17.2 Croaker Hole

In the meantime, the radio was calling the ship, “Del Rey calling Valor! Do you hear me! Del Rey calling! Answer me, Valor!”

“Where is land?” she stepped on the deck. Light reached a narrow strip of white sand in some distance.

“That is an island or a sandbank,” said Angela.

“Alright! Keep an eye for a boat coming this way. Do not flash your light. Probably, these guys are the only ones heading this way. I will try the radio,” she said,

“I am scared!” cried Angela, “We cannot stay on the boat. We must climb that island.”

“Hang on!”

She tuned the radio on the emergency frequency 8414.5 kHz and pressed the distress button ‘scrambler’. She began to call, “Mayday! Mayday!”

And there was immediate response from the US Coastguard.

Natalia explained, “We need help. We have been abducted. Kidnapped. On a boat called ‘Valor’ and I don’t know our location. We are in the middle of the sea somewhere in Corpus Christi Bay.”

“Who are you?” asked the operator.

“My name is Natalia Pholporn, from San Diego, California. My friend is Angela Herron from New York. We can’t stay on the boat. They are coming after us to kill us. We have knocked down one crew on the boat. He is black. We are free for the moment.”

“What kind of boat?”

“A Tayana 37, earlier this afternoon, this boat was moored in Playa Del Rey behind 431431.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I was there looking for Linda Linz, the owner of the property. I am staying at Days Inn and I was in the crowd when the standoff took place. Linda came and took us into a white Chevy van that brought us here. And this boat travelled an hour, we were in blindfolds.”

“Do you know these guys?”

“Not in that manner. I only know Linda Linz. She is associated with these people. I saw two Hispanics and a white Caucasian male.”

“Why do they have to kidnap you?”

“I am a private investigator. If you call the North Coastal Sheriff’s Station in San Diego, they will tell you. I am on a case…a murder case, that’s all I can say for now. Please, do something…”

“Can you tell which bay, Nueces or Corpus?”

“No, I can’t,” she told the officer, “Look, officer! We cannot stay here. We’re getting down on a dinghy and see if we can find land.”

“Hold on!” cried the operator, “You will probably find a GPS or some position finder on the boat. See if you can read them. We need some coordinates.”

“Wait!” In a minute she replied, “I can read on a Raymarine panel, 27°43’.796 N and 97°95’.937 W.”

“Mustang Island on the barrier reef, Corpus Bay. There’s nobody in ten-mile radius,” said Operator Rogers, “We are sending a coastguard. Stay there!”

“We can’t stay on the boat,” responded Natalia, “they will come before the police. We are getting down on a small dinghy with this boat to Mustang Island.”

“Take some flares with you.”

Natalia turned to Angela who stood shivering at the moment, “Get some food and water. And flares. I have to look for something else.”

“What?” muttered Angela.

“I have to look for the nicotine.”

“Hurry up! They will be very close now!”

Natalia switched on all the lights and began to empty every locker in a hurry. In ten minutes, she pulled out a briefcase from a drawer under the V-bunk. In few seconds, she was holding notary-stamped documents of three originals of the ‘Last Will and Testament’ printed on parchment paper.

“Being of sound mind and body…I do hereby declare…this to be my Last Will and Testament…”

“Hurry, Mono!”

A creased letter from Hulsen & Quinn, “This is to notify about your mother’s Last Will…”

“Hurry up! Mono! Don’t waste time!”

She put the pages back in and looked for further clues. Then she grabbed the leather briefcase and turned to go. “Let’s get the hell out of here! I found the wills for 69 Church Street.”

Angela grabbed a torch and the bags she packed. Natalia grasped her wrist, “Wait!” and dropped the briefcase on the wing table. “Give me a sharp tool, scissors or a knife!” she cried.

Angela brought a knife from the galley.

Natalia demanded, “Show me your hair!”

“What for?”

“Forensics!”

“A very sick idea!”

She detached a handful of strands from Angela’s platinum blonde hair and asked her to do the same from her black hair. Natalia scattered them to the bunk and the saloon. “Angie, piss to the bunk. Damp the cushions and not your legs.”

“Done.”

They climbed down into the little dinghy. Angela checked the gas, “Full tank.”

Natalia pulled the recoil and they sped towards the island. Angela passed a bottle of rum, “I brought this for you.”

“Captain Morgan! Thanks, pirate!”

“It is three-thirty in the morning.”

 

Paul Clancy realised that the girls made a break somehow. He drank his Bourbon without ice at Playa Del Rey. “Travis! Go, put the briefcases back to their room,” he told them on the phone.

“I can’t go,” argued Travis Spano, “Ricky already dropped the key to the counter.”

“Get it back!”

“I can’t.”

 “Idiot!”

“There are people here. Do you understand what is going on in the city? Somebody slain! Do we go?”

“No, you cannot go now,” said Clancy, “drop the bags…lose them! Keep nothing in the van.”

“I can leave them beside the swimming pool.”

“Do it and come here.”

Clancy called 911, “My boat is stolen.”

Operator asked, “What kind of boat?”

“A Tayana 37, called ‘Valor’. In Playa Del Rey. It’s gone now.”

“When did you notice it missing?”

“Right now…right now. I just looked out and the boat was gone!”

“Can you give a description?”

“A 1984 sailing yacht, full keel cutter with white body, a brown line. Teak above and below deck, Oriental boat. Thirty-seven feet long and eleven and a half in the beam.”

“Are you in Playa Del Rey?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Operator continued, “How is the weather like?”

“It’s raining, cold, but the channel is not rough.”

“Did you say this is Packery Channel?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, we alert the coastguard. Any souls on the boat?”

“No, nobody,” replied Clancy, “Oh yes, Joe must be on board. Joe Garrison, my deckhand.”

“Won’t he take the boat out?”

“No, no, he won’t. Oh yes…yes, he might but he never did before. I don’t know.”

“How does he look like?”

“Six-foot-tall black male, average big guy, forty.”

“Can you pass me details, identification number, your ID, all, sir!”

After that, Officer Baetz replaced the phone and signed the sheet of paper, shoved it over her shoulder to give a shout, “Background Investigation!”