by Pat McKee
“Do you think one of you could cut this strap?”
I searched Brown’s body for his blade, found it still in his hand, pried it out, and liberated Grey. He rubbed his wrists together before holstering his Glock, strapping his spare to his ankle, and slinging the Uzi over his shoulder.
“I knew Rebecca had our backs. I thought you’d follow my lead. I never expected you to go solo.”
“I’m learning new things about myself every day.”
“Good. Take a couple of those ties and strap Milano to that chair.”
As I did, the Gulfstream roared overhead.
“Just in time. In a few moments my pilot will be here to take me to Italy. When he finds me like this, I can assure you, there will be nowhere on the island you can hide.”
“I suspect it takes more than a few moments to turn around a Gulfstream, and by then, we will all be well off the island.”
“Whoever you are, wherever you go, there will be nowhere you will be safe. You will end up just like Placido.”
“Not when Paul tells his story.”
“And you think anyone will believe him? Other than myself, the only persons who can corroborate his story were blown up in that boat or were shot on Frederica Island. I will make sure Paul goes to prison for killing three innocent men. He’s no threat to me.”
“Well, I guess we’ll just take our chances.”
Rebecca motioned down the hall with the revolver still in her hand.
“Paul, there’s a young lady in the next room who I think will be happy to see you.”
I pushed open the door to the room where Brown had thrown Melissa. Instead of finding Melissa trussed-up on the floor, she was sitting on the bed, a sawed-off shotgun trained on the door. Melissa dropped the gun when she saw me enter the room, and we held each other for a moment without a word. Melissa was beaming and crying at the same time. She spoke first.
“Paul, when I heard the shot I feared the worst. I can’t tell you . . .”
I turned to Grey.
“How the hell did you and Rebecca get here?”
“It wasn’t long after you left that Ariel contacted us again. She told us we needed to follow you to Miami to keep you out of trouble. Rebecca convinced me we should postpone our fishing trip and give you a hand. Ariel has been in touch with us on each leg of your venture.
“We got concerned when you went offshore, so we followed you to Louis Town. We picked out Cabrini and Placido from the locals at the marina, and they told us about your plan and that something had gone wrong. We were with them when they got your message, and we put together a response. Last night Rebecca and I floated up to the north end of the island in a fishing boat when the Gulfstream take-off gave us cover. Placido told me about the security perimeter and the fact that the jet’s backwash always sets it off. We’ve been working on the island since then.”
I didn’t understand how things could have gone so wrong for Melissa’s father if what Grey was saying was true. “But Placido and Cabrini just walked into Anthony’s trap. Placido must’ve failed to get Melissa’s warning.”
“They got it. They are on the island; we just have to get to them before Anthony and the pilot do.”
“I saw the boat explode. No one could have survived that.”
“So did I. But Placido and Cabrini weren’t on Cabrini’s boat. They were on a Zodiac just outside the security perimeter. With Ariel’s help they piloted Cabrini’s boat remotely from there. They came ashore in all the commotion and set the Zodiac adrift so they wouldn’t be discovered.”
Melissa could not contain her sense of relief. Even streaked with blood and swollen from Anthony’s blows, Melissa’s smile bordered on beatific.
“Rebecca told me when she freed me. The only thing that made me happier than to see you walk in the door was to know Placido and Hector are alive.”
Grey became animated. “We need to save all this for another time. I believe Anthony when he said his pilot would be coming to find him. We haven’t much time and we need to get the hell off this island.”
Melissa reminded Grey that I had the fishing boat ready for a quick escape.
“We can get into the Whaler no problem. There’s plenty of room for all of us. We can be in Louis Town in twenty minutes.”
Grey had no way of knowing about Anthony’s boat, so I had to be the one to kill that plan.
“Anthony would run us down in that cigarette boat of his.”
“Rebecca and I saw no signs of a cigarette boat. He must have it stashed, and we have no time to look for it, otherwise we’d take it ourselves. We need something else. I can fly a single engine, but I can’t fly a jet. Unless we’re willing to shoot one of them, we can’t risk commandeering the crew. But we might be able to get to the plane if the pilot heads to the plantation house in search of Anthony. Melissa, can Placido or Hector fly that Gulfstream?”
