In desperation, she shoved the muzzle of the flare gun against his face and pulled the trigger. For a second, nothing happened. Then there was a queer whistling sound followed by a small explosion and a burst of light.
In that moment, Chazz’s face was illuminated, and she saw a deep, bloody gash next to his nose, where he’d taken the impact of the flare. The rest of his face was covered with a thick coat of grayish powder that ignited into tiny flames. They quickly spread and, with a sudden swoosh, the entire surface of his face was alight. As the skin blackened, he began to beat at it, emitting a horrible keening sound.
He couldn’t have been standing there for more than ten or fifteen seconds before he staggered backward and slipped, disappearing down the slope as if he’d been sucked away by a powerful force. Only then did the smell of burning flesh register in Nicole’s brain. She turned and ran, her stomach heaving with disgust and horror.
By the time she reached the entrance to the boathouse, she was sweating and gasping for breath. She had no idea what had happened to the dog but suspected he was still out there in the bushes, nosing around for more chocolate.
She took a deep breath, fighting back a wave of nausea and reached for the doorknob; at that moment, someone grabbed her and shoved her against the wall. A cold piece of metal was pressed to her temple. “Don’t make a sound,” a voice hissed, “or I’ll kill you.”
Thirty
Nicole was forced into the boathouse at the point of a gun. “Lie down on the floor,” the stranger said, “and see that you’re quick about it.
Only now did Nicole recognize the voice. It sounded different without the Irish accent, more British than American. Under the circumstances, she decided not to let on that she knew it was Muriel, at least not yet. “Alice,” she said. “It’s me, Nicole.”
After the slightest hesitation, the hand on the back of Nicole’s neck relaxed and the gun was withdrawn. A moment later, she was blinded by the beam of a high-powered flashlight.
“Nicole! It is you,” Muriel said. The Irish accent was back, her tone softer. “But you’re so pale, and what’s that blood on your face? Are you hurt?”
Nicole reached up to touch a tender spot on her cheek. “I’m all right. It’s just a scratch.”
“We’ll see about that.” Muriel guided her to a corner of the boathouse where a tap and drain provided a crude wash-up area. Here, Muriel turned on the faucet. “Splash the water on your face, and you’ll feel better,” she said. “That’s the way. Put your face under the tap.”
The water was cold and bracing. After Nicole washed, she opened her mouth and took a long drink. She had nothing to dry her hands and face — her sweats were filthy — so she shook off as much water as she could and, still dripping, turned back to Muriel.
“It is just a scratch,” the woman said after checking Nicole’s face again. “That’s all right, then.”
In the reflected glow of the flashlight, Nicole noticed Muriel’s clothes. She was dressed all in black from her pants, sneakers, and pullover to the knit cap covering her hair.
“Alice,” Nicole said slowly. “That was you I saw climbing off the yacht, wasn’t it? What were you doing there?”
“The less you know about it, the better,” Muriel said. “I will say this: I heard Hayes was receiving another shipment of drugs, and I wanted to make sure it was his last.”
“Are you trying to tell me you’re with the police?”
“Don’t be daft,” Muriel said. “I’ve already explained. I have a score to settle with these people.”
“Your brother,” Nicole repeated. It was hard to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
“I told you all about that, Nicole. Remember?” Muriel said. “Now, listen. We’re in serious danger here. I have a boat waiting to take us away.”
“I can’t go,” Nicole said. “I promised I’d wait.”
“Not in here, Nicole. It’s too dangerous.”
“Right,” Nicole agreed. “In the stable on top of the hill.”
“That’s up to you then,” Muriel said, starting toward the edge of the platform. “But I’m warning you: Get a move on. The whole thing is about to go up.”
“Neither of us is going anywhere until you explain a few things,” Nicole said.
“Suit yourself.” Already Muriel was starting down the ladder that would take her to the boat.
“The key to the boat isn’t where you left it,” Nicole called out, “and I won’t tell you where it is until you answer my questions. I know who you are, Muriel.”
