“Hunter, the interior of that hold is so full of bacteria and diseases it would almost be better to drop napalm on this thing. I’m not kidding.”
“Those people were in there for the entire trip?”
“Uh-huh. I know what you’re thinking, and it’s a crying shame, too, because most of them ran off and they’re going to become very sick. Some will die from it. If we’d caught them, they would have received medical attention. Come on.” Bob led them to an area ten feet from the hold opening.
The breeze changed and blew across the open hold to Hunter’s face. She felt her stomach lurch, “Oh, my gosh.”
“Want some Vicks?” Bob handed the small, cobalt blue glass container to her. She put a daub of it under her nose, and then handed the container to John and Randall. One of the Hazmat men in the hold emerged and handed a crude painting in a frame to one of the other men wearing Hazmat gloves. Bob said to him, “Check the back of the painting.”
The man did, and said, “It’s got writing on it.”
“Show it to Andre Benton.” The man waved at a Border Patrol Agent who resembled the actor, Don Cheadle. He walked to them and looked at the writing.
Andre said, “It’s Creole, talking about a voodoo spell to hide the freighter from the Coast Guard as they cross, even if they pass within inches of each other.”
Bob said, “I thought that might be it.”
Andre said, “One of the Haitians I talked to a few minutes ago swore that he felt them turn invisible when they saw a Coast Guard ship on the horizon, then they re-materialized when the Guard was gone.”
Another Hazmat suit popped up from the hold and said to Redus, “We’ve got four bodies down here. They were under the bilge water. I didn’t find them until I stepped on the first one. Two women, an old man, and an infant, maybe six months, so now there are four murders to go with everything else.” He added, “I’m gonna need a stiff drink after this shift.”
Randall said, “John and I know the Lauderdale Homicide Detectives. We can give them a call, if you want. Get them started this way.”
“That would help, thanks.” John and Randall moved away several steps for less noise when they called, and Bob said to Hunter, “You want to help out? You don’t have to.”
“Yeah, I’ll hang around. Thanks.”
“If you’re going to work on this, are you carrying?”
Hunter put her hands on her hips. “I’m wearing a bi
kini.”
Bob looked at the sky and bit his lower lip to keep from grinning, “Why, so you are.”
“Do I need a weapon? There are a dozen armed Agents around here.”
“I guess not. I’ll put you with Andre.”
“Works for me.”
Another Agent came to Bob and said, “Just came through dispatch, you need to land-line the Chief.”
“What’s going on?”
“There were two other boatloads of Haitians that landed at different places farther up the coast since midnight, and another one that the Coast Guard just found capsized off the Cay Sal Banks in the Bahamas. Thirty, forty drowned on that one, and another hundred or so are clinging to the half-submerged ship.”
Bob said, “Let me find a phone. Hunter, get with Andre and tell him you’ll be working with him.”
~*~
Andre and Hunter talked to the refugees one at a time, allowing them to sit in a tree-shaded grassy area beside the Border Patrol Suburban. One of the women spoke English. Hunter said to her, “I saw one man, dressed nice, and he was short and stocky.”
The woman said, “I do not know that one.”
“He had unusual eyes, very black.”
The woman shook her head, “No, no, no, I will not talk of him.”