“No, but there’s a floatplane just on the other side of the boathouse.”
“It’s probably only a four-seater, and we have six people who need to get off the island fast. If that’s all we have, we can give it a shot, but it’ll be a challenge to get into the air. Rebecca, you need to find Placido and Cabrini. I’m going to take these two to the plane and taxi to the other side of the dock. The three of you meet us there.”
Grey, Melissa, and I dashed across the field toward the boathouse. There was no sign of the Gulfstream pilot. I led Grey to the other side of the boathouse and the floatplane just beyond. Grey jumped in the water, holding his Uzi above his head, wading toward the plane. Melissa and I followed. The water was shallow when we jumped in, but before we reached the plane it was chest deep. I remembered Cabrini’s talk about the sharks and decided to put them out of my mind. Grey reached the plane first, climbed on a pontoon, pushed back a window, reached through, unlatched the door, and pulled himself in. Melissa and I went to the opposite side, climbed aboard the pontoon, and Grey pushed the door open.
The plane was small, barely room for the three of us. I remembered my backpack with my laptop, still under a seat in the Whaler. We were twenty yards off shore.
“Melissa, stay in the plane. I’ve got to go back to the boat.”
Grey was flipping switches, checking instruments.
“Forget it. You don’t have time.”
Ariel had kept me safe so far. I needed that laptop. I dove off the pontoon and swam to the boathouse, under the door to the Whaler where it was still tied up after I hastily cleated it, our escape thwarted. I climbed aboard, found the backpack, and jumped back in, holding it over my head. When I got on the other side of the door, I heard the engine on the floatplane sputter and saw blue smoke spew from the exhaust. Another sputter, then it caught. Grey gave it gas, pushed the rpms up, then throttled back, the engine smoothing out.
I was ten yards from the plane. The door flung open and Melissa jumped on the pontoon, urging me on, holding the strut, her hair streaming back. The plane began a slow turn, the engine throttled up, and water boiled around the pontoons. I grabbed the side. Melissa reached for the backpack, giving me an extra hand, and I pulled myself on the pontoon, and in the door. Grey gave it more gas and nosed the plane in the direction of the dock.
Someone ran across the yard to the house, took notice of the floatplane but didn’t stop. He wasn’t one of us, couldn’t have been Anthony, and must be the pilot; we didn’t have much time now. Grey taxied past the burning dock and what was left of the submerged hull of Cabrini’s boat, looking for any sign of our party. Fifty yards distant Rebecca, Placido, and Cabrini sprang from the trees on the other side of the house and dashed toward the water. Grey maneuvered the plane as close to the shore as possible, turned the nose toward the ocean, and cut back on the throttle. Our group splashed to the plane and climbed on the pontoons. Cabrini was the first in. He yelled to Grey above the engine noise.
“How the hell are we all
going to get in this?”
“It’s all we got. Jump in. Think small.”
Cabrini, Melissa, and I were squeezed in the two rear seats, Rebecca and Placido in the front passenger seat, Grey at the controls. Melissa reached forward and stroked Placido’s face, and he kissed her hand. As soon as Rebecca closed the door, Grey gave it full throttle. From the waves washing over the pontoons it appeared we were heading directly into the wind. The plane barely moved at first, then slowly picked up speed, but it was evident even to me that we weren’t going to take off the way things were going. Grey turned the plane perpendicular to the wind and coaxed more speed, picking up more and more, then pulled into the wind, about two football fields from shore. I could feel the pontoons getting lighter, the plane lifting above the waves, the engine laboring at full throttle.
Behind us someone—it must’ve been Anthony, now freed by the pilot—appeared on the veranda with Brown’s AR on his shoulder. He fired several rounds in our direction, ripping beside the plane, a couple rounds pinging off the pontoons. Everyone but Grey ducked under the windows.
