Authors: Glen Robins
George Town, Grand Cayman Island
June 13, 4:55 p.m. Caribbean Time
Collin Cook had returned to the only place on Earth he felt at home anymore. Having spent nearly two weeks with the Captain and crew of the
Admiral Risty
—a for-hire, sixty-foot, fully appointed sailboat based in the Cayman Islands—and having escaped his pursuers on two different occasions with the help of the
Admiral
’s crew, it was a comfortable place for him to return. As he exited the taxi on the street overlooking the George Town Marina and surveyed the boat and its surroundings from a distance, scenes from recent experiences onboard the
Admiral
welled up. He stopped and leaned along the railing to watch the Captain and the crew, who had come to feel like a father and brothers to him, clean and polish the majestic sailboat and to check for any sign of a trap. It almost felt like returning home.
Collin strode purposefully down the docks toward the
Admiral Risty
, keeping a keen eye for anything out of the ordinary. Everything he owned fit into a backpack and computer bag, both slung over his left shoulder. He leaned to the right as he walked to keep the bags from slipping off, reminiscing all the way. The reggae music blaring from the boat’s speakers, which could be heard from a hundred yards away, and the banter between the crewmates as they worked, helped set Collin’s worried mind at ease as he approached. He looked forward to reuniting with them, but he did not want them to recognize him yet.
Collin turned from the main promenade to the narrower access walkway on the port side of the boat and tried to remain cool and calm as he asked to speak to the Captain. When Captain Sewell stepped forward and introduced himself, Collin handed him a thick envelope. His disguise was working so far. The Captain eyed the envelope warily before he opened it and found a handwritten note inside. The note asked if he could rejoin the crew and offered to return the dinghy. The Captain examined the note, then the man who handed it to him. He also examined the wad of cash that accompanied the note. It all clicked into place, causing his face to light up as he welcomed the man aboard the
Admiral Risty
as if he were the prodigal son
,
a smile stretching from ear to ear as he shook his hand and patted his shoulder, exclaiming, “We always have room for you, wanderer.”
But the Captain’s jovial smile quickly faded. Collin frowned and shook his head slightly, his index finger to his lips. Collin’s demeanor and movements were unnatural and uncharacteristic. Collin could see from the expression on the Captain’s face that he was curious about Collin’s guarded approach. Collin wanted more than anything to exult in the warmth of their reunion, but he kept a serious countenance as he moved purposefully toward the cabin.
The Captain cocked his head at Collin and looked unsure of how to react. Without a word, Collin pointed down the steps toward the cabin, signaling for the Captain to follow him.
Collin, dressed as one of the elite businessmen of the islands, sporting a dark brown, neatly trimmed goatee, insisted the Captain and crew shove off immediately. His voice matched his looks. Both were hardened, cool, and aloof. Even his accent carried an air of superiority and affluence. Collin’s commands, grim countenance, and decisive tone were echoed by the Captain. The crew hesitated, as if unsure of the intentions of this stranger. The puzzled looks on their faces displayed the sudden atmospheric change. The Captain barked again and the men began obeying his orders and preparing the
Admiral
for an immediate departure.
The crew scurried about the deck, attending to their assigned duties, sizing up this new customer. Theirs was not to question; only to follow their skipper’s orders. His boat, his rules.
Captain Sewell followed Collin, who had become his best customer, into the cabin below deck. “Why so serious, man? You should be happy. I’m happy. You’re not dead,” he said with a forced chuckle.
“Yeah, I should be happy, right?” said Collin as he opened the secret compartment in the wall of the lower bunk and began to stuff his bags into it. “You don’t mind if I stick this in here, do you?”
“Be my guest.”
“I’m a bit leery these days,” said Collin as he worked the computer bag into place. “I always feel like someone’s watching me, ready to get me. Know what I mean? I guess these last few months have made me paranoid.”
“I was worried about you, man,” said the Captain, his voice growing serious. “That was a dangerous move, driving the dinghy into the storm like that. I thought that was it. You were gone forever.”
