Fiction
Return To Shandy Bay Part 4
A Sunny Alexander-Johnson and Henry James Series By P.G. & Sharon Barnett
My name is Sunny Alexander-Johnson, and I’m Henry James, and we’re writers for Dark Sides of the Truth magazine.
After listening to some unknown person who we knew only as The Fixer tell us a cartel drug lord literally wanted our heads, we all looked at each other in amazement. What was even worse was The Fixer wanted us to do the very thing that would indeed guarantee that would happen. We were supposed to once again, break up a drug trafficking attempt, and at Shandy Bay.
Evidently, the first time wasn’t enough.
“Whoa, Mr. Fixer, whoever the hell you are. What you’re expecting us to do is jack up Enrique Escobar’s second try to bring drugs into the country at Shandy Bay, and in the process, set ourselves up for execution?”
“Precisely Mr. James.”
“Uh, not no, but hell no.”
“Evidently you don’t understand how this works. Right now, I’m the only person in the world keeping you alive.”
“Well, from where I sit, Henry’s got a valid point. Why can’t we let the police handle this and just walk away?”
“Because, Ms. Johnson, Escobar doesn’t really care if this latest attempt goes south. He’s an extremely resourceful man. He’ll find another way to get his goods into the country. But you two? Well, let’s just say he’s had a long time to think about what you two did on his first attempt. That’s why he commissioned me to take care of you. I intend to kill two birds with one stone.”
“Somehow, I don’t think we much care for the sound of that.”
“Ah, Roberto De La Cruz. I was wondering when you were going to chime in. By the way, I saw your fight with Gerald Tyler that night. Damned good footwork sir.”
“Whatever. So you’ve been commissioned to kill Henry and Sunny, and you have the balls to tell us you have? What kind of game are you playing, mister?”
“I assure you Mr. De La Cruz, this is no game. If you all do as I instruct everything will turn out as it’s supposed to.”
“And if we don’t?”
“Then I’m afraid Ms. Johnson both you and Henry are two dead people walking. It may not be tomorrow or the next day, or the next. But as long as Enrique Escobar is out there, you two and anybody associated with you will have a price on their head.”
“Okay, look asshole, we need some time to go over this. We’ll call you back later.”
“No. There is no time. You need to return to where it all started. A lot has changed since you two were here last and you need to understand the lay of the land. Call me tonight at precisely nine o’clock.”
“Hang on…”
“Don’t bother Henry, he’s gone.”
It took several seconds for us to digest what just happened. This was our second go-around with this strange disembodied voice, this mysterious telephonic enigma. The first time he’d been contracted by a VP of Bartley Manufacturing to take out Daryl Thompson, a man running for congressional office. And it seemed as if whoever this person was, they enjoyed little games of cat and mouse.
That time, he’d contracted a hitman and told him who the target was, then told us there was hit out, but forced us to figure out who the target was.
If we’d not brought our A-game to the table that week, somebody would have more than likely died. And now, we were the target, and this ghost had just informed us that our chances of staying alive depended on the very person hired to kill us.
Not very good odds from where we were sitting.
“So what the hell do we do now?”
“Sunny? Henry? I don’t know about you two, but I think we need to do as the person said. Do you guys remember how to get there?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Henry? What do you think?”
“I don’t think we have a choice Sunny. I hate the fact this asshole is playing puppet-master and yanking our strings, but whoever it is, they’re right about one thing. As long as Escobar’s out there, we’re done for. This may be our only chance to end this shit.”
It only took us twenty minutes to get to the overlook high above the bay. The last time we were here, there had been a couple of park benches and a freshly painted light pole. Now there was nothing but a parking area overgrown with gnarly weeds and thrush. What remained of the light pole was a metal tube sticking out of the ground.
Cupping our hands over our eyes to shade the effects of the afternoon sun, we scanned the shafts of rock that ringed the tiny bay for several minutes.
“Henry, look over there. Wasn’t there a trail right there cut out in stone and dirt this overlook is on?”
“Yeah, but I don’t see one now. You guys wait here. I’ll go take a look.”
It only took a brief three or four minutes before we discovered two critical changes to Shandy Bay. The first was the trail we’d previously used to get to the beach had either been purposefully filled in or overgrown with fauna and underbrush, or perhaps both.
Either way, egress to the beach via a trail that no longer existed was impossible.
The second was the boardwalk we’d used to get to the cave where we almost died, affixed only a foot above the waterline on one side of the towering stone walls forming the bay was in a complete state of disrepair. Enough of the walkway had long ago rotted out of sufficient proportion there was no way to walk from the beach to the cave without taking a bath.
From the looks of the tattered and broken boardwalk, we knew the boat pier inside the cave would have suffered the same state of wear and tear. We parted company, each of us searching, combing the cliff areas around the bay for egress or digress points Enrique could use. Almost two hours later, we convened at the overlook once again.
“Find anything, Roberto?”
“No, you?”
“Zilch. Henry?”
“Nothing. If Escobar’s going to use this spot, he’s probably going to hit the beach. Seeing the condition that boardwalk is in, it don’t make sense for him to try for the boat dock.”
“If it even exists any more.”
“Which it probably doesn’t, princess.”
“Stupid question here, you guys. If Escobar intends to use this beach, then how is he going to get his stuff off the beach?”
“From what I’ve just seen, Roberto, he won’t.”
“We’re missing something, Henry. It may not be obvious, but I think the Fixer knows something he’s not telling us.”
“Princess? It wouldn’t be the first time that happened.”
“Look, I suppose you two need your four o’clock feeding. Let’s grab a quick bite at the diner and then go back to the motel. I want to take a shower and rest for a bit. Remember, we have to call our mystery guest at nine tonight.”
“For food, I’d follow you anywhere, my Nubian princess.”
“Yeah, old man. Some things never change.”
Read On — Return To Shandy Bay Part 5
Let’s keep in touch: P.G. & Sharon Barnett ([email protected]) © P.G. Barnett, 2020. All Rights Reserved.
