Adele wondered if it was scientifically possible for a woman’s head to literally explode because Marianne Rocha’s appeared close to doing just that. The newswoman’s chest heaved as she leaned toward Yuri.
“If you didn’t watch my report how did you know it was on the television?”
Yuri’s smile was dark chocolate laced with arsenic—sweet and deadly. “I did not see your report, but I heard about it. You know of me and I know of you, Ms. Rocha. I know where you work. I know where you live. And yes, I have associates in Seattle who know the same. I would be much more careful about who you discuss on your program if I were you.”
“Is that a threat, Mr. Popov?” Marianne tried to sound tough, but Adele heard the fear in her voice.
Yuri waved his hand dismissively. “There is no need for accusations. We are all friends today. As for tomorrow? We shall see.”
“We’re not friends you fat, sweating pile of garbage.”
Yuri glared at Tilda. “What did you say to me?”
Unlike Marianne, there was no fear in Tilda’s reply. “You heard me.”
“Put the gun away, Yuri,” Roland said. “A vehicle is coming. It’s likely Sheriff Pine.”
Yuri put the gun into his pocket. “See? I listen. I did not come here for trouble, Mr. Soros. I came to warn you.” He looked Adele up and down. “I came to warn all of you.”
Roland was right. It was Lucas who exited the San Juan County SUV that had parked directly behind Tilda’s hotel. When he saw Yuri, he froze for a second and then drew his weapon.
“Don’t move, Mr. Popov, and keep your hands where I can see them.”
“I would take your own advice as well, Mr. Sheriff.”
When Lucas saw the red dot on his chest, he slowly lifted his head, locked eyes with Yuri, and then responded with surprising calm. “Everyone please step away from Mr. Popov.”
Even Tilda moved quickly and silently to comply. It was the cold business side of Lucas Pine few on the islands knew existed. Adele had witnessed the sheriff’s protective power and determination first-hand in Rosario last summer. It had saved her life.
“Sheriff Pine,” Yuri growled. “Is this really necessary? I am an old man. My arms grow tired.”
“He has a gun in his pocket,” Adele said.
Yuri’s head withdrew further down in between his broad shoulders, giving him the appearance of a badly perspiring turtle. “It is just a toy, Sheriff. I know better than to bring a weapon here.”
“Don’t move. Not an inch.” Lucas stepped forward, reached into Yuri’s pocket, and took out the gun. “It doesn’t feel like a toy.”
Yuri grinned. “There are no bullets. It’s empty—like a toy.”
Lucas kicked the gun away and then scanned the marina. “Is that a real shooter out there targeting my chest or just another toy as well?”
“Shooter? I have come alone. My passport is valid. I am here legally and am breaking no laws.”
Tilda shook her head. “That’s a lie. He told us he came in peace but that he didn’t come alone.”
“Mr. Popov,” Lucas said, “you get on your phone and tell whoever you have out there that if I see another laser mark on anyone here, I’m arresting you on the spot. Then I’m calling the FBI. Do it. Now.”
Yuri made the call, spoke a few sentences in Russian, and then put his phone away. “There. It is done. Now can we talk?”
“I have nothing to say to you, Mr. Popov. I do intend to make sure you turn around and get the hell out of here. Either that or I’m cuffing you and taking you in. It’s one or the other.”
“Sheriff, please, just a moment of your time. Travel is not an easy thing for a man in my condition and yet I came all this way to warn you in person of what is coming.”
Lucas’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean? What’s coming?”
“Evil, Sheriff—uncontrollable, twisted, hateful evil. At this very moment Liya Vasa creeps toward these islands like some terrible, insatiable beast, demanding that her brother Visili’s death be avenged. She will not rest until everything that you cherish most, everything that you love or would ever love, is taken from each of you and destroyed forever.”
8.
A fter Yuri left, following the closed-door meeting inside Tilda’s hotel, Roland was the first to pose a question. “What do you think?” he asked the others.
