Mac in Martinique, ch 8
Aphradonis
Daphne lay back on her beach towel, trying to pretend that she was enjoying herself.
The sun was warm, and the sea was just as magically blue as it had been in the travel brochure, but so far this vacation wasn't everything it had been cracked up to be. Daphne and her husband traveled to a different tropical location every year, but she never had very much fun at any of them.
Fred, her husband, was lying next to her openly goggling the other women on the beach. Daphne told herself she shouldn't feel annoyed… but she did. She was just as pretty in her bikini as any of them, but none of the other men on the beach dared to look her way—let alone smile at her or say 'hello'—not with Fred the Goggling Gargoyle sitting next to her!
A volley-ball game was being started up the beach. Fred suddenly leaped to his feet—spraying Daphne with sand—and ran to join in, not bothering to ask if his wife might want to come along.
Daphne stood up and dusted herself off in disgust. She shook out her towel, thinking that she would storm off in a huff and go back to the hotel, when she spotted something moving far out in the water. She shaded her eyes for a better look. Yes, something was definitely swimming toward the beach, moving smoothly through the water.
It was a man—a man like Daphne had never seen before. He rose up from the sea before her like a Greek fantasy, foam swirling around his hands, dark hair plastered to his head, wearing only a pair of jeans that the water seemed to be determined to pull off of his body.
Daphne's breath caught in her throat as the man came out of the water. He was tall and lean, and she hardly noticed that he was barely able to walk. He didn't appear to be aware that he'd come ashore on a crowded beach; he walked with his head down, nearly stumbling into Daphne where she stood, clutching her towel. He caught himself from falling, sprinkling her with water droplets. He looked down into her upturned, surprised face—and he smiled.
MacGyver raised his hand as if to take the woman's arm; the way she was swaying, he wondered if she were going to fall over herself. His fingers barely brushed her shrinking skin. With a polite "Excuse me, ma'am," he stepped carefully around her, walking through the group of curious women who were watching him intently.
Daphne turned and watched him going, marveling at the way the sand clung to his jeans… and the way the water dripped from his hair and ran in streaks down his wide, tanned shoulders… He hadn't looked at or spoken to any of the other women—just her! She watched him until he was completely out of sight.
'That decides it!' Daphne thought to herself as she fanned her flaming cheeks with a straw hat, 'Next year, I'm coming to Martinique again… alone!'
⌂
MacGyver didn't feel like a beautiful woman's tropical sun-dream… he felt like about forty miles of rough country road. But in spite of his aches and how tired he was, he forced himself to jog through the sand, doggedly heading toward the bungalow where he hoped that Jack and Mike were still waiting safely for his return. He felt conspicuous without a shirt, but DuGaul and his goon had taken everything in his pockets, so he couldn't afford to buy something from the shops that bordered the beaches.
Mac got lucky. He was walking past the breakwater when he noticed someone had draped their clothes over the stone jetty. Muttering an apology to the owner, he helped himself to the colorful Hawaiian-style shirt. It was far too small… he couldn't pull it closed to button it… but at least he didn't feel naked anymore.
His head still ached, and his lungs were burning from the long swim, but Mac was afraid he was already too late. Visions of Mike and Jack being taken by the same ruthless men that had abducted him kept him slogging along, even when he began to stumble. He slowed down just long enough to catch his second wind, and then he hurried on.
After what seemed an eternity, the bungalow appeared ahead. Mac's momentum took him up the steps in one leap, through the open door with the next, and face-to-face with Chink's partner-in-crime, Jones.
Jones had begun to search the room, having only just arrived to find it abandoned. He wasn't prepared for Mac's precipitous entrance. It took a few seconds for him to recognize the bedraggled man who stood dripping in the doorway.
Mac momentum carried him on and both men went down in a tumble. Mac tried to roll to his feet and managed to get to his knees. He had a handful of Jones' shirt, and he cocked back his fist, ready to put everything he had left behind the punch.
To his surprise, Jones covered his face with both of his arms, shouting, "Wait! Please!"
Startled, Mac stopped, but he didn't release his grip on Jones. "Where's…" Mac started to ask where his friends were, but he remembered that Jones might not know about them yet. He changed his question to "Where's your buddy? How'd you find out about this place?" He kept his grip on Jones' collar, realizing that he'd probably fall over if he let him go.
Jones wasn't acting like the strong-arm thug that Mac though he was. "Look… you're MacGyver, right? This isn't what it looks like... I'm going to need you to trust me."
"Trust you?" Mac felt the strength ebbing from his limbs. "Trust you how?"
"I work for the D.E.A. I'm under cover… deep under cover! I can't explain more now… you've got to get out of here. DuGaul knows about this place and he's coming here."
Mac looked shook his head, doubting that he could run any further. All the aches and pains he'd suffered since the morning were catching up to him.
Jones took hold of Mac's hands. "Your friends left before I got here. I was going to try to get them into protective custody, but they were gone already. I don't think DuGaul knows about them, but he may find out at any time!"
Mac looked at the cuts on Jones' face and realized he's assaulted a Federal agent with a crustacean. He decided suddenly to trust him. He released his hold on Jones. "I need to find my friends."
Jones nodded toward the broken window at the rear of the bungalow. "I think that they went into the jungle. If they did, then they will be safe for as long as they stay there; but as soon as you can, you should contact the police. I'm going to do what I can to throw them off your trail."
"Wait a minute... if you know DuGaul is coming here, why don't you arrest him?" Mac leaned back against the wall, breathing deeply.
"'Cause I'm trying to get his boss," Jones whispered tightly. "DuGaul is second in command to the Head Honcho of the Caribbean drug trafficking. It's my job to get close enough to find out who he is. Now will you get the hell out of here?"
Mac began moving toward the broken window, but he caught sight of a black car racing up toward the bungalow. He could clearly see Chink and DuGaul through the windshield of the vehicle… and it was clear that they could see him, too. Mac turned to Jones and said, "Time to go."
Jones hung his head and said sadly. "Too late. I'm really sorry about this, but," he raised his oar-handle and deftly clubbed Mac right at the base of the neck, just hard enough to knock him out. "I got a big fish to catch, and you just got nominated to be the bait."
