Hung Out to Dry Read online

  There was something else that Castille’s deceased mother had told him on his first day at the primary school’s gate, “Watch who you speak to and what you say. Walls have ears and people remember things.”

  He had carried those admonitions from that day on. He had interpreted them in his adult years to mean always be discreet in whatever you said and did. Hence, his practice of having ‘short and sweet’ conversations had become his trademark, part of his method and tradecraft.

  With that in mind, Castille followed his well-established practise of disposing of the phone he had just used for a fourth time during his three-day stay in Mexico. This was just one of the several basic phones he always took with him on overseas trips. Once he had used one of them four times, he would disable and dump it in pieces. This was to be the fate of the phone he now held in his hand in another ten minutes or so, once he was clear of his current location, a third-floor room in one of the more popular four-star hotels in the Cuauhtemoc borough of Mexico City. Any of the three remaining phones he had would then be used for the remaining two items of business he still had to conduct for The Organisation before he left Mexico.

  ***

  Demario ‘Spend Big’ Wharton was the Barbadian recipient of the call from Castille. Their third telephone conversation was, in a way, funny. Both men knew what to expect and believed that they understood each other. This latest call from Castille confirmed that Wharton’s Pressure Group should proceed with the agreed project in another forty-eight hours. Wharton knew what the project was and intended for his team to execute it flawlessly on the day.

  Without hesitation, he went to work. He spoke on his phone to the other three members of his Pressure Group. He advised them that the project had been green-lit and was in play for the fourth day of the week. Those listening to Wharton knew what this meant, having discussed it the previous Friday night after Wharton had received his first call from Castille. Nothing from their in-depth planning meeting last Saturday night had changed. They had no questions and made no comments except to acknowledge Wharton’s instruction by stating ‘Right’, ‘Okay’ and ‘Right on’ before Wharton ended each conversation with his standard ‘Be jolly now’ rendition.

  The project was safe between the four men. Each knew what had to be done, how, why and when. The where needed to be conveyed to them by late tomorrow (Tuesday) afternoon ahead of their assembly at 9:00 p.m. in the back room of Wharton’s popular Spend Big’s Bar & Grocery (SBB&G), located on the outskirts of St Michael. There, the Pressure Group would adjust the execution of its operational plan if necessary. Despite the noise that was always outside of the SBB&G’s back room, inside would be quiet. This was Wharton’s office, his private space. Here, no one dared interrupt them. As the owner and operator of SBB&G, Wharton had privileges. Not being disturbed was one of them.

  ***

  Having checked out of his hotel, Castille took a taxi to Beniteo Juarez International Airport to catch American Airlines (AA) 1:45 p.m. flight to the USA. The Organisation, for which he had worked for ten years, had arranged for him to go to Barbados in thirty-six hours after his Miami stop-over for some much-deserved R&R. Castille saw this down time as his weekend, and why not? Most persons worked five days a week and got two days as their weekend, so why shouldn’t he have a half-day less as his weekend?

  Once in Barbados, Castille planned to follow-up on the execution of The Organisation’s carefully devised plan. Everything was expected to go well before his arrival, making the impact of The Organisation’s plan over the following few days felt across Barbados by residents and visitors alike. The Organisation’s plan was three-fold. First, their package had to be collected. Second, it had to be kept in a particularly safe but unassuming place. Third, outstanding funds would be collected. As a bonus, causing some confusion for the local authorities should be easy to roll out and ensure his quick return to the USA.

  Piece of cake, he thought.

  Only time would tell how, and how well or badly the Barbadian authorities would respond to The Organisation’s planned incident. It could become more challenging for The Organisation if friendly countries with international agencies based in Barbados decided to respond to and help the local authorities. Were this to happen, support personnel from The Organisation’s fledgling Eastern Caribbean network might be needed to lend Castille some assistance but he did not anticipate this being necessary. However, should that come to pass, he would have to make some adjustments to The Organisation’s after-plan on the spur of the moment.