Tilda held a glass of wine between her elegant, long-fingered hands. “I think it’s insanity to believe anything that comes out of that man’s mouth. He’ll remain a criminal until his last breath, which I sincerely hope comes sooner rather than later.”
“He’s right about the threat from Liya,” Lucas replied. “International authorities believe she’s on the move.”
Tilda set her glass down. “But how do we know if she truly intends to come here as Mr. Popov would have us believe?”
Lucas shrugged. “We don’t. At least not yet.”
“We might not know until it’s too late,” Adele added. “Not until she’s staring us in the face.”
Roland adjusted the gold Rolex on his wrist. “Why would Popov lie? I’m not saying he isn’t, but what would be his motivation? I know him well enough to know he rarely does anything without an angle—namely one that benefits him.”
Tilda nodded. “Exactly. He came here to manipulate us. I’m certain of it.”
“Okay,” Roland said, “but why?”
Everyone looked at Lucas. He shifted in his chair and shrugged again. “Believe me, I already have my ear to the ground. My law enforcement contacts in Vancouver know to update me if anything new develops on the Liya Vasa front. Beyond that it’s up to us to remain vigilant, but I’d also suggest we go on living our lives. Tilda could be right. Perhaps Mr. Popov came here just to scare us.”
“Or distract us,” Adele said. “There’s the motivation you’re looking for, Roland. Popov has us looking around every corner for Liya while he’s doing something to line his own pockets. Possibly drugs, stolen goods, human trafficking, it could be anything. When it comes to crime, I’ve learned first-hand the Russian mafia is pretty much an anything goes operation.”
Roland didn’t appear entirely convinced. “Sure, that could be what he’s up to.”
“Or not,” Lucas countered. “It could also be exactly what he says it is—an attempt to warn us about Liya. Yuri Popov is a dangerous criminal but Liya Vasa? She’s psychotic. If she does show up here there’ll be no reasoning with her. I know my saying that makes me sound like I’m the one scaring you, but that’s not it. Just be careful but live your lives. My deputies have already been alerted to the potential threat as well as every other government agency in the area. We’re going to be fine.”
They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Fin called out from the other side. “Mind if I come in?” Tilda went to the door and unlocked it. Fin stepped inside, looked around, and then whistled.
“Some serious business this, yeah? Hopefully it’s been sorted. That Russian fella, he’s really in the mob?”
“He is,” Tilda said as she returned to her seat at the table. Fin remained standing. “There gonna be trouble?”
When no one else replied, Adele broke the silence, sensing Fin’s desire to be part of the group. “There could be. We’re here for each other though. We always are.”
Fin smiled. “Ah, it must be nice to live with people you can count on.”
Tilda motioned for Fin to join them. “It is. Pull up a chair, Mr. Kearns. Can I offer you a drink?”
“You have tea?”
“That I do,” Tilda said with a nod as she got up and then returned with a cup.
Fin took a sip. “Mm,” he said. “That’ll do. Thank you. So, is this a meeting of the Roche Harbor Round Table?”
Adele noticed both Roland and Lucas staring at Fin. Roland cleared his throat. “Mr. Kearns, what part of Ireland did you say you’re from?”
“The Irish part,” Fin answered with a lopsided grin.
Roland arched a b
row. “That answer makes you sound like a man trying to hide something. I’m sorry if I’m a little behind the others, but I’d like to know what you’re doing here.”
Adele leaned forward in her chair. “He’s Delroy’s son.”
“Delroy Hicks?”
“That’s right.”
“Delroy didn’t have any children.”
Fin chuckled and spread his arms out. “And yet here I am.”
“It’s true,” Adele said. “Delroy didn’t know. Only Fin’s mother did.”
Roland frowned. “Okay, but that still doesn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”
When Fin started to answer Adele cut him off. “I got this.” She turned and faced Roland. “After he learned about Delroy he looked up the islands, read my articles, and decided to come here and see them for himself. If I was him, I probably would have done the same thing.”
“I thought Delroy was gay.”
