The Abductors Book 2 Justice Served: A John Burton Novel

By Richard Lippard

John Burton is the only survivor of the brutal attack on him and his friends off the coast of a small island in the Bahamas Fully recovered from his gunshot wounds, John heads for Miami in hopes of finding the killers of his wife and friends. There, he meets up with an unlikely partner, and the two of them track down the killers. Bent on revenge, John plans the assassination of each member of the pirate crew. But after meeting Miranda in Miami, John has a change of heart. He contacts FBI Agent Sally Martin with a plan so outrageous that it reaches the president of the United States. With the president's approval, the FBI, the DEA, and John can issue a crippling blow to the illicit drug traffic along the entire eastern seaboard of the United States. In the process, John can even earn his freedom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 12, 2020
• ISBN: 9781647012212

Book preview

Chapter 1

Bahaman Islands: Tuesday, October 16

The sun rose higher, filling the room with light and warming the man’s face. He lay there on the bed under a single white sheet that had seen better days. His eyes opened and closed, opened again and closed again as he struggled back into consciousness. He could hear movement somewhere in the distance, but the sound was unfamiliar to him.

Once again, he opened his eyes, and through the haze and fog, he began to make out the slow, monotonous circular motion of the brown wooden blades of the fan circling above his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again and tried to focus on the movement of the fan’s blades.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, the blades said to him as they sliced through the air. He could feel the air move around his face, and the sheet rippled gently over his body.

He turned his head to the right and saw the wall next to him. He turned his head to the left, away from the wall and tried to focus on his surroundings. He recognized that he was in a bedroom, but nothing seemed familiar to him.

Trying to rise, he was immediately overcome with pain—pain in his right side and pain in his right shoulder. He lay back on the bed, beads of perspiration on his forehead, and moaned loudly, squeezing his eyes shut to stop the pain. Again, he tried, and again his body was racked by the sharp, searing pain. His breathing came in short gasps.

Ah, you are back, came a voice from the distance.

The man’s eyes opened again as he sought out the voice. There. Standing in the doorway—a black man, leaning against the door jamb, his arms folded across his chest. He straightened and walked over to the bed, bent down out of sight of the wounded man’s vision and then reappeared, holding a wet face cloth which he gently used to wipe the perspiration from the man’s forehead, cheeks, and neck.

You had me and Hannah goin’ there for a while, the black man said. Didn’t know if you was gonna make it or not.

Who? Where? the man tried to ask, struggling to rise. Again, the pain in his side and shoulder overtook him, and he lay back on the bed, panting and grimacing.

"Name’s Theodore—Theodore Wheeler. Most folks just call me Theo. You’re here in my house. Hannah and me, we found you unconscious at the edge of the water down below—nearly half-drowned you was. And bleedin’. Oo-ee, was you bleedin’! Sharks circling out in the water, not ten feet from you. Two more hours, and they’d be havin’ you for breakfast. Lucky for you we’s happenin’ by.

"Anyways, me and Hannah, we pulled you in and brought you home. That was three days ago. Hannah—she’s had some nurses’ trainin’—she patched you up. There ain’t no doctor on the island. Like I was sayin’, you was shot—twice—in the side and under the shoulder—through and through they was. Lucky for you, but you lost a lot of blood.

You lay back fo’ now and relax and sleep. Hannah’s gone to the market. She’ll be home soon and she’ll change your bandages. You need rest now—to build up your strength. I’ll be jes’ outside the door, in the other room. You need something, you jes’ call out, you hear? I’ll be right outside. You’re safe now. Nobody gonna do you no harm. You jes’ rest."

Theo slowly walked to the door then turned to look at his patient before going out. The man on the bed closed his eyes and tried to remember as sleep mercifully took him away from the pain in his body. But it was an uneasy sleep, bothered by dreams and pictures—violent pictures—of rapes and killings.

He cried out Jackie! in his sleep, and great sobs shook his body and made him cough, but he did not wake. Instead, he tossed and turned and cried out in pain and in anguish, until his sheets and pillow were damp from the sweat caused by the fever in his body and his head.

Several times he thought he felt a cool touch on his neck and forehead, but each time, his mind brought him to that awful time he had spent in the water. Reality? Imagination? He couldn’t tell the difference. Both wove their intricate patterns through his subconscious mind until it was hard for him to distinguish one from the other.

The dreams came and the dreams went, but the pain stayed with him. He would open his eyes occasionally and saw the fan slowly turning above his head; once in a while, the smiling face of an angel would stare down at him and give his parched lips a sip of water. At other times, she would feed him something hot, like a broth—a clear broth that tasted of chicken and—what?—something sweet.

