17.1 Croaker Hole

The Tayana stopped off the coast of Mustang Island on the barrier reef encrusting Corpus Christi Bay. Meanwhile, Paul Clancy in Playa Del Rey, listened to the thirty minutes on the tape; Natalia’s communication with Noth Wellinois. He asked Joe, the black man, to take the boat out into the cove. He called two other guys, Travis and Ricardo, to go to the motel room and remove all their belongings and collect the vehicle.

He gave instructions, “Drive the vehicle on Texas 361 Highway to Access Road, turn west, side-track the road block gate and drive to northwest end; the Croaker Hole. When Joe arrives on the dinghy, go to the boat and bring the girls. Do exactly like I told you.”

Travis and Ricardo climbed the white Chevy van at twelve midnight and made it to Days Inn. The crowd had lessened, the Saldívar episode was over. A light rain started. There was still a police presence and the area lit bright. They walked calmly towards the rear to the South Wing and scaled the steps to the second floor. Took the corner by the corridor aligned with white brick walls and pink pillars to Room 252.

Meanwhile, Room 158 where Saldívar stayed was under police cordon and a crime scene. Some folks had drawn graffiti on the door already.

Ricardo switched on the lights, opened the minibar and cracked a cold one. “Check the bathroom, clothes or anything! Let me have a beer!” Travis demanded. They wore gloves. Both stuffed the two suitcases with the girls’ belongings and their handbags too. After two beers, they rolled the luggage out like two guests checking out.

They did not enter the registration lobby, passed the building in the drizzle and crossed Navigation to the white van parked on the opposite side. Loaded the bags and returned to Days Inn looking for the Ford Bronco.

Ricardo Ramos slipped into the lobby, picked a brochure and paused briefly by the white counter to read it. Then he moved away holding the brochure in his face. Ricardo left the room key sneakily on the counter. He was caught on the security camera wearing gloves.

They searched the lobby front which was a crime scene that night. Lit bright and they could see each and every vehicle in the parking lot and only a few remained. They searched the rear side behind the South Wing and failed to find the Bronco. Travis and Ricardo returned to the van and called Paul Clancy.

Meanwhile, Natalia seated on the bunk in a back-to-back position with Angela succeeded to free the tape from her wrists. Angela detached her gag and began to talk immediately. Natalia tried to stop her but unhelpful in the dark. “Let’s get out of here! What’s going on, Mono? Do you know these guys?”

Angela removed Natalia’s gag. “Shush!” whistled Natalia, “They must be listening! Microphones!”

They both cut free.

And then Natalia opened the hatch slightly and got sprayed of water in the face. It was raining. “I do not know where the hell we are!” Natalia whispered, “But this boat has travelled miles! And there must be people on the boat.”

“Who are they?” asked Angela.

“I think that white guy is Paul Clancy.”

“Do you think they will kill us?”

“He’ll find no choice,” responded Natalia, “after listening to my tape recorder. He’s listening to Wellinois interview. This million-dollar deal…that is a lie.”

The Uniden CB radio hanging on the top corner over the sink in the galley cracked, “Del Rey 431 calling Valor!”

Joe picked the handset and replied, “Joe here! Go on! It is raining like hell!”

“Ask them, where did they park the vehicle!”

“What?”

“Now be careful!” warned the caller, “Go and ask them where they parked the Bronco!”

“Will they say?”

“Go and make them talk!”

Natalia heard the door unlock. She rolled on to her right on the bunk. Joe opened the door folding aside on hinges and poked his head. It was dark. Natalia kicked the door in his face, his head knocked on the woodwork jamb. Natalia grabbed his T-shirt and chocked a knee in his nose. That big man stumbled heavily to the floor. Her kick was so strong that the door tore from its hinges on the top.

“Get aside,” cried Natalia, “away from the door!” She picked the Colt that Joe dropped from his hand. She paused behind the door looking for any other crew. No one came down the companionway. It was quiet but the radio continued to crack.

“Stay here!” Natalia checked the first door on her right; the water closet. Advanced to the saloon and stepped into the galley, checked the bunk room; Curtis cabin. She climbed up the companionway on a reverse step with the gun in her hand and checked the deck in the rain. Nobody was there.

She turned around to find Angela standing on the steps that gave her some fright. “Let’s tie that bloke!” she stumbled down in hurry.

They pulled the heavy guy to the stainless-steel post in the saloon. She tore his dark blue T-shirt, rolled him over and removed the shirt down to his wrists and tied his hands from behind. She drew his trunks down to his ankles and tied the legholes up and under the waist band to secure a tight knot. Then with a nylon twine, tied his elbows to the post.

They climbed to the deck in the rain. “Where are we? There’s not a light in sight!” cried Natalia.

“We have a dinghy!” Angela pointed a little craft in the tow, “with an outboard. I go fetch a light!” Angela returned with a flashlight and skimmed the surface, “It’s not deep.” She traced the distance, “There is land!”

The guy inside began to yell for help. Natalia ran down the steps and butted his head. Angela was shocked. “Where’s the duct tape?” shouted Natalia and gagged him with a shirt she reached in the cabin. Dropped a pillowcase on his head.