good man. As we got closer I realized that even from behind these women looked mighty familiar.

“Hey, Tommy,” I said. “ Don’t these . . .” Just then Brian pointed towards us and as the girls turned following his direction, Tom and I could both see it was Evonne and Ava.

Damn, I thought, what are the chances of that? They both ran the rest of the way down the dock and hugged each of us.

“Did you stand me up back in Nassau?” Ava asked me politely.

“Stand you up?” I asked.

 “Yes, when you never showed up back at the boat that morning, I figured perhaps you didn’t want to see me again.”

I then remembered that the morning I was knocked out and tied up I was supposed to meet Tom and the girls back at the boat.

“Oh, no,” I said, “That’s not it at all. I actually ran into a situation that literally had me all tied up.”

She looked at me a bit confused and I assured her I could better explain later but right now it was great seeing them again.

“What are the chances of us running into each other?” I questioned aloud.

“Real good,” Evonne said. “This island is one of the major stop-offs for big cruise ships and this place has the best breakfast in the Caribbean.”

“Second best,” I shot back.

“Second?” the girls asked.

I didn’t actually know that for a fact. Although the boat was tied up here, we hadn’t eaten any of the restaurants’ food yet to know for sure.

“Anyway, where’s your ship?”

“It’s over in Great Bay,” Ava said. “Right off the coast of the town of Philipsburg on the Dutch side.”

“We haven’t gotten over there yet,” Tom informed the girls.

“Yeah, well it’s pretty touristy over there.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, it’s pretty much one main road that’s lined with restaurants, jewelry stores and t-shirt shops,” Ava informed us.

“Joseph tells us the night life is pretty crazy there,” I said.

“Yeah, pretty crazy,” Evonne added. “So what brings you guys way down here?” the girls wanted to know.

“We are still looking for our friend Bruce,” I told them.

“Any luck with that?”

“Well, in fact, yes. We think he is on the next island south of here.”

“St. Barts?” Ava asked.

“Yeah, that’s it,” I said.

“We have always wanted to go there but there is no deep water anchorage for a ship our size.”

“Well, we were headed there tomorrow. Want to go?”

As it turned out Ava and Evonne’s ship would be in anchorage for a few days and that they could go provided they were back by the following evening.

“Great,” I said. “We’ll make a day of it and it will give you a chance to get a ride on this little motorboat.”

“Hey, Joseph, how far is St. Barts from here?” I asked.

“Mon, it only like fifteen mile, very close.”

“It’s that close?” I asked.

“Yeah, mon, you want to see St. Barts?”

“Yeah, well, we will be going there tomorrow,” I informed him.

“No, mon, I show you St. Barts right now.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Come with me, mon, I show you St. Barts and more right from this island.”

“Hold on, how you goin’ to do that?” I wanted to know.

“Come now, I show you.”

He insisted that we all get in his car and I could tell he wanted to treat us to something special.

“Ok,” I said and asked the girls if they wanted to go.

“Yeah, mon, they go, too,” Joseph insisted. Before leaving Joseph asked us to bring our binoculars. At that point I figured he was going to take us to some great high vantage point on the island and figured it was a good thing.

We headed down the same roads we were on earlier on our way to breakfast. This time however, just before entering Grand Case, Joseph turned right onto a hilly dirt road. The further up the road we went, the rougher and narrower it got. Finally the road and hill ran out and there in front of us was this huge tower. It was a red and white tower that appeared to have been there for many, many years.

 Strapped to the tower were various antennas and other devices that led me to believe the tower was still being used. There was no fence around the tower, no warning signs, and no ‘No Trespassing’ signs - just the tower and us five. Turning in a circle I could see we were up pretty high but the scrub brush blocked our view to about twenty feet in any direction.

Looking at Joseph, I asked, “St Barts?”

“Yeah, mon, right up there.”

“You mean climb the tower?”

“Yeah, mon, climb tower.”

Alright, I thought, I can do that. It only took about fifteen feet of tower height and I could see this was going to be good.

“See anything?” They all wanted to know.

“Oh, yeah,” was my reply as I kept climbing to more height.

