Table of Contents
ALSO BY RANDY WAYNE WHITE
Sanibel Flats
The Heat Islands
The Man Who Invented Florida
Captiva
North of Havana
The Mangrove Coast
Ten Thousand Islands
Shark River
Twelve Mile Limit
Everglades
Tampa Burn
Dead of Night
Dark Light
Hunters Moon
NONFICTION
Batfishing in the Rainforest
The Sharks of Lake Nicaragua
Last Flight Out
An American Traveler
(An Introduction)
Tarpon Fishing in Mexico and Florida
Randy Wayne Whites Gulf Coast Cookbook
with Carlene Fredericka Brennen
FICTION AS RANDY STRIKER
Key West Connection
The Deep Six
Cuban Death-Lift
The Deadlier Sex
Assassins Shadow
For Wendy, again, and my pal, Dr. Brian Hummel
AUTHORS NOTE
I called upon experts in various fields who kindly provided information used in writing this novel. I take full blame, in advance, for any misunderstandings that may have led to factual errors.
Thanks to Dr. John Miller for the ingenious idea of using shrimp as weapons of terror, and to Dr. Brian Lapointe for many years of advice related to marine biology and Marion Ford. Capt. Peter Hull and dolphin expert Kim Hull of Mote Marine once again provided valuable counsel.
For insights into massage, and the massage industry, I called upon several people, including old friends Nick Swartz, head athletic trainer, Kansas City Royals (and MLB American League All-Star selection); Dr. Brian Hummel, M.D., FACS; and Dr. Dan White, DC. Jean Baer, consultant to spas and resorts in Florida and the Bahamas, provided valuable information that was not available through conventional sourcesbut should be.
For information on Freemasonry, I called upon Col. Gerry Bass, Ralph Benko, and Matt Hall of Captiva, as well as Barry Thrasher at Tropical Lodge #56, Fort Myers, Florida, where, in 1985, I was raised as a Master Mason.
For general information on fishing, life, and interesting beverages, the following people were incredibly helpful: Mark Marinello, Marty Harrity, Greg Nelson, Dan Howes, Brian Cunningham, Kevin Boyce, Steve Carta, Stu Johnson, Scott Fizer, Gary Terwilliger, David Osier, Capt. Jeffrey Cardenas, Capt. Chico Fernandez, Capt. Flip Pallet, my uncle Phil Byers, my sister, Kay White, and Bill Spaceman Lee.
I would especially like to thank Nick and Karolin Troubetzkoy and the staff at Jade Mountain and Anse Chastanet, Saint Lucia, in the Eastern Caribbean. It is among the most beautiful and brilliantly designed nature-oriented resorts I have seen. While I was writing there, Della Thornille, Jondel Bailey, and Peter Jean-Paul were unfailingly helpful, as were my friends Karyn and Michael Allard.
As usual, I wrote parts of this novel while on the road, and I want to thank staff at Dave Taylors Cypress House, Useppa Island, and Doc Fords Sanibel Rum Bar and Grille for their input, kindness, and forbearance: Jean, Lindsey, Rachel, Michelle, Liz, Allyson, Matthew, Alex, Khusan, Millie, and Kevin.
Finally, I would like to thank my sons, Lee and Rogan White, for once again helping me finish a book.
For a great bachelorette party, try planning a weekend getaway at a spa or tropical resort. Get pampered, go sightseeing, dance with dashing foreign men who dont speak English. Pack a survival kit... including a disposable camera. The pictures you take at the bachelorette party will come in handy when you need to blackmail the bride later!
ADVICE TO MAIDS OF HONOR www.ForeverWed1.com
My grandfather was a powerful Houngan, a vitch [voodoo priest] known from Nassau through the islands. Now Im a Houngan, keeper of that knowledge. I will tell you about assault obeahs, blue stone, fire, blood spells, and the lost Books of Moses. But you cannot write everything I tell you.
VICTOR SMITH Free & Accepted Mason, Queen Esther Chapter #2 Cat Island, Bahamas (in conversation with the author)
IT WAS A SIMPLE EXCHANGE. Clean. So why did things go so wrong for the determined young bride?
I flew to the Caribbean on a Wednesday, and Thursday morning gave the blackmailers bagman a routing number to an account containing $109,000. The bagman gave me a video shot secretly at a party thrown by my goddaughter, Shay Money, for her bridesmaids.
In the sepulchre chill of a cubicle provided by the Bank of Aruba, I popped the cassette into a minicamera long enough to confirm its contents before nodding at the teller.
Yes. She could transfer the funds.
Bagman and teller conversed in patois French as I stowed the cassette in a briefcase, focusing on details to mitigate my nausea. Inside the mens room, I filled a marble sink with water, then lathered face and hands, but the taint was subcutaneous, associative. Soap couldnt cut it. I had helped Shay with high school homework. Id fielded her homesick letters when she was a college freshman.
After leaving the bank, I pulled my rental around the block, waited, then followed the bagmans Fiat to a waterfront bar. Big round man, big round head. I battled the urge to snatch him from the parking lot, then drive to a secluded place.
Im no longer authorized to do that sort of thing.
Eight hours later, I landed at Miami International, then caught a commuter flight to Fort Myers Regional, a forty-minute drive from my home and laboratory on Sanibel Island, southwest coast of Florida. Shay, now twenty-six, with a masters in business, was waiting.
Did you check luggage?
I was carrying the briefcase and a recent issue of Journal of Invertebrate Pathology.
Never.
Ah... I forgot. All those research trips, studying fish in foreign countries. Whats the secret to packing light?
Simple. Wear dark clothes, and always save your second pair of socks for the flight home.
The girl laughed as we hugged. Doc Ford, the mysterious biologist. I picked the right guy.
I said, Its been awhile. Well see.
Shay had her arm around my waist, shoulder wedged into ribs, thumb hooked to my belt. She was her usual affectionate, alpha-female self, body docked to mine so she could steer me efficiently toward baggage, or her awaiting car. But there was an intensity to the way she hugged close. This was a frightened women desperate for asylum. Had I provided it?
Life may be a chemical-electrical process, but living is a procession of uncertainties, one damn thing after another. Somehow, that truth makes lying easier.
Did everything... go okay?
Couldnt have gone smoother.
You feel good about it?
Better than expected. Very businesslike. Weve been dealing with pros.
The money transferred from my account fast enough. I checked. Geezus, one hell of a chunk. Were you... surprised by the amount?
Not surprised, shocked. But I replied, A lot of money.
My entire savings.
Youve saved that much since college?
Well... plus Daddys life insurance.
Insurance? He didnt seem like the type.
I know, I knowa man like him being thoughtful was as unexpected as him dying. I thought I told you about the check. After the honeymoon, Michael and I couldve