Unlawful Chase by C.J. Schnier (read ebook pdf .TXT) 📕

after a few minutes, I climbed up the ramp to the flat expanse of land that made up the resort. Half a dozen newly erected buildings were scattered around the grounds, along with a few pieces of construction equipment. Along one corner, the foundation of an unfinished building butted up to a chain-link fence surrounding the compound. Following the fence, I spotted a gate and a tiny guard shack. I was halfway to it when I heard a voice calling from behind me.

"Señor! Señor!" a clean-cut young man yelled as he jogged toward me.

I waited for him to catch up, put on my friendliest smile, and held out my hand. "Hi, I'm Chase Hawkins. I was wondering where everyone was," I said, not attempting to speak Spanish. In my experience, playing the dumb American tourist normally worked to my advantage. People didn't expect much from hapless tourists.

The man, a kid really, looked to be about twenty years old. He looked at my outstretched hand, and timidly took it in his own, giving me an uncertain shake.

"Señor Hawkins. Welcome. I apologize for chasing after you. We did not expect you until tomorrow," he said in perfect Cuban-accented English.

"That explains why the place seems deserted. I made better time than expected, I'm sorry if that causes any problems," I looked down at the embroidered name tag stitched to his dark blue polo shirt, "Enrique."

"No, no! No problems, señor. Welcome to Boca Sucia. I believe you are our first guest," he said with a pleasant smile.

"Well, it's always good to be first for something," I quipped. "I wasn't sure if you were open."

"Oh! We are not open to the public, yet. I have been told we may open this fall for the winter cruising season. But the owner called and told us you would be coming, and to help you for as long as you needed."

"That was nice of him," I said, wondering if Pruitt knew this owner, or if it was secretly him. Neither would have surprised me.

"I can show you around if you like, señor Hawkins. Of course most of the buildings are closed, however."

"That shouldn't be needed, Enrique. However, I have friends in a village nearby. Can you tell me the quickest way to get there?" I asked.

"Of course, Señor. Most of the laborers come from the village, and they cut a direct path through the jungle. If you go out of our main gate, and down the road for about a kilometer, you will see a path leading off to the right. This leads to the airfield. If you continue on to the other side, it will take you to the village."

"How far is the village?" I asked.

"It isn't far, five or six kilometers," Enrique said.

"And the road? Does it go to the village too?"

"Si. But it is a much longer trip on foot. I will tell our security guard you will be coming and going. Boca Sucia is a very private resort and we take our security seriously. I must ask, for your own safety, please do not go wandering around the grounds unattended."

Something in his voice sounded more like a veiled threat than a warning. For a moment I wondered what kind of place this was, but dismissed it. The resort's business wasn't my own. I just needed a safe place to leave my boat.

"You've got my word, Enrique. I'll stick to the path between the docks to the gates. Thank you for the heads up." I turned towards the entrance to the compound but only made it a couple of steps before Enrique called after me.

"Señor?" he said, getting my attention.

"Yes?"

"If you are trying to go unnoticed, I suggest you change. Shorts are not normally worn here unless at the beach. If you go out like that, the locals will know you are a tourist and may try to take advantage of you. Also, it is getting late, and the road isn't always safe. There has been increased rebel activity in the area and the military has been patrolling more. You might want to wait for morning."

I did not want to risk a run-in with Bardales' men. But I also didn't want to give him any more of a head start on finding the artifact either. I was ready to ignore Enrique's warning when the exhaustion of the voyage and the stress of nearly being spotted hit me. The idol had been hidden for hundreds of years. It could wait one more night. And Enrique was right, I would look suspicious anywhere except a barstool in Marathon.

"Thanks for the heads up, boss. Sometimes us sailors have to be reminded we're in civilization. You know what would be nice? A shower. Is there a water hookup on the docks?"

"Yes, of course, but I can do better. There is a bathroom with hot showers right near where you docked," he said with a hint of pride.

"Hot water? Enrique, I'm liking Boca Sucia more and more. If you keep this up, I'm going to leave a glowing review." I said with a smile. An unlimited hot water shower was exactly what I needed after a week at sea.

Enrique walked with me back to the docks, pointing out the various buildings. He mentioned the owner had hired him to be the concierge and manager for the marina resort, and as part of his job he had his own room here on site. His family lived in the village, but now that he was busy helping oversee the construction, he rarely saw them. His English was perfect and in our short walk I discovered he also spoke French and Portuguese. He bid me farewell and headed for the building he had designated as the marina office while I gathered some clean clothes and enjoyed an invigorating shower.

CHAPTER FOUR

Sweat poured down my back within minutes of starting down the dirt road, drenching my shirt. The heat and oppressive humidity had been bearable in the marina where