“He’s not a very good shot, but if by chance he hits one of the wing tanks we’ve got trouble.” Grey pulled back on the controls, and we rose, just feet over the waves, rounds whizzing past, tearing into the sea beside us, a couple finding home, clanging the tail, so far harmless. In seconds the gunman had burned through a clip. If it was Anthony, I was betting he had no idea how to eject the spent clip or to insert another, and a feeling of relief swept over me, but not for long.
The pilot, who had just run across the yard, now appeared on the veranda with Anthony. He had a long tube on his shoulder pointed at us.
I reached forward to the door handle with one hand, and with the other I prepared to shove Melissa out of the plane and dive in behind her, not wanting to experience first-hand what I’d seen the RPG do to Cabrini’s boat. Grey grabbed my wrist and yelled above the roar of the wind and engine.
“We disabled it. He only had one good RPG.”
Grey coaxed more and more speed and altitude from the overloaded plane, now a half-mile from the dock, airborne and climbing. I looked through the tiny rear window of the plane toward the house.
A fireball appeared where the pilot and Anthony had been standing. I turned away. Seconds later I heard the blast over the engine noise. When I looked back, flames had reached the second floor of the Plantation house, leaving no trace of Anthony or the pilot. Whatever Grey and Rebecca did to disable the RPG, it worked better than expected.
Placido wept on Rebecca’s shoulder. Melissa reached forward and stroked his face again.
“You didn’t do this. Anthony tried to kill you, and he tried to kill all of us. Whatever happened back there was his own doing.”
The plane continued to gain altitude, and I could see the northern Cay in the blue distance. We cruised for the next ten minutes without speaking.
Grey put the plane down five hundred yards from the entrance to the harbor and taxied into Louis Town, pulling right up to the marina, where curious locals watched six people unfold from a four passenger floatplane with two bullet holes in the tail and walk into the nearest bar.
“Gree!”
Agent Grey and I both turned to Katie’s greeting.
“I tole you I make you forget dat gull! You see now.”
I grabbed Melissa and surprised her with a kiss.
“I don’t think that will be necessary.”
Twenty
Katie had discreetly slipped away, but her eyes were still inviting as she left. The rest of the group disappeared in the darkness of the bar, leaving Melissa and me to ourselves, just inside the dimly lit entrance. I looked even scruffier than before, with a patch of Brown’s bright-red blood on my shirt, wrists ripped raw from cable ties only removed minutes ago.
Behind Melissa, colored Christmas lights looped around a bar, and a tinny version of “Don’t Worry Be Happy” spun from the outdoor speakers. I looked down at the blood stains on my shirt and brushed Melissa’s damaged cheek.
“I don’t think we’re going to be mistaken for a glamorous young couple sneaking off to the islands for a romantic rendezvous.”
Melissa’s eyes were focused somewhere in the distance, the dim light forgiving of the insults to her face, which was still puffy from Anthony’s slaps, eyes red-rimmed, lips thin and taut, the pain of the ordeal she’d survived reflected darkly on her face. I hoped for some acknowledgment, but it wasn’t there.
The improbability of our survival was only now beginning to sink in on me. We had escaped being killed multiple times—and that had just been since sunrise. On the Milano island alone we’d been involved in three violent deaths. For Melissa’s part, she’d seen what she believed to be her father and brother blown to pieces only to be miraculously spared, then her uncle vaporized in a fireball he’d meant for her. This is not to mention the several threats to her own life by Anthony and Brown the day and night before. No wonder Melissa wasn’t in a mood to laugh at my lame attempt at humor. My words rattled and clanged in the silence. Melissa took a deep breath before turning to me.
“Look, Paul, we both said and did a lot back there not knowing how things were going to turn out. I can’t hold you to that. Neither of us wants a relationship based on a feeling of obligation rather than one of mutual affection.”
“So, I’ve done my job, and I can go back to where I came from, is that it?”
“I didn’t mean it to come out that way. I know what you’ve done for me, what you’ve risked for me; but, you must understand, I don’t even know what I feel right now. I need time to figure things out.”