The tower was all of a couple hundred feet high but at about fifty feet you didn’t need to climb any higher. This tower was the old fashioned style that started at about 20 by 20 feet at the base and gradually got narrower at the top. At about 50 feet in the air, it was still at least 10 feet on a side with plenty of stuff to hang onto. With encouragement, daring and a promise of an unbelievable view, I was able to coax all to the 50 foot level.

 There we all stood clinched to this tower enjoying far vistas of not only St. Maarten but other neighboring islands, as well. With the aid of the binoculars, I did see St. Barts for the first time.

We must have stood on that tower for a good thirty minutes before someone suggested getting down before getting too tired to do so. Getting back to the car we were all exhausted from the endeavor but all agreed that it was one for the history book.

On the way back to the boat I was thinking of my conversation with André and how much we didn’t talk about. With that in mind I asked Joseph to head back to the airport.

As we were about to enter the airport I noticed a bar right on the beach at the end of the runway. I asked Joseph to stop there first. Once in the parking lot I asked Tom to hang there with the girls while I ran back over to André’s place.

“Sure,” he said. “You gonna be alright?”

“Yeah,” I assured him, “I’ll be back in about an hour.”

With that, Joseph and I headed back toward the hangars and André’s office. It had only been a few hours since we were there and both planes were still in the same place. Entering the office, André was surprised to see me.

“Problem?” he asked.

“No,” I said, “but after our conversation this morning, I realized I still had a lot of unanswered questions.”

“What?” he asked.

“Well, right off, I’d like to know who the fuck knocked me out and locked me in a closet.”

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“Well, what I didn’t tell you is that before coming here we went to Nassau looking for Bruce. There we found a house on Paradise Island where he had been seen. I went there, broke in, found a passport with your name and picture on it. Then got knocked out and locked in a closet.”

André looked genuinely surprised enough by my story that I believed him when he said he knew nothing about it. He was wondering how we had found the house to begin with. He explained that often he or Bruce would go to Nassau either for business or pleasure and the house served for a place to hang out.

When I asked about the passport he explained that he had several different passports he used depending on where he was trying to get in or out of. He figured the guys who knocked us out were most likely Bishop’s men as they knew of the house.

In the course of our conversation we got most things straightened out and I got a sense of André being on the up and up with me although, after the last extension of trust with Bruce, I kept all possibilities open.

“Hey, man,” I heard Tom say. As I turned towards the door, Tom came through it.

“Everything ok in here?” he wanted to know. “When you weren’t back in an hour I decided to come check on you.”

“Yeah man, everything’s cool.”

I didn’t realize it had been that long. It had actually been more than an hour and it was good knowing that Tom had my back.

“Where are the girls?” I asked.

“Back at the bar. We told them we’d be right back so we better get going,” Tom said.

“Ok then, André, we will see you in a couple days and will go from there.”

“Ok, but please don’t jeopardize Bruce’s safety,” André pleaded.

“No problem,” I assured him as we headed back outside.

In the course of our conversation, I had asked André why he didn’t just go and strong-arm Bruce out of the house on St. Barts where he was being held. André was a businessman type but I thought surely he could, with enough money, entice enough muscle to do the job for him.

André explained that he feared the repercussions of Bishop both in the form of violence as well as the evidence he was holding which would incriminate him and Bruce in the smuggling of cocaine. Apparently Bishop had filmed the three times André had loaded his airplanes with the drugs.

As we headed back out to the car, I was feeling anxious about our trip to St. Barts. André had explained to me that it was a small island and that didn’t lend well to outsiders blending in and not being noticed, especially in the boat we would be arriving in. I wasn’t sure if we wanted to blend in unnoticed or make an entrance that drew some attention. I knew that the Scarab would definitely draw a crowd.

It had every place we had been so far and it seemed that the further south we went there were fewer and fewer of that kind of boat. André had also suggested entering Gustavia Harbor for clearing customs and re-fueling if necessary.

Back at the bar we found the girls watching the sunset from a table out near the water.

“Hey, guys! Watch this,” Ava suggested to us.

“Watch what?” I asked.

“The sunset,” she replied. “Don’t take your eyes off the sun as it drops below the horizon.”

“I’ve seen a lot of sunsets over water before,” I informed her.

