Who Are You?
By
UCSBdad
Disclaimer: This belongs to ABC, or someone else. Not me. Rating: M. Time: Season seven.
Chapter eight.
"Mr. and Mrs. Castle?"
Rick and Kate were headed for the baggage carousel at the Toussaint Louverture International Airport in Port au Prince, Haiti. "Yes?" Rick said.
"I'm Joe Malone, from the embassy." He held out his ID. Malone was a stocky young man, about six feet tall with sandy brown hair and an air of competence. He was dressed informally in khaki slacks and an aloha shirt. Rick wished he hadn't worn a suit. Even though they were still in the terminal, it was hot and humid.
"We didn't expect anyone to meet us." Kate said. She had noted a suspicious bulge at Malone's hip.
"It isn't every day we get a world famous author and his world famous wife." Malone said cheerfully. "The ambassador decided we should make an effort." Malone pointed to the terminal doorway. "I've had your luggage taken to the car. This way, please."
The car turned out to be a large, white SUV, complete with a Haitian driver. Malone rode shotgun and Rick and Kate got in the back. Rick noticed a cardboard box on the seat beside him. "What's this?"
"We understand that the NYPD uses Glocks. We have two Glock 19s and two Glock 26s as back up pieces. Holsters, spare clips and extra ammo are in the box."
"We have no authorization to go armed in Haiti." Kate said quickly.
"You do now." Malone handed them two plastic covered ID cards. Rick saw they were in French with his and Kate's photos on them. "Those are IDs from the Haitian National Police, and these, "he handed them two more cards, "are IDs from the United Nations Stabilization Mission. The UN has about ten thousand troops here, mostly from Brazil, and about four thousand police, plus various civilian personnel. You're officially here on loan from the NYPD. If you have any problems, just call me." He handed them each a business card.
"Are the weapons necessary?" Rick asked.
Malone shrugged. "Haiti is one of the poorest nations in the world. It's also one of the most corrupt and one of the most violent. As long as you stay out of the areas the police and military have blocked off, you should be okay. But keep your eyes open."
As if on cue, they came upon two armored personnel carriers, painted UN white, forming a road block, closing off a side street. A dozen or more camouflage wearing soldiers stood ready. Rick noticed that the machine guns on the roofs of the vehicles were manned and ready.
"Are things that bad?"
Malone laughed. "You should have been here in 2010 after the earthquake. Things really got hairy then."
"Are they still hairy enough for you to carry a weapon?" Kate asked. Unlike Rick, she had loaded her weapons and jacked a round into the chambers of both pistols.
"Absolutely." Malone replied. "I carry an M9 Beretta. And that's when I'm in town where it's nice and safe. Relatively speaking. "
"What exactly do you do?" Rick asked.
"Economic development."
"And they sent an economist to the airport to pick us up?"
Malone shrugged. "I'm the junior man."
"You wouldn't know my dad by any chance would you?"
Malone shook his head. "I can't think of anyone I know of named Castle other than you two."
"How about a Jackson Hunt?"
Malone shook his head.
"Anderson Cross?"
"Nope. Never heard of either of them. Why do you ask?"
"Just curious." Castle said with a disarming smile.
Malone handed them a folder. "This is what we have on the last surviving d'Erlon gang member, Julian d'Erlon. He came back to Haiti about a dozen years ago. He had some money, a million, maybe two, which makes him fantastically rich by Haitian standards. He's more or less a legitimate businessman. I say more or less, because, as I said, Haiti is dirt poor, corrupt and violent. So he keeps a private security force of a couple dozen thugs around and he bribes the police and government. But everyone bribes the police and government these days. He lives in Cap Hatien on the north shore of the island. He owns the best hotel in town, which isn't saying much, and the best restaurant, which is pretty good. They have great sea food. He makes his money from gas and oil. He pretty much controls all of the gas stations around Cap Haitien and has his fingers in a lot of pies up there."
"He doesn't sound like that much of a legitimate businessman." Kate said tartly.
"Around here, he's a pillar of the community." Malone answered.
The SUV pulled up in front of a hotel. "This is our hotel, the Best Western Premiere." Castle said.
"Can we rent a car to take us to Cap Hatien?" Kate asked.
"I'd recommend against it." Malone said. "The roads, for that matter the whole infrastructure, in Haiti are bad even by Third World standards. And the roads aren't safe. I'd recommend you take a boat. There's a guy the embassy uses. He can take you up to Cap Hatien tomorrow."
Rick and Kate exchanged glances. Rick nodded. "Okay. How do we get in touch with him?"