  Castille smiled to himself as he reflected on that possibility. Yes, the local authorities’ response to The Organisation’s plan might be timid, awkward even incompetent, but based on his research and experience, that was not likely. If they were diligent, bold and unafraid in how they responded, he would be tested. Whatever happened, he had no doubt that The Organisation would achieve its set goals by the end of the coming weekend. His plan was to depart Barbados on Sunday afternoon at the latest, so ‘cover’ from the three sporting and entertainment events set to take place in Barbados within one week would be sufficient. With these activities set to take place on specific days, times and at different locations, flexibility to make revisions to The Organisation’s plan was there. This was comforting to know.

  Castille was always confident about anything he set out to accomplish. His boss, the Head of The Organisation, knew this and had great confidence in his ability to get any project allocated to him over the finish line. He achieved, by hook or crook. It was why he felt relaxed and had no doubts that The Organisation’s Barbados project would succeed.

  Castille made the last of his Mexican calls on behalf of The Organisation from the back seat of his taxi. He spoke in Spanish and quickly received an assurance that payment for the outstanding moneys owed to The Organisation would be made later that day by its client. He would ask The Organisation’s accountants to check requisite bank accounts later that evening to confirm that the promised settlement had been made.

  Castille accepted the promise, but warned the client that should payment not arrive by mid-day tomorrow, he would return to Mexico rapidamente (quickly) to collect the much overdue payment for goods delivered by The Organisation which had the evidence that its goods had been received, sold and the benefits pocketed. For good measure, Castille suggested to this client that he should place a call to Max Frequente in Acapulco to see how he was doing. Frequente would verify that The Organisation did not make idle threats about collecting outstanding debts, especially if Castille had to visit.

  ***

  Satisfied with his review of what was planned for the next forty-eight hours and that his Pressure Group members would keep their mouths shut, Wharton wandered down to his local corner shop to purchase a copy of one of the country’s newspapers. As was his custom, Wharton first sought out the comics/cartoon page. After a few giggles, he turned to the sports pages observing that Mr Black had won himself another annual national road tennis championship, his fourth title on the trot.

  “Good for you, bro,” he growled.

  Next, Wharton turned to page seven, which listed all the court cases that had been processed during in the past week. This page also listed where and when the High and Magistrate Court cases would be presided over during the current week. Wharton paid special attention to the entries for Wednesday, 18 April at the District ‘A’ Court in Station Hill, St Michael.

  What he was looking for was right there, in black and white.

  “Good, got cha’ back, Stabs,” he said softly.

  With nothing else in the newspaper of interest to him, he tore out page seven before dropping the rest into the dustbin outside of the corner shop. The old adage about newspapers being today’s news and tomorrow’s garbage sprung to mind, except that in Wharton’s case, both had taken place on the same day, indeed within minutes of each other.

  “Be jolly now,” he said to himself as he set out on the short walk back to his house.

  ***


  Once Castille had checked himself in for his 1:45 p.m. flight to Miami in the AA area, he called one of his friends in Miami using the one phone he permanently kept with him. He firmed up the tentative arrangements earlier made for his thirty-six-hour stopover in Miami. Happy that the services of Frieda, Aisha and Sean (yes, all three) had been secured for the party that night at his apartment, Castille joined the line of passengers wandering towards the security check-point to gain entry to the inner side of the airport.

  Minutes later, he placed his personal belongings onto the conveyor belt leading into the security machine. He was fifth in line to be scanned.

  ***

  Chapter Three

  Retirement

  TUESDAY, 17 APRIL

  At 9:00 a.m. on another bright and sunny Tuesday morning in Barbados, a cloudless blue sky greeted Petra Carmichael as she exited the front door of her four-bedroomed Gibbs, St Peter house on the west coast. She did not expect her journey into and across Bridgetown this morning to take more than thirty minutes, as most of the rush-hour traffic heading from the north of the island to offices in and beyond central Bridgetown had passed her by earlier. She hoped the customary build-up of traffic would also have dissipated once she got close to Bridgetown, enabling her to pass through the city centre quickly and arrive at Government Headquarters well before the 10:00 a.m. appointment she had with her successor and visiting British officials. Carmichael needed to fulfil a promise that she had made to the Prime Minister prior to starting her pre-retirement leave.