Muriel stopped and turned, pointing the flashlight at Nicole. “Give me the key, Nicole,” she said, abandoning the Irish accent. “We both have to get out of here before all hell breaks loose.”
Nicole held up a hand to shade her eyes from the light. “Just answer one question,” she said. “Why did you tell me all those lies?
“Oh, all right,” Muriel hissed. “If I tell you that much, will you give me the key?”
Nicole murmured her assent, and Muriel began, her words tumbling out in a rush: “I couldn’t let you know who I was. You were supposed to think Freddy and me were on our way to Los Angeles. But the plan was for me to wait at the house in Chiswick until I heard from him. Then I’d ship the money and join him in Ecuador. While I was waiting, I had to stay out of sight so the neighbors wouldn’t see me. So I dyed my hair and made some changes to my appearance. When you arrived, I was still waiting for Freddy to contact me. I was beginning to think he’d left me in the lurch, and I was pretty angry and upset. To get my mind off my worries, I thought I’d make myself busy, showing you around, and making sure you enjoyed London.”
“Making sure I enjoyed London!” Nicole said. “From that first day, you were using us. We were decoys to make your house look occupied.” She continued, “I guess I understand why you said you were Alice, but what about the rest of it, all that stuff you told me about your dead brother and getting revenge on Lowry?”
“Nicole, please! I’m truly sorry you got swept up in this,” Muriel said. “And I will tell you everything. But right now we haven’t time; we’ve got to get out of here! I can’t use the motor because the noise will give me away. I’m going to row to the other side of the island. Why don’t you give me a hand? While we’re rowing, we’ll talk. Then I’ll let you off at a spot on the other side. It’s an easy climb up to the stable.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Nicole got up and followed Muriel to the edge of the platform. The doors leading to the loch were open, revealing the quiet water beyond. Muriel descended the ladder first. Then she waited, shining the flashlight on the rungs so Nicole could see the way.
The boat, which was made of inflatable plastic, didn’t have much heft. It bucked and swayed as they climbed aboard. When they were finally seated side by side, Muriel said, “Let’s have the key, Nicole. We’ll start out rowing, but I want to be sure I’ll be able to start the engine.” Nicole quickly located the key in her knapsack and handed it over. Muriel slipped the key into the ignition and turned it until it started, then turned the engine off again.
The oars were fastened lengthwise, along the inflatable tubes that made up the boat’s exterior. Muriel released the oar on her side and let the paddle end drop into the water. Nicole did the same with hers.
“All right, now,” Muriel said. “It’ll take a minute to coordinate our movements.”
Nicole had never rowed before. She was surprised at what hard work it was, despite the boat’s light weight. At first, they only managed to make the boat turn in circles. Before long, however, they got the hang of it. The craft began moving in the right direction. They slipped silently out of the boathouse before making a ninety-degree turn to parallel the shore. They were heading toward the southern tip of the island.
“Remember, Nicole,” Muriel whispered as the boat slid silently along. “We have to keep our voices low. You have no idea how easily sound carries on water. Now, what do you want to know?”
“When you
took Alice’s identity, did you already know she was dead?”
“I had a suspicion,” Muriel said in a low voice. “Alice and I were friends, good friends. She had a deal with Freddy, providing couriers for him. She had connections with people, mostly unemployed young men in the neighborhoods where she did her nursing. Every cent went to some wildlife group. Alice seemed to think it was her job to save the planet. When she figured out Freddy’s plan to disappear, she realized it meant an end to the arrangement, and she was furious. She called Hayes and proposed a deal between them; he must have decided she was a threat because he had her killed. That call of hers also blew the whistle on Freddy.”
Already, Nicole was winded from the exertion of rowing. In contrast, Alice didn’t seem to feel it at all. She wielded the oar easily, while Nicole had to use both hands and every ounce of strength into pulling hers through the water. Raw spots were developing on her palms. But the effort seemed to be paying off. The boat was picking up speed. Before long, they’d almost reached the southern tip of the island.
