The Echo of Violence

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Not even the mesmerizing beauty of the sea at night calmed Luc Toussaint.

The moon dappled undulating waves with shimmer as his slow-moving trawler navigated the Atlantic toward the Canal de la Tortue. Haiti and Port de Paix lay dead ahead. The crew of the Aquilina made ready for docking and had left Luc at the helm, alone with his thoughts. As captain of the commercial vessel, he normally took pleasure in the solitary feeling at this hour and drew comfort from being one with the sea. That feeling of serene isolation reminded him of the old days when he was a younger man—but not tonight.

He had other things on his mind.

To settle his nerves, he had smoked far too many cigarettes as he kept an alert eye on the horizon. He peered through the dim glow of the wheelhouse and beyond the reflection of the boat’s running lights on the water, searching for police on patrol.

Earning extra money for his family, he carried additional cargo in a special compartment known only to him and the men he worked for on the side. He played a small part in a smuggling operation with a splinter faction of a drug cartel, and his crew had no idea. His men knew nothing about any contraband on board.

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