"I'll call him for you. I'll arrange for him to pick you up here at about nine tomorrow morning. Okay?"
"Okay."
Once inside their suite, Rick began to unpack.
"You should load your weapons first." Kate said.
"You think so?" He said, unsure.
"The Embassy guy, Malone, is probably CIA and I'd sort of expect him to be armed. But there were soldiers with assault rifles and protective vests on the streets, in groups of four. Lots of them. And we got some looks from the local citizenry I didn't like. We're not in New York anymore, Toto."
Rick nodded. "Loading the guns."
"It might be a good idea to eat in the hotel as well. We don't know this city at all. I'd rather be safe than sorry."
"We could order room service." Rick said, picking up a menu that was on the desk in their suite. "It looks pretty good and the prices are dirt cheap." Castle glanced at the bed and then wiggled his eyebrows. "And once we're done with dinner, we can entertain ourselves."
Kate shook her head. "Don't you ever stop thinking about sex?"
"Not where you're concerned."
Kate walked over to the bed, sat down and kicked off her shoes. Then she rolled over to the center of the bed. "That's one of the things I love about you."
Dr. Lanie Parish walked back into her morgue and came to a dead stop. Her morgue was crowded by a group of men, standing around. "Who the hell are you people?" She bellowed.
As soon as she spoke, a familiar redhead stuck her head around one of the young men. "Hi, Lanie. They told me you were out. I'm just showing some friends where I used to work. I hope you don't mind."
Lanie grinned at Alexis. "I guess I don't mind, but I'm not sure how your friends will feel about seeing an active morgue. It's pretty gross. If they throw up in here, you and they will clean up, not me."
The African-American chuckled and shook his head. "We won't be throwing up. Hell, we've seen worse than this. Why, we've done worse than this."
Lanie frowned. Who the hell were these friends of Alexis'?
Alexis came toward her. "Lanie, let me explain."
Before Alexis could explain, the man held out his hand. "Sergeant John Boyle, ma'am. Sniper team leader, First Ranger Battalion."
The rest introduced themselves.
"Sergeant Frank Cao, ma'am. Sniper, First Ranger Battalion.
"Al Bedoya, Sergeant, sniper, First Ranger Battalion, ma'am."
"Sergeant Jaime Almagro, same as the rest, ma'am."
"Sergeant Vince Peake, medic, First Ranger Battalion. Everyone calls me Doc, ma'am."
The group looked as cocky as a certain writer she knew. Lanie decided to test them. "Okay, as long as you're here, you might give me a little help." She led the men and Alexis over to a covered body on a table and pulled the sheet down to the corpse's waist. "What do you think?"
She was only a bit surprised when the six young people crowded around the body.
"No spoilers, Castle." The medic said. "She wants to see what we can do. You having worked here and being pre-med gives you an unfair advantage over us warriors for the working day."
The five young men looked over the corpse, whispering among themselves. Finally, they decided on something. Boyle turned and nodded to Lanie. "Our distinguished colleague, Doc Peake, will present our findings."
Peake stepped forward and made a slight bow to Lanie, smiling as he did so. Lanie was sure the smile was intended more for Alexis than for her. "The killer was an amateur. No training at all. The killer used a knife to slash the victim. If you want to kill someone with a blade, you stab them, you don't slash them. A stab wound goes deep into the victim and damages the internal organs, hopefully fatally. In any case, you'll sever major veins and arteries and the victim will bleed out. The killer got lucky and managed to slash the carotid artery in the neck. Your victim has slash wounds on his hands where he tried to fend off the knife attack."
"Very good, Doctor." Lanie said.
Peake smiled. "Oh, we're not done. The slash wounds mostly aren't deep, indicating that not a great deal of force was used. The killer was not strong, perhaps a woman or a child, or even someone quite elderly. Lastly the slashes go from the victim's upper right to the lower left, indicating the killer was left handed, most likely. "
Lanie nodded, impressed. She picked up a clipboard. "The victim is William Berry, a butcher by trade. His fiancé, Carla Sanders walked into his shop to find him having sex with another woman. Carla grabbed a knife, slashed the other woman, who ran out screaming, and went to work on Mr. Berry. The vic, having his pants around his ankles, couldn't really run. Ms. Sanders is indeed left handed. Very good."
The soldiers exchanged high fives.
"I'm trying to convince Vince to go to med school, Lanie." Alexis said. "Could you talk to him?"
Vince held up his hand. "Before you do, Dr. Parish, I just re-enlisted for six years and I'm thinking of trying to get into the Special Forces. And I can't really see going to college, to med school, plus an internship, just to get to where I am now. The places that I've been downrange, I'm the most qualified medical person they've seen in their entire lives. And the places I go, nobody but armed men are going to go. Like I said, I like what I do."