When the Captain paused, Collin jumped in, trying to lighten the mood. The last thing he needed right now was high emotion. “You thought you wouldn’t ever see the money I owe you.” He forced a laugh, but the Captain only lifted an eyebrow and tilted his head.
“We have traveled many miles together. We have shared many stories, many meals, and much laughter. It is not about the money now. You know that. You are part of this family,” said the Captain, opening his arms and gesturing toward the men above them on the deck. “You are one of us.”
Collin stopped in his tracks, looked the Captain in the eye, and nodded his head as he spoke. “I know. That’s why I came back. If I can’t be home helping my sick mom, I want to be here, helping my friends. Plus, I never got the chance to thank you and the crew for risking your lives to help me get out of Florida. I’d be rotting in a jail somewhere if it weren’t for you guys.”
The Captain paused a moment, deep in thought. “Remember how you told me I could do dinner cruises any time, but I would be happier finding adventure?”
“Yeah, kind of.” Collin was pulling items out of his bags as he spoke. They were too bulky to fit in the secret compartment. He dropped a worn T-shirt and his favorite cargo shorts on the bed next to his bag and removed the linen sport coat and the fancy button-up shirt. He finished changing while the Captain spoke.
“Well, you were right, man. Always sailing to the same places, serving the same meals, pandering to the rich American and European tourists gets to be very boring. Safe and profitable, but boring. With you, things are different. The men see it, too. Because you help them, cook for them, tell them stories, make them laugh. You listen to them. That is very different from other customers. You treat them with respect. That is why they are willing to do great things for you. You are their friend, their brother.”
Collin smiled as he absorbed the sentiment of those words. “I know. I feel the same way. But this time, there will be no need to do great things for me. This time, we’ll relax and enjoy the ride. A real sailing trip. You know, a leisure tour, like your other clients. Only much, much longer.”
“Ah, yes,” said the Captain with a smile. “That will be nice.”
“Perfect. But I do want to get out of here as soon as possible. Is that all right?”
“Of course, man,” said the Captain in his customary lilt. “We push off very soon. The question is, where are we going?”
“I don’t have much of a preference. I’m fine if we just stay lost for a month or two. I need to stay below the radar for a while, you know, off the grid. I need time to let the dust settle and come up with a game plan. So it doesn’t matter much to me where we go. Let’s see something new.”
“Well, I suggest we head to the east side of the Caribbean. There are thousands of small islands there, full of pleasure cruisers. No one will notice you, my friend. You can remain safely anonymous.”
“Sounds great. How much?”
The Captain laughed out loud, waved a dismissive hand at the air, then turned on his heels and climbed the steps up to the cockpit. He switched on his instrumentation as he sat in the padded Captain’s chair behind the large steering wheel. “Rojas, Jaime. Are we ready?”
“Aye, Captain,” the two said in unison as they hopped to the dock and moved toward the tie lines.
Captain Sewell fired up the boat’s small engine so he could maneuver out of the harbor. It chugged and sputtered as it came to life, throwing out a blue cloud of fumes.
“Miguel, Tog. Man your stations,” he bellowed in his hearty, baritone voice.
“Aye, sir,” they called back one at a time. Each man scurried into position, one at the bow, one at the stern.
Jaime and Rojas untied the ropes from the dock cleats fore and aft and gently guided the
Admiral
out of its slip as Captain Sewell started up the little engine. Neither of them noticed the activity on the boat in the next slip.
After the Captain went topside, Collin pulled the contents out of the computer bag and backpack. He had placed a few items of clothing, the dozen false passports he owned, his laptop, and $500,000 worth of cash into the overstuffed bags before coming to the marina. They were too bulky to fit in the compartment, so he began to repack things into a large waterproof sea bag the Captain had loaned him on their last voyage. Moving quickly, he reloaded his computer, the money, and his passports into the long, cylindrical sea bag, then crammed it into the smuggler’s hideaway, as the crew called it. With those items out of the way, he tossed the nearly empty computer bag in a closet.