For a few minutes, they were both quiet, concentrating on keeping the boat off the rocks while they maneuvered around the point. When the turn was complete, Nicole said, “What about getting revenge for your brother’s murder?” she said. “Was there any truth to that?”
“Sorry about that.” Muriel said, “I guess I got carried away. After the first few days, when I still didn’t hear from Freddy, I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t risk running into anyone who might know me, and I had the feeling you’d noticed the way I was sneaking around. I needed to come up with some kind of explanation.
“I borrowed the story about the dead brother from something I saw on TV,” she went on. “You have to understand—I was crazy with worry by that time. Then, a few days ago, Hayes had me dragged up to this God-forsaken island. He said he’d have me killed the way he’d done Freddy. Hayes told me they caught him on his way to the airport.”
Nicole thought about the grave above the tropical garden but decided it would be best not to mention it.
“Wait, stop!” Muriel said.
They both stopped rowing. In the silence, Nicole inspected her palms with her fingertips. The skin was raw, and she could feel blisters rising. Meanwhile Muriel was feeling around in her pockets. Only when she blew her nose, snuffling a bit, did Nicole realize her friend was crying.
“You probably think Freddy was a bad man,” Muriel said as they started rowing again. “But he wasn’t. He just got caught in a bad situation. In the old days, when Freddy started out, even Hayes wasn’t that bad. He dealt only in marijuana, a bit of hashish. I begged Freddy to get out of the life, but you could make good money selling weed in those days. Then high-grade heroin, crack, and designer drugs came on the market, and Hayes decided he’d have to branch out or go out of business.
“At that point, Freddy did try to quit, but Hayes threatened to have him killed. Then, a few months ago, the police closed in on Freddy. He didn’t know what to do. If he ratted on Hayes, Hayes’ people would kill him. If he didn’t, the cops would put him away for years, and Hayes would probably make sure he never got out alive. So Freddy pretended to cooperate with the police to buy some time so he could plan our escape. Just as we were getting ready to leave, Hayes got stuck with a shipment of cocaine. There had been a big police crackdown, and his regular contacts couldn’t get rid of it. So he gave Freddy a load on consignment. Freddy decided to take the profits and run. He saw it as his retirement fund, a chance to start over.”
“Earlier,” Nicole said, “you were Hayes’ prisoner at the house. When was that?”
“Four days ago.”
“That was just before they brought me here,” Nicole said. “How did you escape?”
“I paid someone off.”
“Paid someone off?” Nicole repeated. “With what?”
“Let’s say I had a little windfall.”
“The money I shipped to the house,” Nicole said, “You took it, didn’t you? Muriel, that money is important evidence against Hayes; you have to turn it in to the police.”
“I’m sorry, Nicole,” Muriel said. “The police have plenty of evidence. Besides, Hayes will never serve a day in jail, and I have a right to that money. Hayes was telling the truth when he said he killed Freddy, or I would have heard from him by now. My only regret is that I had to hand a good bit of money over to that no-good Ben.”
“Ben is dead, Muriel.”
Muriel continued as if she hadn’t heard. “Do you know what’s happening back there? The police are about to arrive, and Hayes and his men are hiding aboard that ship, ready to make their escape. They’ll lose the drugs they already unloaded, but there’s still plenty onboard. All kinds of drugs, you understand, not just the weed Hayes is always going on about. Once his boat is on the open sea, he’s a free man. After everything he did, all the people he had killed — Freddy, Alice, Mr. McGiever.
“Poor Mr. McGiever,” Muriel continued, “he was the dearest man. We were in the Chiswick Thespians together; he was quite an actor. You’d be surprised.”
“The Chiswick Thespians,” Nicole repeated. “That explains a lot — your Irish accent, your flair for the dramatic.”
“I trained as an actress,” Muriel said. “I’ll bet you didn’t know that. I never had much talent, though. The instructors were always telling me I was over-the-top. But I did have a knack for dialect …” Her voice trailed off.