  Truth be told, Carmichael did not want to leave her home until early evening when she would attend a two-pronged retirement function in her honour. She had arranged a Service of Thanksgiving at the Cathedral Church of St. Michael and All Angels in central Bridgetown to celebrate her thirty-five-year career in the Barbados Public Service. That would be followed by a reception at the Barbados Defence Force’s (BDF) HQ at the insistence of and hosted by the Rt. Hon. Jeffrey Zachariah Motby QC MP, Prime Minister and Minister of Finance, Economic Affairs and National Security. He was also the current Chairman of the Caribbean Economic Community (CARICOM), the twenty-member Caribbean political organisation comprising of fifteen full and five associate member countries.

  She carefully pulled out of her driveway into the flow of traffic. Once she got going, she kept a clear head but could not help reflecting on what had been a successful public service career and the new overseas assignment the Prime Minister had offered to her on her last day at work two weeks earlier. He had given her a fortnight to decide whether or not she would accept his offer, as he needed her answer before conclusion of the second part of her retirement function tonight.

  Carmichael had decided to give the Prime Minister her reply today during her visit to Government Headquarters. She had taken the fortnight to consider his offer, discussing it at length with her husband and three grown-up children. The family had agreed that she should accept the offer. When she greeted Motby just before 6:00 p.m. that evening, the only thing Carmichael wanted to have on her mind would be enjoyment of her retirement function.

  ***

  In Miami, Castille was a contented man. His carefully arranged R&R plans were going as smoothly as had his flight from Mexico City to Miami the previous afternoon.

  Frieda, Aisha and Sean had joined him at his apartment around 8:00 p.m. the night before. They had played their roles with him to perfection, making the night a memorable experience for all concerned. Now exhausted, but fully satisfied, Castille turned his mind to what he wanted to do for the rest of the day. He needed to do some shopping in one of the nearby malls later that afternoon before taking a 9:30 p.m. meeting with his boss in downtown Miami. He did not expect that meeting to last long, so he would get a chance to relax on his own and have a good night’s rest before travelling to Barbados the following mid-morning.

  Castille disliked early starts to his day, but tomorrow would need to be an exception. He decided that, in another hour or so, he would ask his three friends to leave. He would then clean himself up and work to fit in his plans for the rest of the day. Tomorrow’s AA flight from Miami should see him arrive in Barbados mid-afternoon. All things being equal, the proposed clandestine action should have been completed prior to his arrival on the island. That meant that he could not be directly connected to it. There would be sufficient time for him to collect his rented vehicle from the airport, drive to and check into his south coast hotel, shower, change and have something to eat before making his way to the agreed rendezvous location.

  ***

  Dr Winston Peter Smith GCM, Cabinet Secretary and Head of the Public Service (HOPS), left his office to go down the corridor to see Sharon Evans, Executive Assistant to the Prime Minister. Joseph Medbin, recently promoted to be Permanent Secretary in the Prime Minister’s Office following Petra Carmichael’s retirement, was present. They were reviewing the final arrangements for the second part of the night’s reception with Brigadier Michael ‘Mike’ Tenton, Chief of Staff, BDF and one of his junior officers who was acting as his driver today.

  “Hi Winston. All seems to be in order for tonight. My only concern is that the reception must start promptly at 7:45 p.m., allowing it to end as planned at 9:30 p.m.,” said Medbin.

  “Why is there this concern? We spoke about this a week ago. Surely we’ve been able to nobble the Dean and encourage him not to preach too long on this occasion?” asked Dr Smith.

