Mac in Martinique, ch 6
Reconnaissance

Mac’s Voice-over:
Okay, I know what you’re thinking; what am I doing going along with this ridiculous scheme? The answer is simple. It was Jack. He’s always had a certain special gift for talking people into things. Even people who should know better… including me. Especially me. He’s been doing things like this to me since we were kids; he knows how to dare me. The situations are always ludicrous and Jack’s plans always sound crazy, but he’s got the heart and the guts to try anything… and I was just thick-headed enough to try anything on a dare.

I’m not a kid anymore and I know the type of trouble that we could be getting into now. I really didn’t believe that we were going to be able to go anywhere with that gold, but trying to talk Jack out of it now would get me exactly nowhere. I knew how stubborn he could be. He’d try to smuggle it out on his own if I refused to help, and he’d probably land himself in big trouble and drag Mike down with him. I decided to stick it out and try to make reason prevail.

Yes… I have been accused before of being overly optimistic…


The plan was foolproof… or so Jack stated repeatedly. There was a ship sailing for Spain today. All that was needed was to be on the pier—with their weighted luggage—when it was time to disembark. Jack reassured his friends that the captain was a man who they could trust, and that the ship was sturdy and sea-worthy.

To their credit, Mac and Mike remained a little skeptical.

“I want to see this ship, Jack.”

“We’re going to be seeing it for at least ten days during the voyage, Mac!”

“I want to see it before I sail on it. Just call me crazy, but I remember the airline that you booked for us when we flew to Singapore.”

“Can you say ‘flying garbage truck’?” Mike quipped.

“Mike! We got there safe and sound, didn’t we?”

Mike scowled. “We survived… but I was so air-sick by the time we got there that I almost didn’t want to!”

“That was a totally different situation than this... you’ll see.”

“Yes, I will,” Mac cut in. “I’ll see right now. And meet this captain. Where’s the ship berthed?”

“All right, Mac… if that’s what you really want,” Jack said mildly. “It’s in the same marina where we were yesterday. Pier number six.”

“Good. Let’s go.” Mac turned on his heel and headed for the door.

“But you won’t be able to meet the captain,” Jack added quickly. “He isn’t there right now.”

Mac stopped in his tracks, arms spread and hands braced against the doorjamb. He hung his head and wished silently for patience. He had to take a couple of deep breaths before he could ask calmly, “How much time have we got before we’re scheduled to depart?”

“Well, that depends…” Jack said, slowly, “It depends on how long it takes the captain to load his cargo.”

Mac glanced toward Jack in time to see his left eyelid flicker slightly. “Mike… keep him here until I get back.”

“Yes, Mac,” Mike said. She stepped lightly across the room and sat down on their stacked luggage, carefully repacked with layers of gold.

“I should go with you…” Jack began, but Mac cut him off.

“No, Jack. Sit. Stay!” Mac pointed, and Jack sat down obediently. “You can’t lie to me if you’re not with me. If I’m going along with this crazy scheme… it’s going to be on my terms. I’m going to check your story out.” He yanked the door open and left.

Jack shook his head sadly and looked up at Mike. “There’s just no trust left in the world.”

Mike gave him a lop-sided grin. “And who’s fault is that, Jack?”

Mac’s Voice-over:
In spite of my words, as I walked away from the bungalow toward the marina, I had an sneaking suspicion that I had played right into whatever plan Jack had had in mind all the time…


⌂


Mac’s Voice continues:
To my surprise, the ship was actually fairly nice. She needed a wash-down and a little paint, but her hull above the waterline was sound and her rigging well-maintained and fit. She had a dependable, lived-in look about her. Nobody answered when I stood on the dock and hailed the ship.

I walked up and down the pier, but I could find no one who would admit to belonging to the crew of this vessel. The less I learned, the more curious I got. Finally, I stepped aboard and looked around. Inside, the ship was reasonably clean, and the galley well-stocked. The hold was sealed and the padlock was immune to my trusty S.A.K. so I couldn’t peek inside and see the cargo. I left it for the moment and kept looking.

In the control cabin, I found a stack of maritime charts and some very new navigational equipment. It reminded me of the time I’d spent in college working on a marine research vessel. I’d gotten a crash-course in steering and navigation when the captain fell ill and we got caught in a squall… but that’s another story.

Not wanting to get caught snooping around, I left the ship quickly, but I didn’t return to the bungalow. Something was still bothering me about the situation. I wanted to learn more about where that gold might have come from. I needed a friend on the island that I could talk to… someone who might know some of the things that the travel agents left out of the brochures. Then I remembered Ricky the Rastafarian.