“Really, Roland? This day and age and you’re stuck on that?”
“It’s not a matter of being stuck so much as it is a matter of biology. Right?”
Tilda shook her head. “Don’t look at me. You’re on your own with that one.”
“Ah,” Roland said. “You’re just upset my new home will allow me to look down on you.”
Tilda sipped her wine. “You’ll never look down on me, Mr. Soros.”
Roland smiled. “Nor would I ever dare to, Ms. Ashland.”
“This is brilliant,” Fin declared. “The banter, the back and forth, the good-natured tension, all of us here now inside this wonderful hotel, surrounded by the beautiful waters outside. Do you realize how truly blessed you are to live in such a place?”
Tilda raised her glass high. “To the islands.”
“And to a new friend who also happens to be the son of a dearly departed one,” Adele added.
The toast was made. The room went quiet. Then Lucas turned to the side, doubled over, and coughed. “Sorry about that,” he wheezed. His hands were trembling.
“Hey, you don’t look so good,” Roland said. Adele detected the worry in his voice. He was genuinely concerned for his childhood friend.
Lucas used a napkin to wipe his brow and then grimaced. “I’ll be fine. Just tired is all. Give me a few minutes to sit here and drink my water and I’ll be good to go.”
Roland touched Lucas on the shoulder. “You sure?”
Lucas pushed the hand away. “Yeah, I’m fine. Really.” He looked at Fin. “So, Mr. Kearns, what’s on your agenda? Do you intend to stay on the islands for a while?”
“I do,” Fin answered. “If everyone here will have me. I was hoping Adele could help me check out something over on Orcas Island.”
Lucas set down his just-finished glass of water. “Yeah? What do you want to see over there?”
“It’s a phenomenon I read about—a magnetic field that’s said to have healing powers, give people long life, that sort of thing. It’s likely rumor, perhaps based on old Native American legend, but it intrigues me and since I’m here I’m hoping to have a look around for myself.”
“I heard about that,” Tilda said. “Healers come from all over the world to study the crystals on the island. I had always assumed it was nothing more than some new-age tourist marketing campaign or whatnot, but you actually think there’s something to it?”
Fin shrugged. “I’m open to the possibility, yes. Ireland is itself an island, a very old one, steeped in mythology. I believe my natural curiosity about such things is deeply imbedded in my people’s DNA. We have long had a fascination with the unexplainable and those things that go bump in the night.” He turned to Adele. “What do you think? Are you and that gem of a Chris Craft available to take me to Orcas for a day or two?”
Adele hadn’t been back to Orcas since Liya Vasa’s brother Visili had tried to rape and kill her there. Visili was dead. She was very much alive. It was time to move on from that horrific encounter. “Absolutely,” she replied, smiling. “I’ll be finishing up the next edition of the paper all day tomorrow but should be free the day after. We can leave first thing in the morning. I’ll do some research beforehand to help us decide where on the island we should go first.”
Fin tipped his cap. “Brilliant. Thank you.”
Lucas stood then teetered to one side. He braced himself on the chair as Roland got up and grabbed hold of him. “Easy, Sheriff. It appears your mind is writing a check your legs can’t cash.”
“I said I’m fine,” Lucas grumbled. “Get your hands off me.” He took two long strides toward the door, grabbed hold of the knob, and then stood there silent and unmoving until he let out a low groan while glancing behind him at the others. “No doctors,” he gasped. “I mean it. Don’t piss me off with that nonsense. I just need to rest.”
Those were the last words Lucas spoke before his eyes rolled up into the back of his skull and he crashed onto the floor.
9.
“S heriff, you’re not going anywhere. The room is yours for the night. Rest up.”
Lucas didn’t appear pleased by Tilda’s demand that he stay in bed, but he didn’t refuse the offer. Adele put a damp cloth over his forehead and squeezed his hand. “You gave us quite a scare. You’re running a high fever—104.”
“Rectal or oral?” Lucas asked.
Adele scowled. “What?”