  “We’ve tried, but I’m not sure that he will comply with our wishes. After all, it’s his church. Also, he likes a grand stage and when he sees one, he will want to –”

  Dr Smith cut across Medbin. “I don’t care about his performances. Please speak with him directly. Use my name – the Prime Minister’s too if necessary, to get our point across. The good Dean must understand what we’re trying to accomplish here,” said Dr Smith.

  Medbin recognised the signs that Dr Smith was starting to get grumpy, and so he sought to put an end to it by speaking directly to Evans.

  “Indeed! Sharon, please call the Dean and remind him that we have a tight schedule to keep tonight. His address must not be too long. I can speak to him later this morning after my meeting if you don’t get through to him, or think he’s not bought into what we want of him. Emphasise the not too long bit please,” said Medbin.

  “Sure thing. I’m on it,” said an enthusiastic Evans.

  “Thank you. Do let me know the outcome of your call with the Dean. I’m aware that we cannot tell God’s mouth-piece what to say, or for how long, but just the same, we can try. I’ll also make myself available to speak with the Dean to reinforce our message if all else fails,” said Dr Smith.

  “No need, Dr Smith. I’ll handle it.”

  “Very well.” Turning to Brigadier Tenton, Dr Smith continued. “Michael, your people will be ready to receive any early arrivals at BDF HQ from 6:45 p.m., right? Not all reception attendees will have gone to the church service.”

  “Yes, we are ready for that eventuality,” said Tenton confidently.

  “Good. I must again thank you and your people in advance for making the arrangements for tonight’s do. You’ll come to the service first, yes?” asked Dr Smith.

  “Of course, I need to see Petra off in the proper way and then drink to her release from Government service. Her longevity is to be commended,” answered Tenton.

  “Indeed. See you later then,” stated Dr Smith as he started to leave the room.

  “Yes…it’ll be a great night for everyone. Goodbye, Mrs Evans, thanks for the session,” said Tenton turning to his BDF aide, intimating that they should be getting back to BDF HQ.

  The three men followed Dr Smith out of Evans’ office. She waved goodbye to them, having started to dial Dean Mercer’s number.

  “Take care, Mike,” said Medbin as they entered the corridor. Once there, Tenton and his aide turned left and took the stairs which would lead them to the main car park outside Government Headquarters. Medbin and Dr Smith turned right to return to t
heir respective offices as a young Royal Barbados Police Force (RBPF) officer greeted them as he headed in the opposite direction.

  Medbin and Dr Smith passed the doorway to a small waiting room on their left which had a splendid view of Carlisle Bay through the closed window. Two military-looking men were observed speaking softly with Ryan Appleton, Chief of Protocol, Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Culture (MFAC). All three were obviously visitors to Government Headquarters, confirmed by the visitor’s passes that hung from around their necks. They had been escorted up to the third floor waiting room earlier by the young RBPF officer Medbin and Dr Smith had just passed in the corridor.

  Medbin recognised Appleton and the two men. They were British officials who were in Barbados conducting the second of their mandatory reconnoitre (recce) visits, before a member of the Royal Family would be allowed to make an official visit to Barbados and St Vincent and the Grenadines next month. Their job was to finalise the security arrangements for the first leg of the forthcoming Royal visit with the Governor General’s Office, RBPF and Prime Minister’s Office. Medbin knew that they would also travel to St Vincent the following morning on LIAT’s first flight to undertake their second recce visit for that leg of the Royal visit. The Prime Minister had instructed that the two men be shown some Bajan hospitality, and so they had been invited to attend Petra Carmichael’s retirement reception at BDF HQ later that night.

  “Let me say hello to these fellows, Winston. They’re early for our meeting,” said Medbin.

  “Knock yourself out, Joseph.”

  Medbin did not respond but noted Dr Smith’s response. It was typical of the man, direct yet charmingly polite. He could be humorous at times, but one should never take Dr Smith’s ready smile and humour to even suggest that he was an easy-going guy or a pushover. Quite the opposite. Most of his colleagues knew him to be one tough son-of-a-bitch to work for, even alongside. As Barbadians often say, ‘he wasn’t easy’.