Just Different Devils (20 page)

We dragged Nacho up onto the main deck and Jan gave him water while Chino and I finally released his feet. The plastic had cut into his skin, but that was not the source of all that blood.

I was so glad to see him again that I wanted to give him a hug, but he'd obviously been in that bag way too long. Even Po Thang strained against his leash far enough to give him a sniff, but quickly backed off.

"What hurts?" Chino asked while wiping the stinker's face off with fresh water.

"Nothing too serious. Mostly my pride," he croaked and signaled for more water. "Uh, do you think I could have a beer?"

"
Absolutamente
, Señor Ingacio," Javier said, reaching into the fridge.

Jan drew a large pot of warm water in the galley and brought it up so Chino could wash away blood and gore while looking for wounds.

Nacho chugged the beer. "Please, help me up and take me to the shower, Chino. I am not hurt. It is not my blood. And
por favor
, another beer."

"Yes, please, someone get him into that shower," I cracked, but fetched two bottles out of the deck fridge for him.

He chugged both beers, then grabbed his head. "Brain freeze!"

For some reason this wimpy gripe struck us all, including Nacho, as funny. Here he was, dehydrated, filthy, and most likely starving, and he was complaining about a brain freeze?

The men helped him to the outdoor shower—no way was he going inside my boat smelling like last month's fish—and Jan and I left him to his dignity while they helped him strip and wash down. Jan made him soup and toast, I found him clean clothes.

By the time we got him fed, it was time for our own dinner, during which I'd hoped to learn where Nacho had been all this time. Unfortunately, he was so exhausted from his ordeal he went straight to bed.

While we ate, several boaters stopped by to ask what the hell the boat chase was all about, looking for someone to blame for being whacked about so rudely. Chino explained to them that we'd witnessed the runaway panga and gone after it, only to find that the driver had passed out and the boat was on autopilot. And no, he wasn't drunk, but had suffered a dizzy spell.

There seemed to be a lot of that going around.

So, instead of being targets for derision, we were now heroes, and we left it like that; we powerboaters get enough guff without adding fuel to the fire.

After dinner, I volunteered to wash the dishes, Javier went to crash on the upper bunk in Nacho's cabin—and keep an eye on Nacho—Jan and Chino took my cabin, and I ended up, once again, on the settee. After they all went to their respective cabins, Po Thang and I did the dishes.

It was nice to have my pre-rinse and garbage disposal device back on board.

Somewhere around four in the morning according to the clock by the settee, Po Thang's thumping tail woke me. Nacho was in the galley, rummaging in the fridge, so we joined him.

"Lot's of good stuff in there. What's your pleasure?" I asked.

"I cannot have what I really want," he said, giving me a meaningful look that set my tummy jumping. Then he grinned and added, "However,  I have dreamed of mac and cheese for days, as well."

Whoa, can this dude make a girl all gushy, or what? "Well, lucky for you I froze an entire casserole and hid it in the back to preclude marauders."

I found the dish and popped it into the microwave. While it cooked, I poured a glass of wine for each of us and we settled at the dining table. Nacho downed his and held out his glass for more. He was still pale and a little shaky, but he sure smelled a lot better.

"How are your ankles?" I asked. We'd applied an antibacterial ointment and bandaged them.

"They will heal."

"How about the rest of you. How do you feel?"

"Like I spent more than one day in a black plastic bag."

"You kinda look like that, too. Where'd the blood come from?"

"I think they'd had fish in there. Old fish."

The microwave dinged and I went to give the macaroni a stir. When I returned he was pouring more wine.

"You might want to pace yourself there, Buddy. Dinner will be ready in five minutes."

"Maybe some water, as I am still very thirsty." He started to get up, but I pushed him back into his chair. 

"I'll get it. You take it easy."

He smiled that smile that always gives me a little flutter here and there. Mostly there. "I should get kidnapped and stuffed in a bag more often. You are being nice to me."

"There's been many a time I longed to tell you to get stuffed. Don't get used to me being nice. It will pass."

"Of that I am certain."

We clinked glasses and laughed.

