‘A good analogy,’ said Deane thoughtfully. ‘It’s true that the Ministry of Tourism is perturbed about the fall in the number of visitors lately. So is the Prime Minister — there was a special Cabinet meeting last week. And there’s more political unrest. Fewer tourists means more unemployment, and that is being exploited. But we need evidence — the Prime Minister demands it. Any crack-down without evidence would lead to accusations of police interference in political matters. The Prime Minister doesn’t want the Bahamas to have the reputation of being a police state — that wouldn’t do much for tourism, either.’
‘Then investigate the sinking of that tanker in Exuma Sound last night. The report mentioned a twenty-mile oil slick only eight hours after she went down. If that’s true the oil came out awfully fast. If I were you I’d question the skipper closely — if he’s still around. Don’t wait for the official inquiry; regard it as a police matter.’
‘By God!’ said Deane. ‘I hadn’t made that connection.’
‘And find Robinson,’ I said. ‘What do you know about him?’
‘Nothing at all. Your Mr Robinson is an unknown quantity.’
Perigord came in. ‘Capistrano just left Running Mon marina, heading east along the coast.’
East! ‘Making for the Grand Lucayan Waterway and the north coast,’ I said. ‘Florida next stop.’
‘What kind of a boat is she?’ asked Deane.
‘Sixty-foot motor yacht, white hull,’ said Perigord. ‘I don’t think she’s all that fast, she’s a displacement type according to the management of Running Mon. She put into the marina during the night with engine trouble. Had it fixed this morning.’
I looked at Deane who was sitting immobile. ‘What are we waiting for? You have a fast police launch, and Capistrano is still in Bahamian waters.’
‘So we put men aboard, search her, and find nothing. Then what?’ Deane stood up. ‘I’ll tell you what would happen next. We’d have to let her go — with profuse apologies. If your Mr Robinson is as clever as you say we would certainly not find anything because there would be nothing to be found.’
‘But you might find Robinson,’ I said. ‘He could be aboard and he’s wanted for kidnapping in Texas.’
‘Not so,’ contradicted Deane. ‘A man calling himself Robinson is wanted for questioning concerning a kidnapping in Texas. He cannot possibly be extradited merely for questioning. We would have to let him go. He has committed no crime in the Bahamas for which we have evidence — as yet.’
‘Robinson might not be on board, anyway,’ said Perigord.
‘Then aren’t you going to do anything?’ I demanded desperately.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Deane blandly. He lifted his eyebrows interrogatively at Perigord. ‘I hope your contingency planning is working well.’
‘It is. A fast Customs boat will pass Capistrano and enter the Lucayan Waterway ahead of her. There’ll be another behind. Once she’s in the Waterway she’s bottled up. Then we put the Customs officers aboard her.’
‘But I thought you said...’ I was bewildered.
‘We might as well try,’ said Deane smoothly. ‘Who knows what the Customs officers might find if they search thoroughly enough. Cocaine, perhaps?’
I opened my mouth again, then shut it firmly. If this pair was about to frame Robinson by planting cocaine on his boat they would certainly not admit it to me, but it seemed that Deane was a hard case who was not above providing his own evidence. After all, all he had to do was to keep Robinson in the Bahamas for four days.
‘We had better be on hand,’ Deane said casually. ‘You’ll come, too — you can identify Robinson.’ He picked up the photograph of Carrasco-Perez. ‘And I shall certainly want to question those on board about their association with Perez. We rendezvous at the Casuarina Bridge in thirty minutes.’
‘I’ll be there,’ I said.
Hoping and praying that Robinson would be aboard Capistrano I drove the few hundred yards to the Royal Palm knowing that Billy Cunningham would want to be in at the kill. As soon as he saw me he said, ‘Capistrano was in a marina called Running Mon, but she’s gone now.’
I said, ‘I know. The police are going to pick her up.’
‘Is Robinson on board?’
‘I hope so. I’m joining Perigord and Deane. They want me to identify Robinson. Want to come along?’
‘Try stopping me,’ he said. ‘I’m looking forward to meeting that son of a bitch.’
I made a decision. ‘We’ll go by boat. Let’s go down to the marina.’
We found Joe Cartwright in the marina office. I popped my head around the door, and said, ‘I want the rescue boat, Joe; with a full tank.’
Cartwright looked up. ‘Can’t be done, Mr Mangan. Got the engine out of her. Tuning her up for the BASRA Marathon next month.’
‘Damn! What else have we that’s fast and seaworthy?’
‘What about the inflatable?’ he suggested. ‘She’s not bad.’
‘Get her ready.’
Within minutes we were at sea, roaring east along the south coast towards the Lucayan Waterway. Some people feel uncomfortable about being in a blow-up boat but they are very good. They are unsinkable, and the British even use them as lifeboats for inshore rescue. And they are damned fast even if they do tend to skitter a bit on the surface of the water.
I told Billy about the plan of attack, and presently I pointed. ‘There’s the Waterway, and that’s the Customs launch just turning in. We’ve got Capistrano trapped.’
I slowed as we entered the Waterway. The Casuarina Bridge was nearly two miles ahead, and in the distance I could see the Customs launch lying next to a white-hulled boat. ‘They’ve got her.’ We motored on and drew alongside the Customs launch where I tossed the painter to a seaman and cut the engine. ‘Let’s go aboard.’
As we stepped on to Capistrano’s deck I was accosted by a Customs officer. ‘Who are you?’
‘Tom Mangan.’ I looked up at the bridge and saw Perigord and Deane looking down. ‘I’m with Commissioner Deane.’ Three men stood on the after deck. None of them was Robinson. ‘That the crew?’
‘Yes; skipper, engineer and seaman-cum-cook.’
‘No one else?’
‘We’re still looking. I’ve got men searching below.’
One of the three men approached us. ‘Hell, Captain, this is crazy. We’re not carrying anything illegal. We’re just on a cruise.’ He was an American.
‘Then you have nothing to worry about,’ said the Customs man.
‘Well, I’ve gotta get back before the bad weather blows up. Did you hear the weather report? If you don’t let me go I’ll have to see the American consul here.’
‘I’ll give you his address,’ said the officer blandly.
Another Customs man emerged from a hatch. ‘No one below,’ he reported.
‘Are you sure?’ I said.
‘We opened up every compartment big enough to hold a man.’
‘It’s a bust,’ said Billy disgustedly.
Deane and Perigord had come down from the bridge and were picking their way along the shore towards us. I looked around the deck of Capistrano and stiffened as I noticed that the stern davits were empty. I swung around to face the skipper. ‘Where’s the dory — your tender?’