Mac stepped inside the diving shop, ducking so that he didn’t hit the wind-chimes with his head. Instead, he raised his arm and tickled the tiny silver discs with his fingers, setting of the chaotic music. Ricky’s head appeared instantly from behind a pile of life-vests.

“Oh… it’s you, mon! You crazy, coming back here!”

Mac was nonplussed. “You said to come back anytime…”

“Yes, yes… and you welcome to do so, but it is risky you comin’ here today! Them bad mon that you fought… they lookin’ for you!”

“I thought that you were going to turn them over to the police.”

Ricky hurried past Mac, sticking his head out of the door to see if anyone was outside. He pulled the door shut and turned around the sign so that it read ‘Closed—There's Always Tomorrow!’ “They gave me the slip before my boys could come and take ‘em in. Look, mon, you must take yourself out of this place! They come back anytime soon!”

“Uh huh.” Mac’s nagging doubts were hardening into paranoia. “Ricky, what can you tell me about this?” Mac brought out the single gold coin that he had palmed from Jack’s treasure.

Ricky’s eyes got wide and round. He grabbed Mac’s hand and thrust it down before anyone might see it. He backed away as if afraid to stand too close to Mac while he was holding such a tainted item, his voice becoming a ragged whisper, “Where d’ya find such a thing, my friend?”

“You recognize this?” Mac asked, slipping it back into his pocket. “I need to know.”

“I seen such once before, mon. Only one place a body can get such those… from a mon called DuGaul.”

“Who’s DuGaul?”

“He’s the one who does all the dirty work for the Big Mon on the island. Them bums who you helped me with yesterday… they work for him.”

“And he pays them with these?” Mac asked.

“No, mon… he only uses the foreign gold to pay the low-lifes who bring in his guns and drugs for him. Nobody will accept that stuff ‘round these parts. We can’t exchange it… only melt it down or use it for sinkers!”

“That’s smart of him,” mused MacGyver. “It keeps the smugglers off the island, so that there will be nothing to lead back to him on his home ground, and if any coins turn up on the island and he hears about it…”

“And he would, mon… he’s got eyes and ears everywhere!”

“You said this guy works for the ‘Big Man’… who is he?”

“I don’ know his name, mon. DuGaul is bad enough… I don’t want to know who’s pulling his strings!”

“Well thanks, Ricky.” Mac offered his hand.

Ricky shook his hand, and then slapped his palm and snapped his fingers. “Any time, mon.”

Mac smiled at him. “My name is ‘Mac’, you know.”

Ricky laughed. “I know! But with my accent… if I said that, I’d make it sound like ‘mock’! You be cool, mon, and keep you head down!”


Mac’s Voice-over:
After my talk with Ricky the Rastafarian, I was beginning to have second doubts about Jack’s ‘flawless plan’… and third and fourth doubts, as well!

But there was new blood on the waters of the Caribbean these days. Ricky didn’t know the name of the man behind it all, but he could tell me the name of the man who was running bossing around the thugs who had been leaning on him—a man named DuGaul. I had no proof that he was involved with this gold, but I had a feeling…

Ricky couldn’t tell me anything about where I might find this guy, so I left his store intent on returning to the bungalow. I had to try again to talk Jack out of this.


Mac jogged down the boardwalk, back toward the bungalow. It was about twenty-minutes away at an easy walk, but if he hurried and took a shortcut or two, he thought that he might make it in ten.

Turning down a narrow alley, Mac was forced to weave his way through baskets of refuge and perilously stacked crates. There was discarded waste lumber lying around, rusting nails protruding and promising tetanus shots.

He watched his feet carefully and, therefore, did not see the man lurking inside a doorway. After Mac walked past him, Chink stepped out and swung the baseball bat he had been holding. It struck Mac across the back with an ugly sound. Mac groaned and went down to his hands and knees, fighting the blackness that suddenly filled his vision.

Mac’s Voice-over:
As the blackness began to win, it occurred to me that it was not Jack’s plan that was fool-proof… but that I was a fool who was plan-proof!


~~~tbc

What are Mac and Mike thinking going along with this???

Stupid Chink!

That doesn't sound very good.

That doesn't sound very good.

Don't worry... Chink is not Asian! No implied racism in this quote! They call him 'chink' because he when he was working as muscle in the states, his weapon of choice was a chain.

Yes, I have detailed files on all my mooks... it's a sign of my obssessive compulsive writing disorder!

Hey! If you're able you got to fix the misspelling in the title... it's throwing off my searches.

D'oh!