For two more days and nights, the man floated in and out of consciousness as the fever and the wounds to his body sapped his strength, and at noon two days later, exhausted and weak, he opened his eyes for good.

The angel and the man named Theo stood over him, staring down at his weakened body. The sheet was no longer covering him, and he lay there in only his boxer shorts, fresh bandages wrapped around his shoulder and mid-section. The man on the bed stared up at the two of them and blinked his eyes, and then he rubbed them with his knuckles and stared at them again.

What day is it?

Monday, the twenty-second, the angel said, leaning down and placing her fingers gently on his neck while she held her other arm up to look at her watch. Nothing more was said while she mentally counted off the seconds and the pulse beats.

Seventy-four. That’s much better than yesterday. And your temperature’s down too, she said confidently. Looks like you’re gettin’ better. Theo, see if we can get him to sit up.

Theo leaned down and put his arms around the man, carefully avoiding his injured areas and gently lifted him while the angel helped swing his legs over the edge of the bed. A few groans and short expletives and the man made it into the sitting position.

How do you feel? the angel asked.

Sore, was the man’s reply.

Well, that’s to be expected, she nodded. Now let’s see if we can get you up on yo’ feet.

Slowly the two of them helped the man to stand. He took a deep breath and grimaced but managed to stand on his own. He let them step away and then tried to flex his right shoulder, but the bandage held it firmly to his side. He took another breath and then slowly stepped away from the bed. Dizziness swept over him, and he became light-headed, and his face became pale. Theo immediately stepped up next to him and slid an arm around him and held him up.

Whoa, the man said.

Easy, easy, Theo said. Let’s jes’ sit you back down on the bed. Hannah? Help me, will you?

Together they eased him back onto the bed. He sat up straight and breathed in precious air. Each deep breath caused him discomfort, but he continued to breathe in and out, his chest rising and falling with each effort. Slowly the lightheadedness left him, and he was able to concentrate.

Monday you say? Monday the twenty-second?

They both nodded in unison.

Tears formed in the man’s eyes, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand.

Monday. It’s almost been a week…

A heavy sob worked its way up from deep inside the man and exploded into the air, and then a steely look fought its way up out of the pain and anguish in his face and a firm resoluteness took over.

This here’s Hannah, Theo offered, introducing his wife to the man on the bed.

John. John Burton, the man responded, trying to raise his bandaged right arm. Pain shot through his shoulder and he stopped, offering instead his left hand.

Hello, John Burton, Hannah said, gently squeezing his hand in hers. You jes’ take it easy for now. No need to overwork yourself. Are you hungry? Care to try something solid? I’ve got a fish stew heatin’ in the kitchen. If you think that’s too heavy, I can heat up some broth and give you some homemade bread.

John smiled weakly. He had no stomach for food but knew that he had to eat something. Fish stew, if it’s not too much trouble. Thank you.

Fish stew it is. Theo, want to help John into the kitchen?

Yes-um, he answered, bending to help John stand. You about my size, he added. I got a pair of pants might jes’ fit you.

He helped John into the pants and tied a rope through the belt loops to secure them and then the two men slowly made their way into the kitchen. Hannah had the table set for three and was ladling a chunky concoction into the bowls as they appeared. There was a homemade loaf of bread and a jar of jam in the middle of the table, and next to each bowl was a bottle of water.

Theo eased John into a chair and then sat at right angles to him. Hannah took the seat to his left. They placed their hands together in prayer and Theo began:

Lord in heaven, we thank thee for your bountiful gifts. We thank you for all that you have done for us and all that you have given us. We thank you for our guest, John Burton, and we thank you for your healing powers. Look after this man and heal his physical and mental wounds, oh Lord, for his is a troubled soul and needs your help. Praise be the Lord.

Praise be the Lord, Hannah replied simultaneously.

Amen, John added softly.

They ate quietly. Without knowing why, John felt comfortable and at ease with these people, and over the next few days, he learned a lot about them. Theo was a fisherman and handyman. He was born and had grown up on the island. Hannah had also been born here and had gone to nursing school in Miami for two years, hoping to become a registered nurse. When her mother died, she had come back to the island to take care of her two siblings. She met Theo upon her return, and the two of them had fallen in love. They married when the younger sibling turned eighteen, and now the two of them were saving what little money they earned so that Hannah could go back to college.

