ESCAPE FROM AMBERGRIS CAYE (22 page)

Zac left
the room and sauntered past a beefy man reading a magazine. He glanced up.
"Good evening, sir. Going out?"

Brilliant
observation. What's it look like, asshole?
"I need a cigarette." The rooms were strictly no smoking.

"I
hear
ya
, buddy. Wish I could join you but I ..."
suddenly seeming to realize he might be revealing too much, he paused, then
said, "I'm waiting for my wife. She'll raise all sorts of hell if she comes
out and I’m not here."

Sure,
and I'm the Easter Bunny.
Zac nodded then
shook his head. "Women. They’re all alike. Catch
ya
later."

Zac’s
heart beat wildly as he waited, the car motor purred softly.
What if they
can't find me? What if they'd been caught? Do I have a Plan B? Of course not.
Fly by the seat of my pants like always. Only this time it won't mean a night
in jail or Mom’s look of disapproval. This time it’s a matter of ...
He
heard footsteps approach and desperately hoped it was his brother and the
girl—not thugs coming to beat the crap out of him.

The
parking lot wasn't well lit, so he had a hard time seeing who approached.
Frozen in place, his hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, all he could
do was wait.

A minute
later—a lifetime to Zac—Jackson opened the car door. Izzie climbed in back.

"Quick,
get on the floor and cover up with that blanket," Zac said. He put several
boxes containing a few articles of clothing and "souvenirs" he'd
purchased earlier on top of her, hoping to mask her presence in case they were
stopped.

Shifting
into "drive" he switched the headlights on, sent up a quick prayer
and started their ten-mile journey back to the only town on Ambergris Caye.
Each time he hit a pothole, Izzie groaned.

"I'm
sorry, I'm sorry," Zac said for what seemed like the one-hundredth time.
"It won't be too much longer."

The road
was pitch black without a single street light to guide them, making it
impossible to avoid craters and ruts that seemed everywhere. He swerved
whenever one was caught in the headlights, making the ride even more dangerous
as the little car didn't take kindly to evasive action.

Twenty
minutes later, as the lights of San Pedro glimmered in the distance, headlights
from an automobile approaching rapidly from behind reflected in the rear-view
mirror.

“Oh
shit,” Zac murmured under his breath.

“What’s
wrong?” Jackson said.

“That
must be them. They’re coming to get her. Now what do we do?”

The road
was narrow, barely wide enough for two cars riding alongside each other.

“I could
straddle the middle and prevent them from cutting us off. What do you think?”

Jackson
thought a moment too long. The vehicle was now less than three car-lengths
back, its headlights nearly blinding them, making it difficult to see the road.

“What’s
wrong?” Izzie sat up. “Is it them? Are they coming to get me? Please don’t let
them …” her voice trailed off. “I can’t go back, Jackson. I’d rather die than
go back there. Please…”

“Get
down, get down.” Zac was in a panic. Sweat drenched his hands making the
steering wheel slippery.
What the hell was he going to do? How could he
defend this helpless woman against those thugs?
He didn’t have a gun, or a
weapon of any kind. All he had was his fists—and his mouth.

He
attempted to speed up, but multiple potholes made it impossible. Between
swerving and trying to outrun the rapidly approaching auto, Zac feared he’d
lose control and the car would roll, crushing them in the process.

As the
oncoming vehicle caught up with them and began to pass, Zac braced himself, his
foot hovering over the brakes.

“Hold
on,” he cautioned Jackson. But instead of cutting them off and grabbing Izzie,
it kept right on going.

Adrenalin,
along with a sense of relief pumped through his body long after the tail lights
disappeared in the distance. Zac could hardly believe it, then, glancing at the
dashboard clock he realized it was only nine. Idiot! They hadn’t discovered
Izzie’s escape; no one was searching for them—yet.

They drove into San Pedro unnoticed
by a population preoccupied with having a good time. The bars were hopping, the
gift shops still open and crowded with tourists. No one took a second glance at
the bedraggled trio desperate to escape the island.

Zac drove slowly in contrast to his
racing mind:
What now? Where to hide?
How to get
outta
here before they were discovered and all hell broke loose.

“So, we going back to the hotel?”
Jackson said.

When Zac didn’t answer, Izzie
pleaded, “We’ve gotta find some place to hide and fast. If those guys catch us,
they’ll kill you, and beat me again.”