“Well, you’ve seen the flash before then?” she asked.

“Flash?” I replied in a questioning tone.

“Ok, watch, watch,” she said.

We all sat there as the last portion of the sun disappeared below the horizon. At the very last second a bright flash appeared on the horizon - kind of like a flashbulb going off.

“Wow!” we all exclaimed.

It was great. Here I was in my early 30’s and I had never taken notice or knew about such things. A simple time like that moment would always humble me and leave with me a moment I would remember the rest of my life.

After another round of drinks we headed back to the boat. Again, Brian was relaxed up topside listening to some Reggae music from his boom box. He was very discreet and had the volume down low enough as to not be bothering the people on the other boats.

Nice, I thought to myself. It’s nice when people just know how to act. Meeting Joseph and his brother couldn’t have worked out any better. Walking down the dock I could see that Tom was once again going to be a lucky man. He and Evonne were exchanging affections and, like many times before, I wished that I could share his casual attitude about life and relationships.

It wasn’t just the women in his life that he shared this attitude about. Tom never seemed to get attached to anything, whether it was a car, guitar, motorcycle or women. I, on the other hand, I tended to get attached to most everything.

I figured coming from a large family and having to hustle for everything I ever wanted made me more protective of whatever I did get. I was real careful about anyone driving any car I ever owned and surely no one else rode my old panhead. I also tended to be very loyal and it was those emotions that night that were truly being tested.

After Joseph and his brother left and Tom and Evonne headed down below, Ava and I sat up topside. I knew I could be lucky that night, as well. I could strongly sense that Ava was ready and willing to accept my advances. It became obvious when suddenly we were embraced and sharing a long kiss. I found myself giving in and the feeling of that embrace was good. I was enjoying the moment.

“Wow,” I said as I pushed myself from her arms. “You don’t know how badly I want to do this but I just can’t.”

Damn, I thought. I can be an asshole and a lot of other things but I just can’t be unfaithful to someone who believes in me. And that’s what it really came down to. Linda put up with me doing and not doing just about anything but she trusted me. That trust I valued and respected enough not to want to tarnish it. It wasn’t a matter of her never knowing or finding out. It was me knowing it. Ava understood and, like many times before, questioned aloud, “Why couldn’t she find a man like me?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” I said. “It’s only because there only a few stupid men like me that would pass up a woman like you.”

“Oh, that’s sweet,” she said.

“Yeah, well, if I was ever going to jeopardize a relationship, it would be for somebody as nice as you,” I told her.

Despite everything, we both fell asleep that night in each other’s arms.

The next day the four of us got up and waited in line at the marina restaurant for breakfast. It was equally as good as Drew’s but couldn’t compare with the views of the ocean that Drew’s afforded.

By the time we finished breakfast Joseph and Brian showed up. I hadn’t even considered whether or not they would be going with us to St. Barts. After discussing it with Tom, we decided it would be best taking just Joseph with us. When I explained to Joseph no need for his brother that day he informed us that Brian didn’t care much for being out on the ocean anyway.

“He no like boat, he no like the water, mon,” he said.

I handed Brian a $100 bill and he was more than happy. So with no one’s feelings hurt, we cleared customs and headed out of the pass and into open ocean. The ocean was calm and on our way over to St. Barts we passed a couple of water taxis which were ferrying as many as thirty passengers to and from St. Maarten and St. Barts. Everybody on board had drinks in their hands and big smiles on their faces. As we passed we all exchanged big waves to each other.

Nice, I thought. Even for a couple weeks a year to come down here and experience these islands is a good thing. Someday, I thought, I wouldn’t mind coming back down here and spending some laid back time. Then I thought how nice it would be to bring Linda here when I didn’t have a mission to accomplish and just kick back. She would love this, I thought.

With that in mind, I was a little surprised when Ava came up behind me while I was busy steering the boat and lost in a day dream.

“You look so serious,” she said as she put her arms around me and pulled herself closer up against my back. That feels good, I thought to myself.

“No just thinking about where we will be able to tie up to,” I said to her.

André had informed me that Gustavia Harbor was the main anchorage but that dock facilities were very limited. The distance between the islands was only about twelve miles or so and we were there in no time at all.