Theo was four years older than Hannah and, at age twenty-six, was a solid one hundred eighty to two hundred pounds, by John’s reckoning. He was a handsome man—very black—with solid features, topped off by a constant, friendly smile.

Hannah, his bride of just fourteen months, was as tall as he, with close-cut nappy black hair. She was a striking beauty who could flash a dazzling smile in an instant. She was lanky: all angles and bones, thin and small-breasted beneath her red plaid cotton shirt, and her long slender legs did little to fill out the faded jeans that covered them. But her face—the angel face that John had awoken to—was beautiful beyond description.

They made him feel right at home, and in the four weeks that John spent recuperating there, they went out of their way to help him regain his strength. They could not, however, help him with the mental anguish that he suffered. They could only listen to his screams at night as he called out to his lost wife.

John took long walks around the island as the days passed. Sometimes Theo would join him, sometimes it was Hannah, and sometimes both of them would accompany him as he slowly regained his strength. The island was small—only thirty-nine families lived on it, but there was a good market that provided the bare essentials that the islanders needed to survive. There was no telephone service on the island, but Long Island, much larger and more populated, was only twenty minutes away by boat.

John took to running along the beach as his wounds were healing, and swam in the little inlet not far from the Wheeler’s cottage. His shoulder gave him problems at first, but as the pain receded and the days wore on, he was able to do more. He tried sit-ups and push-ups and grimaced through the pain until he was able to do these too on a regular basis.

Finally, after two weeks of exercise and pain, of learning about his host and hostess, and healing steadily, John was able to tell them about the terrible ordeal that took place aboard the Dram Bouie, about the rapes and the murders and how he had managed to escape. He had been in the water for approximately seven hours when Theo found him. How he had survived for that long in the water was a mystery. How he had evaded the sharks was a miracle.

Theo and Hannah made discreet inquires at the market, but no news of the missing boat was forthcoming. John would climb to the top of Devil’s Rock, the highest point on the island, to scan the horizon for any sign of the Dram Bouie, but his efforts were futile. No sign of the boat was ever seen. Off in the distance he could make out Long Island, and he wondered if any news of the stolen boat could be found there.

Theo and Hannah offered to go to Long Island and contact the local police, but John adamantly insisted that they not do so.

No, he explained, I’ve got to find these people first. Please, for your own safety and well-being, let me find them. Who knows what they might do to you if they know you have helped me?

Theo understood, and although Hannah kept insisting that he contact the law, she gave in to John and her husband’s urgings to keep the matter quiet.

How will you find these people? Theo asked one afternoon as the three of them walked along the shore.

I don’t know, their guest answered, but I will. All I know is the name of the captain and the name of his boat and that it was from Miami. It’s a start.

Hannah told John about her cousin Miranda who lived in Miami and said that she might be able to help him with a place to stay once he got back to the mainland. Hannah would call her and ask for her help.

Chapter 2

At the end of five weeks, Theo took John to a friend on Long Island who would help John get to Miami. With no papers and no passport, it would be tricky, but Theo assured him that he and his friend would help. And so, with promises to keep in touch, John left Hannah, and he and Theo headed for Long Island. All that John possessed when he waved goodbye to Hannah on the dock was the pants and a shirt that Theo had given him, an old pair of top-siders that were a little too big for John’s feet and ten dollars American that Hannah took from a coffee can and pressed into his hand, along with Miranda’s telephone number and address in Miami. They arrived on Long Island twenty minutes later and tied up the little dinghy alongside the dock.

Come on, John, les’ see if we can find our man. His name’s Nomo—that’s short for Sunomo—and he’s got a fishin’ boat that he takes parties out in. His boat’s tied up on that other dock. Looks like he might jes’ be in.

John followed Theo down the dock and around to the next pier. Sure enough, another black man was at the back of a fishing boat, cleaning some equipment.

Afternoon, Nomo! Theo called out as they approached the boat.

Nomo looked up from his gear and grinned.

Afternoon, Theo. What brings you to my boat this time of day? he asked, suddenly noticing the white man standing next to him.

Got a favor to ask. You got a minute?

All the time you need, my friend, all the time you need. What can I do for you?

Mind if we come aboard?

Come on down, come on down, please. Who’s your friend? He have anything to do with this favor?

Never could fool you, Nomo, no, sir. Well, this here’s John Burton. John, meet Sonomo Ardoin.

John held out his hand, and the little black man took it in a vicelike grip and shook it, the strength of the little man’s handshake radiating up John’s arm and causing a little pain in his shoulder.