Roland, who was standing near the door, tilted his head back and laughed. “Nice to see you can joke about doing a face-plant, Sheriff. And let me tell you, dragging you into that bed was no easy thing, you big lard.”
Lucas raised his hand high, looked at Roland, and extended his middle finger.
Roland, smiling ear-to-ear, held up both hands and repeated the gesture. “Right back at you, Sheriff Face-Plant.”
“Okay, that’s more than enough macho nonsense for one day,” Tilda said. “Everyone out. He needs sleep.” She looked back at Lucas. “I’ll check in on you in a couple hours. Are you sure you don’t want to see a doctor?”
Lucas closed his eyes and shook his head. “Not necessary. I’m feeling better already. I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”
“There’s no rush, Sheriff. You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need.” Tilda turned out the light and shut the door while Adele and Roland waited for her in the hallway. Fin had already excused himself and gone to bed for the night.
“Should we see about bringing someone here to have a look at him?” Roland asked.
“No,” Tilda replied. “He does seem better. I’d guess he’s been fighting the flu. Was probably badly dehydrated. Lucas is a strong man. He’s also a proud one. Having a doctor come here when he asked us not to would likely do more harm than good at this point. Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on him. Are you two still going to Friday Harbor?”
Adele nodded. “Yeah, we need to speak with Marianne Rocha before she catches the late-night ferry back to the mainland.”
“I don’t care for that woman,” Tilda said. “She’s trouble. The sooner she’s gone the better.”
Roland was already heading downstairs. Adele moved to catch up to him. “Call me if anything changes with Lucas.”
“I will,” Tilda answered. “Be careful.”
***
The first half of the trip to Friday Harbor was a quiet one. Adele drove the Mini while Roland sat in the passenger seat with his head resting against the window. She looked over at him. He smiled at her.
“Something funny?”
“No,” Roland said. “I was just thinking how so much is different since you came to the islands. It’s been quite a ride. A lot of changes.”
“Any regrets?”
“Not really.”
“That doesn’t sound like a very sure answer.”
Roland sat up and rolled his head from side to side. “I’m not complaining.”
“Do you know what you’re going to say to Marianne?”
“Nope.”
“Really? Do you think we can trust her not to do a s
tory on Yuri?”
“I don’t know her well enough to vouch for anything she may or may not do.”
Adele downshifted as she neared a curve in the road. “Did you two sleep together?”
Roland reached down and turned the radio on. Tom Petty was singing about free fallin’. “I love this song.”
“Uh-huh,” Adele said with a smirk. She turned the volume down. “Smooth change of subject. I’ll take that to mean yes.”
“Take it however you want. That’s your prerogative.”
The Mini’s front tires chirped as Adele took another corner nearly twenty miles over the posted speed limit. “Marianne could become a problem for us, Roland. Yuri won’t like seeing his face plastered all over the local news channels.”
“Since when are our actions dictated by what Yuri Popov wants?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe since you started doing business with him a few years ago, which led to all the mess that followed, including having to deal with Liya Vasa.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair. You weren’t there, remember?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Adele braked, turned hard into the bend, and then accelerated. “That time at Rosario when Visili Vasa nearly killed Lucas and me. You weren’t there in the room. You don’t know what it was like—how horrible it was.”
Roland stared straight ahead. Adele turned her head to look at him. “What? Now you have nothing to say?”
“Just keep your eyes on the road. And you might want to slow down.”
“Don’t tell me how to drive.”
“Fine. I’ll just sit here and shut up.”
“Don’t act like this is my fault, Roland. Don’t you get it? Don’t you care? I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of Liya Vasa and what she’s capable of. Doesn’t it bother you that she might be coming back? Or are you too busy thinking about all the money you’re going to make when you sell the bank? Maybe people are right about you. I’ve defended you more times than I can remember, but I guess I need to consider the possibility I was wrong. That when it comes down to it, all Roland Soros really cares about is money—and himself.”
Roche Harbor Rogue Page 6
