Chapter 11 #3
Rex walked away, heading for the bar where he ordered a whiskey neat. Once he had the drink in hand, he strode over to a window. He stared out at the other boats moored in the harbor while watching the room behind him in the window’s reflection and the off-limits door in his peripheral vision.
Several minutes passed before the door opened.
Rex’s father came out. The door closed behind him.
The man crossed to the bar and ordered whiskey. As soon as the bartender placed the glass in front of him, he tossed it back and asked for another.
When the second glass was placed in front of him, James Johnson lifted it and glanced around the room. When he spotted Rex, he moved in his direction.
Rex kept his gaze aimed toward the harbor while watching his father approach in the window’s reflection.
When he came to a stop beside Rex, he quietly said, “You opened a can of worms.”
Rex played dumb. “How so?”
“Whatever you said to Holte spooked him. He wanted to know everything about you.” His father met his gaze in the reflection. “You told him you were a commodities importer?”
Rex shrugged. “Seemed a good idea at the time.”
“What game are you playing, son?” his father demanded.
“The real question is what game is Holte playing?” He met his father’s gaze and held it. “And maybe I should ask what part you have in it?”
His father’s frown deepened into a scowl. “Who the hell are you to question my associations? You wanted nothing to do with my business thirteen years ago. Why are you interested now?”
“I never have and never will have any interest in your business.” Rex lowered his voice to barely above a whisper, kept a poker face and added, “If your business deals in human trafficking, sex trafficking of underage females and murder, I’ll do everything in my power to shut you and your friends down.
” He followed his words with a tight-lipped smile.
“You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
“I have a start with Holte and possibly you.”
The door Rex had kept in his peripheral vision opened.
Holte walked out, followed by Lucien Vaughan. Vaughan had his hand on Holte’s back. He said something only Holte could hear, patted him on the back and looked around the room.
His gaze landed on Rex and his father.
“Now, I’ll bet Lucien Vaughan is another piece to the puzzle,” Rex said. “Brace yourself. He’s coming.”
His father stiffened beside him.
“James,” Lucien called out. “Where have you been hiding your son?”
James Johnson schooled his face and turned. “He’s been busy in the Army.”
“How is it this is the first time I’ve met him?”
Rex’s father waved a hand between Lucien and Rex. “Lucien Vaughan, my son, Rex.”
Lucien’s brow rose. “The Army, you say?” He held out his hand to Rex. “Thank you for your service.”
Rex gave a brief nod. “Nice yacht you have.”
“Thanks. It was a gift from a Saudi prince a couple of years ago. They know how to outfit a yacht in luxury.” He waved a hand around the room. “I’ve added a few things and changed a few to meet my needs.”
“Was the crane on it or added?” Rex asked.
“I had it added last year,” he said. “I like to carry my own tender boat.”
“What is the weight capacity of the crane?” Rex asked.
“Approximately seventy thousand pounds,” Vaughan said. “Give or take.”
“With a crane like that, you could go into the salvage business and raise cargo from the ocean floor, couldn’t you?” Rex knew he was pushing it.
Vaughan smiled. “I’ve considered it. I’m intrigued by the idea of discovering sunken treasure.”
“Do you scuba dive?” Rex asked. “Would you participate in diving to find the sunken treasure?”
Vaughan shook his head. “Other than a little recreational diving, I’d leave the treasure hunting dives to the experts.”
Rex glanced around the room. “I bet it takes a large crew to run a yacht this size. Do you have your own divers to maintain the hull?”
“Some members of my crew go under to scrape barnacles when necessary. I have the Lolita serviced twice a year to keep the hull clean and the engines in top shape.”
“Have you ever had a diver injured while diving for you?” Rex asked.
The man had a poker face. The only indication that Rex might have struck a nerve was a slight tightening of Vaughan’s jaw.
“Not once,” Vaughan said. “Now we’ve had crew members slip and fall on a wet deck, but no major injuries.”
“Or deaths?” Rex held Vaughan’s gaze.
“Not on this yacht. Not on my watch.” Vaughan cocked his head to one side. “Why do you ask?”
Rex shrugged. “Just curious what it takes to run an operation of this size and the pitfalls. You know, in case I decide to invest in one.”
Vaughan turned to Rex’s father, who stood to the side, his body stiff and his face unreadable to most.
Rex recognized the look. It was the same stony expression he used when he was angry and had to keep it together until he was somewhere he could let it out.
Vaughan held out his hand. “James, I’m glad you made it. It’s been a while since you’ve attended one of my soirées.”
James shook Vaughan’s hand. “Thanks for the invitation.”
Vaughan released James’s hand and faced Rex. “It’s been a pleasure, Rex. I hope to see you again soon.” His gaze swung to the right. “Ah, there’s my Chloe. I’ve neglected her for too long.” He left them standing by the window and crossed the room to the woman in the silver dress.
Rex wanted to go after Vaughan and Holte and ask more questions, but he was on Vaughan’s boat, surrounded by his hired security. Holte hadn’t admitted that he’d lost a container, nor had he confessed to knowing what had been inside it.
Vaughan had the ability to pull a container off the ocean floor, then send out a small boat to protect it until they could retrieve it and send divers to take out Kimo, thus eliminating the last witness to the gruesome truth.
Without concrete evidence, Rex couldn’t out-and-out accuse Vaughan and Holte of murder and attempted murder or of holding Alana hostage.
They still needed that camera for leverage. Not that Rex expected them to release Alana in trade for the camera and what was on it.
Most likely, they’d make sure Alana and Kimo would end up like the people they’d found in the container.