John, the little man said, releasing his grip and turning to Theo. Well then, what can I be doin’ for ya? Nomo sat and motioned his guests to do the same.

"Nomo, my friend, John here needs to get to Miami. His boat was attacked and he barely got out alive. His wife and friends were killed, and all he has left is what he’s wearing. He don’t want to go to the local constabulary. He wants to take care of this by himself back stateside. He’s got no papers, no passport, no money and he needs to get to Miami.

So what do you say? Theo continued. Can you help us?

Nomo looked at Theo and then stared hard into John’s eyes. John did not back down but held the other man’s eyes with his own. Nomo scratched the side of his face with fingers that were grimy with oil and dirt.

Nomo leaned in closer to his guests. Let me get this straight. You want me to smuggle this here man back into the US of A?

Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it smuggling, my friend. Let’s jes’ say you’re returning him to his home country.

Again, Nomo absentmindedly scratched the stubble on his cheek while he pondered Theo’s request.

You ain’t in trouble with the law, is you? he asked at last.

John shook his head. No, my wife and I and some friends were sailing back to Miami from the Cayman Islands when we were attacked. I’ve really got no way of proving who I am until we get back to the States, and I have no way of getting back into the country without your help. But once I’m there, I can prove who I am and I can pay you for your trouble. Please. I’ve got to get back to America.

Nomo stared hard at his visitor but could sense no deceit in the man. He slapped his hands against his thighs and stood.

When do you want to get started?

John looked at Theo and at Nomo, relief washing over his face.

How soon can you be ready?

Already am. All gassed up. I got plenty of water and beer and snacks down below. We’ll have to stop in Nassau tonight, but by late tomorrow afternoon, you can be in Miami.

Great! Nomo, I don’t know what to say. Thanks, man.

He reached out and took Nomo’s hand in his and shook it, prepared for the little man’s grip this time. Turning to Theo, he hugged the man and thanked him too.

Okay, then, Nomo began. Theo, help me store this here gear and then you two can help us cast off.

You got it, was the reply.

John watched as the two men stowed the fishing gear and then Theo jumped onto the pier.

So long, John, he said, saluting, and good luck.

Bye, Theo, John shot back, And thanks for everything. I owe you and Hannah my life—literally. I won’t forget it, believe me. God bless you both, and give Hannah a big hug and a kiss for me. You’ll be hearing from me again. I promise.

John saluted Theo back as his friend waved goodbye.

Nomo climbed the stairs to the wheel, adjusted something on the console, started the engine and pointed to Theo, who slipped first the front rope and then the aft rope, tossing them both onto the boat, one after the other. He waved once more to John and Nomo and watched as the Mary Belle pulled away from the pier.

John stood in the aft staring back at Theo and the pier as Nomo nosed the boat out into the open water, and then Theo turned and walked back up the pier and back to his own little dinghy.

There are bottles of beer and water and juices down below, Nomo called down from above. Help yourself and bring me a beer, would you?

John found the beer and water, helping himself to the water, and brought a bottle of beer up on deck.

Come on up, Nomo instructed his passenger.

John climbed the ladder, handed Nomo his beer and took a seat next to the man. Nomo took off the bottle cap, placed the bottle neck to his lips and took a long draw from the bottle, burped, wiped his lips with his sleeve and let out a big "Ah!"

John smiled and took a sip of his water.

Nomo checked his gauges, tapped one, and looked up at the horizon.

"We’ll be getting into Nassau at about six-thirty. We’ll sleep on board, and in the morning, I’ll go ashore for supplies. I’m afraid you’ll have to keep yourself out of sight when we arrive.

They know me and my boat, but they always check for passports if I have a charter on board. Shouldn’t be a problem if they don’t see you.

John nodded. They were silent as the boat made its way up the coastline of Long Island, and when, at last, they cleared the northern tip of the island and were headed out to open sea, Nomo asked, So tell me, John. You say you were attacked and your wife and friends were killed? That’s quite a story.

John nodded and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, Nomo was staring at him.

He took a deep breath and began: "No story, Nomo. We had sailed from Massachusetts—in New England—down to Miami and on to the Cayman Islands. It was a honeymoon trip. My wife’s name was Jackie. She and I and our friends, their son, and his friend were on our way back home when we were attacked by pirates. They killed my friend Mike and his son Eric and his friend Scott. Just shot them in cold blood.