“One more thing,” Nicole said. “Why are you so sure Hayes is going to escape? The police will be here any minute now; he’ll be in jail by morning.”
“Well, where are they?” Muriel said. “Do you really believe they’ll pull it off?” Then she added, almost to herself, “Never, never.”
They rowed silently for a few more minutes. Then Muriel said, “Over to our left. See those flat rocks jutting out just above the water? That’s where I’ll let you off.”
After they made their way close to the shore, they turned the boat to bring it parallel to the rocks. Muriel jumped out first and pulled the boat alongside the rocky formation.
It wasn’t until this moment, when she was no longer rowing, that Nicole realized how sore her arms were. She rubbed them a bit, then stood up and began to get out of the boat while Muriel held it. The rocks were slick, and as Nicole climbed up, Muriel reached up to steady her.
As soon as Nicole was safely on shore, Muriel looked up at her. “I’m sorry, Nicole,” she said. “Sorry I got you involved in this terrible mess. When we set up the house exchange, you were just a stranger who was going to stand in for us for a few days—no harm done. I had no idea you’d end up in such danger, or that I’d grow so fond of you …”
She went silent, then added, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I thought you’d want to know. The police took your husband away day before yesterday. I saw them from Mr. McGiever’s house.”
Somehow, this didn’t come as a surprise. Nicole drew in a deep breath. “I’m sorry to hear it,” she said, “but I’ve left him.”
“I’d figured as much,” Muriel said. “You two were married for a good while, weren’t you? You share a past. No matter how angry you are or how much you think you hate him, you wouldn’t wish this kind of trouble on him.”
“I guess you’re right,” Nicole said. “But it’s out of my hands; I can’t save him from himself.”
“Amen,” Muriel said. “No one knows that better than I do. Well, take care of yourself, Nicole. Just head straight up the hill to the stable. No more wandering around. I want you to promise.”
“I promise,” Nicole said. “You take care, too. By the way, what happens when you start the engine? Aren’t you afraid they’ll hear it?”
“It isn’t a half mile to the mainland,” Muriel said, “and I have a car waiting. By the time they get their forces mobilized, I’ll be gone. Are you sure I can’t persuade you to come along? I’ll drop you anywhere you want. Glasgow? Chiswick? Heathrow? We could take the Chunnel to Paris. Hav
e you ever been to Paris?”
“I can’t,” Nicole said, “I gave my word.”
“Goodbye then.” Muriel turned the key to start the motor and, with a wave, began moving the boat away from the rocks. Then she made a tight U-turn, reversing direction. Only then did Nicole remember seeing Muriel’s black-clad figure climbing down from the yacht. “Wait!” she called out, “You never told me! What you were doing on Hayes’ yacht?”
Her question went unanswered. The boat was already speeding away.
Nicole began the climb uphill. When she reached the crest, and the other side of the island came into view, she stopped to take in the quiet scene below. The yacht was still there, docked at the pier. Everything was quiet and dark, just as before.
Just then, she heard the yacht’s engine start up, and she realized what Muriel had been doing on that ship; she wasn’t talking about the raid when she said all hell was going to break loose.
Nicole hesitated only a few seconds before dashing the short distance to the stable. She reached it just as the explosion struck. As a deafening roar shook the earth, she rolled herself into a ball. She sensed, rather than saw, the white-hot blast. Next came several lesser explosions and a loud swoosh!. Ringing filled her head, eliciting a sense of déjà vu that turned her insides to jelly. Hot wind rushed in, lifting the hay from the floor, whipping it around the stall, and hurling it down on her.
When the fury subsided, Nicole got up; finding herself uninjured, she went to the doorway. The smoke made her eyes water, turning the scene into an impressionistic painting of flames dancing on water, the night sky lit up, the air billowing with smoke. For a while she stood leaning against the doorway, staring, her mind empty of thought. Then, still in a state of shock, she remembered Reinhardt. He was out there somewhere. Heart pounding, she began to hurry down the hill.
The Swap Page 30