He inhaled half the mac and cheese straight out of the casserole dish, washing it down with alternate gulps of water and wine. Po Thang stood by, attentively watching the fork's movement, his head and eyes following. I gave him a treat. "Nope, you ain't getting any, Matey. Pasta gives you gas and much as I missed you, I did not miss your hellacious farts."

Nacho stopped eating and gazed into my eyes. Okay, reading the occasional romance novel may have influenced that description, but anyhow he looked at me, and his eyes glistened. Tears? On Nacho? He wiped his eyes with his napkin and said, "I cannot tell you how much I have missed both of you. I thought...well, I was almost certain I would never see you again."

I patted his wrist. Po Thang put his chin on my arm, pinning my hand to Nacho's arm. I quickly pulled back from a little too much contact. Nacho stroked Po Thang's snout and cocked his head at me. I guess it was my turn to get schmaltzy. "Okay, I gotta admit, I missed you, as well. Seems we've both had quite an adventure. You tell me yours and I'll tell you mine.

"Isn't that supposed to be,
show
me yours and I'll show you mine?" he asked with that unhinging grin of his.

"I didn't miss you
that
much."

We talked until first light reminded us we required more sleep.

And even after all that time, I wasn't so sure I got the whole story. But, of course, neither did he.

Nacho claimed Mac had slipped him a Mickey—I sure didn't doubt that!—right after Jan and I took my new pangita out to the
bajo
that fateful day nine days before.

"And I woke aboard a large vessel I knew to be a shrimp boat by the smell. I worked on one during summers when I was in college, and it is something you never forget."

"You went to college? Where?"

"Café, I have been held hostage all this time, my life in danger, and you want my scholastic credentials?"

"Sorry. You just don't seem the type."

"Because," he asked softly, "I am Hispanic?"

"No, because you're a criminal."

"You obviously have not spent much time with graduates of the Harvard School of Business."

His quip gave us both a chuckle.

"So, where the heck have you been for the past nine days?"

"Until yesterday, on that shrimp boat. They actually treated me quite well, considering I was a prisoner, and locked into a tiny dark compartment in the engine room. I may never eat shrimp again."

"It was the
Pelicano
. That boat was here, in the anchorage, during the norther. Jan even went over and traded Spam for shrimp and halibut. Who could have known you were on it? And I saw the shrimper at the bajo when I was out there yesterday. They looked like they were leaving, but then they turned around."

"I felt them make a sharp u-turn, and hoped it was for the good. Up until then, I figured they were headed out to sea to dump me overboard. When they stopped, stuffed me into that bag, and carried me out on deck, I feared the worst. And I was right. They shoved me over a rail and I thought it was the end. But, I landed on a hard surface. My own boat's deck, as it turns out."

"So, how did you get in that little locker?"

"Someone rolled me in there, then started the boat. I realize now that when they stopped again, we were outside the anchorage here. They must have set the autopilot and jumped overboard for another boat to pick them up. If Chino and Javier hadn't come to the rescue, I would have had a really nasty landing on the beach."

"But, in your estimation, not a fatal one."

"Probably not. The boat is sturdy, and I was inside that cubby hole."

"So they evidently didn't intend to kill you. If so, they could have done that any old time in the past few days. They just wanted you out of the way."

He nodded. "I think so."

"Why?" I demanded, perhaps a little more sharply than I intended. After all, I had been promised Nacho in return for staying put and shutting up. But was he part of the plan to keep me from yelling for the authorities that something afoul was afoot on the
bajo
?

"I really have no idea."

"Why don't I believe you? You've been up to something, searching, and don't deny it, because Jan and I
know
you were. You ran a grid at the
bajo
, and Javier gave you an assist."

"How do you know this?"

Oops. "Uh, well, Javier came looking for you after you disappeared, so we figured you were in cahoots." I thought that sounded much better than,
we bugged your boat, put secret agent double-OH-dawg on the job, stole your thumb drive, and pantsed your accomplice.

His eyes narrowed. "And just what have
you
been doing the past nine days? Besides, of course, worrying about me."

"Yeah, like that happened. I dunno, we did all kinds of stuff. Mostly drank up your expensive booze."