"I managed to kill two of them before they captured me and my wife and Mike’s wife. Those sons-a-bitches took turns raping both women while I was tied up. I guess they had other plans for me because they didn’t kill me. I had to…I had to…I watched as they repeatedly raped my wife and Jeannie.

"When they were through with them, they just shot them and threw them and the others overboard. I managed to escape, but they shot me in the shoulder and in the side.

Theo found me in the water and brought me to his home. He and his wife, Hannah, literally brought me back to life. I owe them everything.

There was a long silence while Nomo digested this. He took another drag from his bottle and considered what to say next. Finally…

And you didn’t report this to the authorities?

Nope.

Nomo stared at the horizon in front of him and turned again to John.

I’m guessing there’s more to this than you are telling me?

John nodded.

You know who these people are, maybe?

John stared at the water in front of the boat. He took a swig from his water bottle. It was empty. Turning to Nomo, he declared, I know who the captain is, I know the name of the boat, and I know where the boat comes from.

And you seek revenge against this man and his crew?

Again, John nodded.

Nomo quickly raised and lowered his eyebrows. You’re expecting a lot to do this thing by yourself. Do you really think you can pull off this revenge?

"I have friends, but yes, I will do this alone if I have to. This man—he took my wife and unborn child from me. He also took my friends—my friends and business partner and family from me, and for this he and his men will pay."

Nomo could see the abject hatred in John’s eyes.

How do you know this man? Nomo asked curiously.

He told me his name, and I saw the name of his boat. I guess he didn’t think I’d live to talk about it.

Nomo fell silent, choosing to sip on his beer and stare at the open water. John too fell silent and felt the movement of the fishing boat beneath his feet as it slipped through the waves.

Finally, Nomo spoke. Here, take the wheel. I’m going to get another beer. Want one?

Sure, John said, sliding over to take the helm.

Just keep that compass heading in that direction. You can do that?

John nodded and settled himself into the captain’s chair and took control.

Nomo was back in less than five minutes, carrying two bottles of beer. He sat next to John and opened both bottles, handing one to John.

Go ahead, stay where you are. I’ll take over in a bit. You’re doing fine.

They continued on for another five minutes before Nomo’s curiosity got the best of him. So who is this pirate captain if I may ask?

John remained silent, his eyes moving from the horizon to the compass and back again, wondering just how much he could trust this man. Finally, he sighed and answered.

"He said his name was Jorge Escovar. His boat was called the Maria Elena II. It had Miami painted on the back under the name."

Ooh, Nomo replied, I have heard of this man. He claims to own a salvage company. Several of his salvages have been of a suspicious nature, but nobody has been able to prove that he did anything wrong. He ‘finds’ abandoned boats out on the open water and tows them back to various ports—Nassau, for example, and Miami. After a decent period, he is able to take ownership of these vessels and sells them, or strips them for salvage—all perfectly legal.

"Do you think that’s what he’s done with the Dram Bouie?"

Is that your boat?

It belonged to my agent. Custom designed one-of-a-kind schooner-yacht made in the late sixties. Completely refitted for our cruise.

Could be maybe I can snoop around when we get to Nassau. Maybe somebody’s seen it or knows where it is.

That would be great, Nomo, but be careful. These people killed my wife and friends without giving it a second thought.

Don’t worry, I’ll be real careful. There are rumors that he is involved with the cocaine trade coming in from Columbia. Again, nothing’s been proven, but I have heard that he is a dangerous man. Believe me, I will be careful.

Again, the two men fell silent, each nursing the beer that Nomo provided. They traveled on without talking until the island of New Providence appeared on the horizon. We’ll sail around it to the northeast side of the island. You ever been to Nassau?

John shook his head. No, but we were aiming for it when we were attacked.

It’s a beautiful place. Too bad you won’t be able to see it this trip.

Maybe someday…

Chapter 3

Miami, Wednesday, November 22

John looked at the clock on the console. It was after 6:00 p.m. In the distance, he could see the shoreline of Miami, with its tall buildings rising up from the sea.

We’ll be landing in twenty minutes, John, Nomo informed his passenger. I’ll need you to go below and wait until I tell you to come topside.

John nodded and patted the captain on the shoulder. Gathering up the bottles and plates and any other evidence that John was aboard, he carried everything down into the galley and tossed it into the trash can.

Nomo had already explained that he would have to remain out of sight until after dark, at which time he would be able to disembark from the boat and simply walk away.

No big deal, Nomo explained briefly. "I come into Miami at least once a month to shop or pick up supplies. They know my boat and hardly ever hassle me. I’ll just hang around until