“I know,” Zac said in the most
reassuring tone he could muster. Reassuring?
He didn’t know what the
hell he was going to do. Panic rose inside, his heart drummed in his ears.

“Zac, what are you…” Jackson
started to say when Zac interrupted him.

“Shut the hell up, both of you. Let
me think.” He regretted the words as soon as they flew from his mouth, but it
was the truth. How could he figure this out with the two of them ragging on
him? He knew only too well what was at stake if they failed to get away. In
case they didn’t realize it, theirs were not the only lives in jeopardy—his was
too.

The car fell silent as he collected
his thoughts. Glancing at them both, he could see by their expressions how
frightened they were. But knowing that didn’t solve anything. He had to find a
place to hide until he figured out how to get off this damned island, and he
had to do it quick.

As he rummaged around for a
solution, Charlie’s face flashed before his mind’s eye. He remembered the man
had said, “If you want to get together, I’m staying at the Hotel del Rio over
on the beach, north of Central Park.” He said he’d be there a couple days and
offered to help if Zac needed him. Well, he needed him. Now if he could locate
the place and find Charlie, they just might get out of this alive.

Zach followed Barrier Reef Drive
north about three quarters of a mile and easily found the place. With its
distinctive thatched-roof design, it would be hard to miss. Driving into the
parking lot, he warned Jackson and Izzie to stay put.

“I’ll come get you when
everything’s settled. In the meantime, don’t talk to anybody, and—don’t under
any circumstances go wandering around. Understand?” It’d be just like his
brother and that idiot reporter to decide to check things out. It appeared to
be a cool place and they were beginning to get their sea legs. Hopefully he’d
locate Charlie and they could somehow figure out what to do.

Zac went into the lobby and told
the concierge he was trying to find a man named Charlie who was the first mate
on a yacht and staying there a few days. At first the guy just stared at him as
if he’d lost his mind. There were, after all, countless yachts docked on the
island, how could he be expected to remember one guest? But after Zac described
Charlie, he became more animated.

“I know who you’re looking for. He
stays with us whenever his captain has a layover. He really likes it here.” He
gestured to the spacious surroundings.

“Can’t say I blame him,” Zac said
wanting to hurry the man along without offending him. “So, could you ring his
room and see if he’s in?”

“No problem.” He spoke into the
phone, then said, “He wants to know
who’s
asking.”

“Tell him it’s Zac, the guy who
came to Belize with him on the yacht. He’ll know.”

After a brief conversation, the man
nodded and hung up the phone. “He says to come right over. He’s staying in the
Palms Veranda.” He provided directions to the unit and Zac headed out,
heartened that his luck was holding. Now if Charlie could help them get
outta
here, life would be damned near perfect.

As they waited for Charlie to open
the door, Jackson glanced around. “This place’s really cool.” The units had
thatched roofs reminiscent of the primitive structures traditionally used in
Belize. Lush tropical foliage camouflaged verandas facing the ocean.

“Yeah,” Zac agreed, beginning to
feel uneasy. He wondered what was taking Charlie so long. Probably taking a
crap. He was about to knock again when the door opened.

“Charlie, my man. Am I ever glad to
see
you.
”

Charlie waved them in as Zac
introduced him to Jackson and Izzie.

“This here’s my brother, Jackson
and his… uh, friend, Izzie.”

“Good to meet you,” Charlie said.
“Make yourself at home. Want something to drink? I have soda and beer.”

When no one took him up on his
offer, he said, “What’s this about? By the looks of you, I can tell it’s not a
social visit.”

“You got that right,” Zac said.
“We’re in deep shit and need your help.”

“What’d you do, rob a bank?” Charlie
said it with a twinkle in his eyes that disappeared when Zac didn’t laugh.

“Worse.”

“Worse? You kill someone?”

“No, but if we don’t get off this
island, lives will be lost and I’m pretty sure it’s going to be ours.”

All hint of amusement left Charlie’s
face. “You talking about a drug deal gone bad? I warned you to stay away from
that crowd, didn’t I?”

“You did and that’s not it.” Zac
said. “Remember the trunk on the yacht?”

“What about it?”

“Jackson was inside, being smuggled
into the country and sold to traffickers. Same thing happened to Izzie earlier.
I managed to buy Jackson back and we just rescued Izzie from the Dias Del Sol,
but any minute now the traffickers will realize she’s gone and they’ll come
looking for us. We gotta get out of here before they do.”