Lanie nodded. "But there's no reason I can't talk to you a bit about other possibilities, is there?"
Peake sighed. "I guess not."
Lanie talked to Peake about medical school and all of its advantages, but sensed he was just being polite by listening to her. "You're something of an adrenaline junkie, aren't you?" She finally said.
Peake laughed, attracting Alexis' attention. She was trying to get his friends to talk to her about Vince, but they stuck to generalities. "Could be. But I do get a kick out of helping people. Giving people medical care they'd probably never get without me or someone like me."
"Aren't you overstating things a bit?" Lanie asked.
Peake smiled at her. "Let me tell you a story about the first time I deployed to Afghanistan. We were up north of Bagram Air Base, out near the Panjshir Valley, but more to the west. There were a lot of Hazara around there. The Hazara are supposedly descendants of the Mongols who over ran a lot of the world under Genghis Khan back in the day. They have no use for the Taliban, the Hazara being Shia and not Sunni."
"Anyway, we had this Hazara kid come running into our FOB with a message from one of the local Hazara tribal chieftains. Something about a difficult pregnancy. We loaded up a half a dozen Humvees, I grabbed my stuff and off we went. I actually was trained a little on child birth, you know. So, we're about halfway to the village and we come around a bend and there's about a dozen jihadis setting up an IED. Why they didn't hear us coming, I have no idea. We see them, they see us and for just a second, we look at each other, then all hell breaks loose. We win, they lose."
"We drive on to the village and this woman comes waddling out to see us. She's huge! I mean she's about fourteen month pregnant, I'm sure. So I head for her and the chief grabs me and calls the terp, interpreter, over. He isn't worried about his pregnant daughter-in-law, it's his prize goat that's in need of my medical skills. Sure enough the goat's pregnant and the baby goat is in the breach position. I grab a big, husky machine gunner who isn't doing anything to hold the goat down, and I move the kid and deliver successfully, Mother and child were doing well."
"In the meantime, the woman has delivered her child all by herself and is off, carrying a cow up the mountain, or some damn thing. I don't know."
"Anyway, the moral of the story is, that if I wasn't armed, there'd be one more dead goat in A-Stan. How could I not want to do that with my life?"
Lanie couldn't think of anything to say to that. Luckily, one of Peake's friend's spoke up.
"Hey, Doc. Your girlfriend says she knows a Mexican restaurant whose owner comes from Monterrey, Nuevo Leon." Tuco said. "Get your shit together, amigo. We are going to feast."
"Mi novia?" Peake said quietly.
"Si. Su novia." Tuco replied.
Peake turned to Lanie. "I guess I'm out of here. Thanks for the talk, Doctor Parish."
Rick and Kate found a pickup truck waiting in front of their hotel the next morning. A heavily built black man walked up to them, smiling. "Mr. and Mrs. Castle? I'm Bob Leslie." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Those are my cousins." Three unsmiling men sat in the bed of the pickup. "Mr. Malone uses us because we're Jamaicans."
Neither Rick nor Kate had any idea why being Jamaican would make any difference, but they climbed into the truck. After a brief discussion, Rick sat in the middle of the bench seat with Kate on the passenger side.
They drove through several police and military roadblocks with nothing more than a wave. Apparently the Leslie family was well known. Kate did notice that the cousins in the back seemed to have their heads on a swivel and kept their hands close to a tarp in the truck bed. Kate slid her hand to the butt of her gun. She tried to alert Castle, but he was too busy asking questions of Bob Leslie to pay any attention to her.
Eventually, they reached the harbor and went to a dilapidated dock in a seemingly deserted past of the port. Kate thought it looked like a great place to dump a body or two. The cousins in the back jumped out, now armed with AK 47 assault rifles that had apparently been under the tarps. Bob smiled. "Can't be too careful." Kate noticed that the cousin's attention was everyplace but on Rick and her. She relaxed slightly.
Bob led them to the edge of the dock. There below them was a cigarette boat. The cousins hopped in the back and Bob helped his two passengers down the ladder to the boat. "These boats are fast, but the ride isn't very smooth. "Bob said. "Much better with some Red Stripe." He opened a cooler, showing them bottles of beer. He took one for himself and gave one to each of his passengers. "Drink all you want." He said, heading for the cockpit. When he started the engines, Kate could hardly hear a thing. Even screaming in Rick's ear, she could hardly get through to him. They settled down for a long, bumpy boat ride.