“Melissa, we’ve hardly been around each other more than a few days, and most of those were in circumstances I hope we’ll never see again. I’m not trying to put any pressure on you. So, why don’t we take things slow and see where they go?”
She made a single hard shake of her head as if to banish some unwanted vision which had crept back in.
“I know I should be showing more appreciation. If you hadn’t risked everything to save me, by now Anthony would’ve cut off my thumb and thrown the rest of me to the sharks, then lured Placido and Hector to die on South Cat Cay. I don’t know how I can possibly . . .”
Tears welled in her eyes, her voice caught, trailed off. I tried to lighten things again; this wasn’t about me trying to claim credit.
“Grey, Rebecca, and Ariel deserve a little thanks. Without them I would’ve been joining you as fish food. And I had other plans for this week.”
Not even a faint smile.
“But without you setting everything in motion, nothing good would have happened, and all of us would be—”
“Well, even though we escaped being killed by your uncle and his side-kick, we aren’t out of the woods by a long shot. I’m wanted back in Georgia for three murders, and I have a feeling all of us might be called upon to explain two large explosions and a serious house fire on South Cat Cay. So it isn’t a bad idea if you want to stay clear of me for a while, at least until I’m no longer a fugitive.”
Melissa grabbed my hand. With the back of her other hand she wiped her eyes and smiled the smile that disarmed me the night we met. But her voice held a forced buoyancy.
“Now what kind of woman would do such a thing? And besides, if I stayed clear of you, I might miss out on the rest of the excitement.”
Melissa kissed me on my stubbly cheek. She was all I wanted. So why did that feeling return, the feeling that I had when Melissa’s smile temporarily blinded me to the brazen collaboration between Cabrini and Anthony at the Abbey bar? Why did I get the feeling that I still didn’t know who was on the right side—or even what the right side was? Maybe I was finally feeling the stress of the ordeal. We both needed to take things slow, but each of us for entirely different reasons.
We found the remainder of our party at an isolated table n
ear the back of the bar, a corner with windows overlooking the marina. Through the windows we could see the tranquility of the harbor at mid-day: all the cigarette boats gone, none having come back to refuel; all the fishing boats out, the crews not yet returned with their catch; and the dockworkers inside avoiding the noonday sun. It was this peace that was disrupted by our raucous arrival in the floatplane, just as the quiet now jangled in my mind against the echoes of what we’d just been through.
Grey and Rebecca knocked back a couple of the local beers before I had finished one, but I was now well into my second, catching up, and thinking about my next one. Melissa and Cabrini both poured glasses of white wine from a chilled bottle which, by the look of the waiter, hadn’t been ordered at that bar for a long time. Placido called for a double dry martini, alternating sips and getting updates from Ariel on his cell phone. It was tempting to lay back and breathe easy for a few minutes. Grey wouldn’t have it.
“This has been one hell of a fishing trip. There are two islands with three dead bodies on each. It’s very likely Paul’s being sought for questioning concerning the Frederica Island murders, and all of us will soon be wanted concerning the deaths on South Cat Cay. We need to be proactive or we’ll all be spending time in jail, and I hear the Bimini facilities are not exactly the accommodations y’all are used to stayin’ at.”
Everyone else at the table other than Grey appeared willing to let things ride for a few minutes, at least until the alcohol could smooth the edges of our adrenaline-spiked minds. Then Placido wearily took up Grey’s line.
“I agree, Agent Grey, but I’m inexperienced in these matters. While I have some information I think can help Paul, beyond that I have little idea what to do. I’d like to hear—”
“Well, Placido, I think you need to report what’s happened on South Cat Cay to the local authorities, just as it happened, as soon as possible. We’ll all need to give statements at some point. But we have a problem with that. When we give our statements, the authorities will invite us to stay until the investigation is concluded, which means if we’re caught trying to leave, we’ll be arrested and put in jail without bond as flight risks. As soon as they figure out who Paul is, he’ll be arrested, at least as a material witness in the Frederica Island deaths.”