One of the items Collin had removed from his backpack was a small waterproof pouch which contained his iPhone, a seaworthy GPS unit, and a few thousand dollars in several different currencies. He tugged at its sides and nodded to himself. Collin pulled a cheap cell phone he had purchased in Chicago from the pocket of his blazer and checked that it had a full charge. Its twin was in Emily’s possession. As he squeezed the little phone into the small sea pouch with his iPhone, a strange commotion erupted on the deck above. Loud footfalls on the fiberglass hull at the bow were rushing toward the stern. Commands were barked out by an unfamiliar voice in short, guttural bursts. Sensing danger, Collin grabbed the waterproof pouch and jumped down two steps to the galley. He swung open the door to the microwave oven, reached to the back, pushed on two soft buttons to release the latches, and shoved the pouch in the secret compartment behind the back wall of the microwave.
Captain Sewell had purchased this boat at auction and later learned it had been confiscated by the DEA during a drug bust. Unbeknownst to the Captain at the time of purchase, the original owner had designed features into this boat necessary for his trade. Jaime had shown Collin these secret compartments and he had used them to his advantage on previous occasions.
Both hands were inside the oven when an angry voice barked something he didn’t understand. Collin whirled around, slamming the door shut with his elbow, to stare down the muzzle of a snub-nosed, semi-automatic Uzi pointed right at his face. The ill-tempered Asian man carrying it glared disapprovingly at him. Collin’s hands shot straight up in the air. There was no other option but to surrender and trust that God would somehow deliver him again.
The gunman approached suspiciously, making as wide an arc as he could in the tight quarters below decks. He wore a flowered shirt and a straw hat, but the rippling biceps and the thick chest indicated he was something more than a tourist. Using the weapon as a pointer, the man motioned for Collin to move toward the stairs, using quick jabs in the air and short, unintelligible grunts. Checking his surroundings, he then maneuvered like a stalking panther in a slow semicircle opposite his prey. When Collin reached the steps, beyond arm’s reach, he stopped, obeying the gunman’s gesture. The man opened the microwave door and stole a glance inside. Collin’s heart was in his throat, unsure if the back wall had snapped shut all the way. If his phones and laptop were discovered, it would be all over. Pho Nam Penh would win because every detail of Collin’s finances was stored on those devices. Penh would crack his sophisticated firewall eventually and know the whereabouts of the nearly $30 million stashed in several banks around the world. The lion’s share of the money, however, was held in a top secret bank in Panama City, Panama, used primarily by the US clandestine community operating in the region. Lukas, with his knowledge of deep cover operations, had helped Collin gain access to this hidden gem. Having the account numbers and pass codes from Collin’s laptop, Penh would have much of what he needed to syphon away everything. Collin maintained safeguards, but Lukas had warned Collin at the beginning to guard that laptop and iPhone with his life. Information on those devices, including the instant messages between Collin and Lukas, could also expose Lukas’s covert operational involvement in the war on terrorism, thus blowing his carefully guarded existence.
It took only seconds for Collin’s already unbalanced existence to shift once again. In that instant, he realized he had placed the life of every man on board the
Admiral Risty
in jeopardy. The feeling of being in total free fall caused him to stagger backward, before catching himself on the bulkhead by the steps. This drew an angry look from the gunman. Collin knew if he didn’t play his cards right, they would all die, Penh’s terror group would receive a healthy round of funding and enough classified information to help them stay under the radar indefinitely. None of these outcomes boded well for Collin, his friends, or his country.
The stocky gunman peered again into the microwave, pulled out a coffee mug, and sniffed its contents. He dumped it into the sink and checked inside the oven again. As he did, Collin forced himself to remain composed and keep a poker face. Disgusted, the man grunted and slammed the door shut. Startled, Collin let out a nervous cough. The gunman’s focus returned to Collin as he climbed the two steps up from the galley.