Finally, they arrived at another dilapidated dock, this one in Cap Hatien. Bob pointed to a man standing at the far end of the dock by a large 80's vintage Ford. "That's Emile. He'll take you to d'Erlon's. He'll also call us when you're ready to come home." The Leslies got back in their boat and were gone.
Emile turned out to speak little English, or so it appeared. He put their luggage in the trunk and drove madly through the streets, using his horn instead of his brakes. Finally, atop a hill overlooking the town, they arrived at a Spanish Colonial style mansion, all white washed adobe, red tile roof, green lawns and roses. Emile disappeared with the luggage. Rick and Kate headed to the front door. Before they had a chance to knock, it was opened by a strikingly beautiful Haitian woman, who bowed to them and handed them an envelope. In it was a note addressed to them.
My Dear Mr. and Mrs. Castle,
I regret that a fire at one of my facilities requires my attention and I will be unable to meet with you until tomorrow. I sincerely apologize for this.
Yours,
Julian d'Erlon
"So Mr. d'Erlon isn't at home?" Rick asked.
The woman simply stared at the two Americans with a blank look on her face. Then turned and walked away. She was dressed in a white dress that covered her from neck to ankles, but was so thin that in appeared she had nothing else on. Following her, the Castles walked past two other very attractive Haitian women, similarly dressed, who also stared blankly ahead and paid no attention to the newcomers. At long last, they reached a bedroom on the second floor of the house. Their clothing was being put away by yet another blank faced Haitian woman.
"I'll do that." Kate said, grabbing a dress and hanging it up. "You can go now. We can take care of this."
The woman ignored Kate, not even looking at her and continued to hang the clothing up. Kate decided not to interfere. Finally both women left, without saying a word.
"I'm not sure I like this." Kate said.
Rick shrugged. "Isn't this what meeting a fugitive drug lord is all about? But with zombies?"
"Zombies, babe? Really?"
"Yes, real Haitian zombies. It's a drug from the pufferfish. It turns people into zombies."
"In other words, these women are all stoned."
"It doesn't sound the same when you say it that way."
Kate put her arms around Rick. "In other words, we're meeting with a fugitive drug lord in Haiti. Relax. He wants to talk to us. That's why he asked us to come here."
"Maybe I am overreacting."
Kate just smiled.
Shortly after sundown another blank faced Haitian woman delivered dinner to the couple.
"Seafood, fresh vegetables, a fresh salad with our choice of dressings, onion soup, and a bottle…"He picked the bottle out of the ice bucket…"very good Chardonnay. From the Napa Valley. Our Mr. d'Erlon doesn't seem to be a wine snob, anyway."
They ate dinner and then relaxed on the balcony outside their bedroom. "I wonder if our cell phones will work out here." Castle said, pulling out his cell. "Hey, I've got bars." He hit a number. "Hey! Espo! Where are you?"
"Castle? I'm at work. Where are you?"
"Enjoying the hospitality of Mr. d'Erlon and his all-girl zombie party here in Haiti."
"Get anything?"
"D'Erlon isn't at home, so we won't see him until tomorrow. How about you?"
"We have some leads, nothing concrete, and nothing I'd like to discuss on an unsecure line."
"Okay, just wanted to let you know we're okay and where we are." He turned to Kate." Need to say anything to Espo?"
"Keep working. We'll be back soon. Bye."
They were about to go back in when Castle heard something. "What is that?"
"Drums?" Kate said.
"Voodoo drums. Someone's being made undead as we speak."
"Castle, it's probably just the locals having a party."
"Yeah, you've seen what a wild and crazy bunch they are. Tonight I'm sleeping with my weapons on the nightstand and the door locked."
Kate nodded. "Me, too, I think. But not because I'm afraid of zombies."
"Just remember to shoot them in the head."
They were almost ready for bed when the door opened and another blank faced young woman walked in and walked to their bed.
"We don't need the bed turned down, we can just…"
Kate stopped as the woman reached down, grabbed the hem of her gown and pulled it over her head. Then she lay on the bed, naked, and spread her legs.
"Rick, help me get her dressed and out of here."
Rick nodded, and, trying his best not to look, helped Kate get her up, dressed and out of their room.
"I'm putting something in front of the door." Rick said, moving a dresser in front of the door.
"That must be a first for you, Rick. Getting a strange woman out of your bed?"
"Hardly. I was doing a book tour for Unholy Storm in Ft. Worth and when I got to my hotel room, there was a woman there naked but for cowboy boots and spurs, with a saddle she wanted me to wear. She said it'd be the ride of my life. I turned her down."
Kate laughed so hard she couldn't get to sleep for half an hour.