He shook his head and gave me a two-handed, come on, give it up, sign. "Day by day, Café."

"Nacho waxing poetic? Lemme think. Okay, after we saw your boat towing
Full Tilt Boogie
out of the anchorage—"

He cut me off. "You did not think this strange? Why did you not intercept us and ask where we were going?"

"We were stuck. When the wind came up we returned via the cut, and ran aground. Had to push and pull the boat through, and by the time we were finally free, you were long gone." I didn't think it prudent to mention we were tracking him with a GPS locater Jan had planted on his boat.

"And then what?"

I told him we waited, hoping he would return, but then Javier showed up looking for him and we decided to go out the next morning in his panga. "Javier took us to the
bajo
and we found your boat anchored there, with this...
thing
on it."

"What thing?"

"A bloody, slimy, twitching, tentacle. Big. And throwing blood and gore all over the place. You were nowhere to be seen, so Javier called for help from La Paz, and all kinds of people showed up. They sent a couple of divers down to search for you, then took your boat to La Paz, and that was that. Well, until Mac showed up."

"
¡Pinche pendejo!
Where is he now?"

"I dunno, but if I ever see that SOB again, I plan to hand him his
cojones
."

Nacho squirmed in his chair and covered his lap with his hands.

"Whose pockets you gonna pick, Hetta?" Jan asked, stretching and yawning as she entered the main cabin and made a beeline for the coffee pot.

"Mac's."

She shuffled up to us with her coffee cup and plopped down on the other side of Nacho. "I'll help you, Hetta. That guy sure had
you
fooled."

"Hey, how was I to know he was a...whatever he is. We need to find out, you know. He's obviously up to no good, but he isn't here to ask what."

"More's the pity, as he would put it."

"On the other hand, Miz Jan, look who
is
sitting here, on my boat, and
is
without a doubt up to his neck in this pile of crap we've had to live through for the past...what? Two weeks?"

We both scooted closer to Nacho, sandwiching him tightly between us. He tried to stand, but Jan grabbed him by the belt with her free hand, and jerked him back, none too gently. "Whoa there, Podner, you got some 'splainin' to do."

Nacho was saved by Javier sticking his head out of their cabin.

"
¡Javier!
¡Ayúdame!
These women are molesting me."

"You are lucky." Javier went straight for the coffee, poured a cup, added three tablespoons of sugar, and cream, took a sip, then smiled at Nacho. "
Pero
, you still 'ave your
pantalones
."

"Of course he has his pants. What do you take us for?" Jan huffed.

"What's going on up here?" Chino asked as he came up the stairs from my cabin. "Who needs help?"

"Me," Nacho answered. "I am under attack."

"Not yet, you rat," I said. "You are at the root of this entire screwed up mess, and I want to know why, or we will hurt you. Badly.
¿Entiendes?
"

"Yes, I understand. But, there is not much to tell. Ask Javier. We were just investigating the diver attacks, trying to find out if the Red Devils were becoming a serious danger."

"Why you? Why not hire a full-fledged, world renowned, Doctor of Marine Biology." I put my finger to the side of my face and tilted my head. "But, where oh where could you possibly find one of those? Oh, that's right, you actually know one." I pointed at Chino, "Doctor Brigido Comacho Yee, in the flesh."

Chino took a bow. "At your
servicio
."

Javier frowned at Nacho. "Why did you not suggest him?"

Nacho sighed. "Because it was too dangerous. Look at what's happened."

"Yeah," I said, "Just look at what...hey, exactly what
has
happened?"

"I was drugged and kidnapped. People are missing."

"And so you quite naturally decided to drag me into it, but not Chino?"

He shrugged. "You had a boat, and were in La Paz. There was no plan for you to even leave the anchorage. A marine biologist, on the other hand, would have to go out in search of the Red Devils."

I threw up my hands. "Squid, squid, squid. I'm sick of them. Anyhow, that slimeball, Artherrrr MacKenzie Gra-ham, said it was more to do with pearls."

Chino coughed, almost spitting coffee. "Art Graham? What on earth has he to do with anything?"