Listening intently, Charlie looked
from Jackson to Izzie and back again. “My God, how awful. You all right?”

“We are at the moment, but if they
catch us, we’re as good as dead,” Jackson said, bruises still visible on his
face and arms.

Charlie thought a moment. “I have
an idea. Stay here. Don’t open the door for anyone. I’ll be right back.”

Zac heaved a sigh of relief. If
anyone could get them out of this, Charlie could. He seemed like the type that
would give you the shirt off his back; a real salt of the earth
kinda
guy. Thank God he’d run into him at Mo’s. Funny how
things work out.

Half an hour later, there was a
tap-tap-tap on the door and a voice quietly announced, “It’s me, Charlie.”

Jackson opened the door to find
Charlie, accompanied by two rough-looking men.

“Zac,” one of them said. “Good to
see you again.”

Zac’s heart dropped as Mo walked
in. He could scarcely believe his eyes. Charlie, the man he’d trusted with his
life, had sold them out. Their last best hope of escape had just evaporated.

“Charlie, why?” he said. “You said
you’d help us. I believed you. Why’re you doing this?”

“Shut up,” Mo said. “You got a
lotta
nerve saying that after telling me you only sleep
with white women.” He put his face inches from Zac’s, his fists clinched. “I
went out on a limb for you with Sid. You got any idea the trouble you caused?”
He gave Zac a long, penetrating stare.

Zac almost felt guilty, as though
he was being scolded by his dad instead of threatened by a vicious criminal.

“You betrayed me. Well, now you’ll
pay for it.”

“Mo, I’m sorry, I really am. Let us
go and I’ll give you all my money. Please.”

Mo shook a fat finger in Zac’s
face. “
Shoulda
thought of that when you decided to
steal her from Sid. Bet you’re not even a contractor, are you?”

When Zac didn’t respond, he said,
“So you lied about that too. Who are these people anyhow?”

A glimmer of hope took hold inside
Zac. Perhaps this horrible man had retained a spark of humanity somewhere
inside. Maybe he’d let them go when he explained who they were.

“This here’s my brother, Jackson
and that’s his friend, Izzie. I’ve come to rescue them.”

“Seriously? How’d they get mixed up
in all this?”

“It’s a long story but basically
they poked their noses in where they didn’t belong. So, Mo, how about it? Can
you find it in your heart to let us go?” Zac desperately wished he’d managed to
connect with whatever heart remained inside this monster.

Mo stared at the three of them for
a long moment, rubbed his chin then came to a decision. “Wish I could, but if I
caved every time I heard a sob story, I’d be
outta
business. No, your white asses are mine,” he indicated Jackson and Zac.

Inclining his head toward Izzie, he
added, “Sid gets his property back.”

Izzie began first to whimper and then
to cry. “No, please. I can’t go back there, please don’t make me.”

“You, bitch, stop blubbering. I
thought you knew your place before I sold you. Do I gotta teach you again?” He
raised his hand to strike her, when Charlie interrupted.

“That’s not necessary, Mo. I’ll
take her back and make sure she understands that if she stops rebelling, she
can begin to enjoy life. I mean, that resort isn’t exactly a slum.”

Facing Charlie, Zac shouted, “You
goddamned son of a bitch, I trusted you. Thought you were my friend.”

“And I thought you were mine,” Mo
interjected. “Guess we were both wrong. Now, let’s get the hell out of here.
Charlie, you take the girl and we’ll take these two morons.” The expression on
his face said he meant it.

The brute of a man who’d been
silent all this time pulled out a gun and pointed it at Zac and Jackson. As he
headed toward the door, Jackson turned and let go a pop to Charlie’s nose.

“Ow.” Charlie yelped as blood
gushed down the front of his pale blue shirt. “Son of a bitch, you broke my
nose.”

Mo slugged Jackson as the thug with
the pistol kept it trained on Zac, preventing him from joining the melee.

“Let’s get
outta
here before someone calls the cops,” Mo said, forcing Jackson to his feet.
“Let’s go,” he said, “we don’t
got
all night.”

Izzie’s screams and the vision of
her being dragged from the room reverberated inside Jackson long after pain
from the blow subsided. As he and Zac returned to the site from which he’d so
recently been rescued, fear for her fate overwhelmed concern for his own—a
prospect so bleak that to say it was hopeless would, in truth, be accurate.