Okay, first they get to safety and then he’ll worry about what comes next. But spare him Evelina with her bleeding heart liberalism. “What can she do?”
“I’m not sure. Ray mentioned some kind of investigation, maybe a Congressional inquiry. She says the only way to stop the abuse is to make it public.” Abuse. The word makes Henry wince. But he can’t argue with it, not after that tape of Tobias with the math professor. And it’s not the first time Tobias has been out of line with detainees. Henry has tried to convince himself that the guy is just overenthusiastic, a little heavy-handed, but he has known for a long time that isn’t the whole story.
He looks at his hands, barely visible in the dark. These hands didn’t personally turn down the AC and almost freeze the woman to death. They didn’t cut her face and slice her clothing from her body. They certainly didn’t push themselves down Austin’s pants and grope her breasts. But those things happened on his watch and that makes it his fault.
“I’ve been thinking,” Cat says slowly. “Whatever Evelina sets up, you can testify, make things right. You know, talk about what’s going on, what Tobias did.”
Testify? That would be a betrayal of the Bureau, after all his years of loyalty. “How can I do that?” he whispers.
The Cohen woman’s image materializes in the darkness of the thicket. She yells: I’ll tell you how. Remember me? Naked, with my underwear sliced off by a knife-wielding federal agent. Your people almost killed me, Henry. Then Norah’s image, diminutive but fierce, adds her accusation: Don’t forget me. How your “guys” taunted and terrified and humiliated me. Is that the way your beloved Bureau operates? Is that what you’re loyal to?
And the Bureau is probably sending armed agents after him at this very moment. Henry shakes his head hard, trying to dislodge the thought, the women, to expel his guilt. He’ll think about this later, once they are safe. He peers out of the thicket and listens intently. “Okay. It’s quiet now. Let’s get going. Bert will be waiting for us.”
She doesn’t move for a moment. “One question. Will you testify against Tobias? And when did you decide, by the way, to do the right thing?”
“That’s two questions.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t really decide. It just happened.”
“That’s bull, dear.”
“Okay, you want an answer? I decided the night I woke you up wearing a dress.” He steps out of the thicket. “Now come on. Let’s go.”
She still doesn’t move.
“I’ll think about testifying.” And he will, for Cat and Melissa. But later, because now they have to keep moving. Tobias is somewhere out there.
54. TOBIAS, 10:15 P.M.
He must have been imagining things, because now the voices are silent. It sounded like Henry and another person in response, but the words have been swallowed by the rain and wind or maybe they were never there at all. Now he hears nothing human except his own breath. He slings the canvas bag across his shoulders and resumes jogging along the trail, through the rain. He dodges broken branches, climbs over downed trees, avoids the biggest puddles. At the quarry he turns left and hurries up the steep slope.
Hiking up to check the airstrip was a total waste of time. On the way back Tobias slipped on the path and skidded down the hill on his butt, yelling and cursing. The dock guardhouse was empty too and Bert’s boat was missing. Looking around the small room, he saw nothing suspicious, but he kicked Bert’s desk, splintering the cheap wood veneer.
With each failed search, his mood grows progressively darker. But other than the airstrip and the dock, there is no other way to get off island. So the women have got to be trapped on the island overnight, most likely in the quarry caves everyone talks about. He has never been there, but has a good idea of where they are. He knows how to set up surveillance of the area and find Henry and the women.
At the top of the cliff, he sets the canvas bag under a stunted pine and spreads his slicker on the rain-soaked ground. This is a good place: the branches offer some cover from the constant rain and the root system provides additional structural support to the pebbly overhang. He stretches out prone on the ground with the rifle, resting his elbows on the wet matted weeds at the cliff edge. Squinting through the night scope towards the shoreline, he gets a good look at two boats bobbing and tossing in the wild tide. From this distance he can’t identify the figures, but one of the boats could be Bert’s. The caves should be below him, at least fifty feet down. Their entrances are hidden by the cut of the rock face, but thanks to the technology he doesn’t need to see his prey to locate them.
Balancing the rifle against the tree trunk, he dons the thermal goggles and adjusts the position of the rubber eyecups. Mentally dividing the visual field into a grid, he scans the ground the way he was trained: systematically, searching from top to bottom of the visual field, column by column from left to right. After a storm like this, any beast dumb enough to risk the slippery rocks is likely to be human. As his eyes adjust to the eerie green glow of the heat-sensing mechanism, he recognizes the increase in his heart rate, the quickening of his breaths. He is getting close. He can feel it.
Henry is out there somewhere. Most likely with someone else because of the other voice he heard, though Tobias can’t imagine who on the staff would risk his career to help him. Somehow the boss lucked out and eluded him on the path through the woods, but he won’t get far. Not in his condition. Not with Tobias’s skills as a tracker and with Cyrus’s help. Cyrus hasn’t actually done anything yet, but Tobias saw the way the soldier’s eyes lit up at the mention of a job with the Bureau.
Problem is, Tobias hasn’t decided what to do with Henry when he finds him. All things being equal, the best career move would be to bring him in as a fugitive. Turn him over to the Bureau honchos to face charges. Only it isn’t clear exactly what those charges might be, or how a recounting of recent events might reflect on Tobias. Before he keeled over, didn’t Henry say something about a tape? Tobias will have to find that and destroy it. All things considered, it might be better to just kill him. Tobias can see the headlines: rogue agent taken down in the act of escaping with two high-interest prisoners.
But the idea of shooting Henry … well, it feels different from just letting him die of natural causes. Tobias has never been queasy, never disobeyed an order, not even when one of those little doubt-niggles made him question his superiors’ wisdom. He feels himself wavering just a little but no! Those soft memories are trying to undermine his resolve, to obscure his target. Silly memories of hanging out at the Bangor Tavern after work, of the first time Henry brought his infant daughter to the office. He pushes the images out of mind, because there’s no way Tobias Sampson is about to start shirking now, when there’s so much at stake. Henry is no longer his friend and mentor. He is now a traitor and when the time comes, Tobias will do what he was trained to do.
And in the meantime, no shortcuts. Just careful surveillance, each section in turn, not jumping ahead.
On the fourth sweep down the grid, he finds them. Three man-sized shapes. Estimating their location from the visible landmarks, the men are moving slowly in a northeast direction along the path cut into the granite between the quarry lake and the cliffs. They must have come from those boats because there’s nothing else on the south end of the island, even without the storm. One is probably Bert. The second has to be Cyrus, embedded with the enemy. But who’s the third?
He tightens the head-mount straps on the goggles, pushes himself two inches further over the cliff edge, and looks down towards the quarry water. Sweeping along the path, he identifies a second source of heat-image about fifty feet ahead of the men. It’s large and formless, not shaped like a person. He recognizes the pattern from training. It matches the type of heat dispersal made by warm-blooded bodies, either people or large animals, in a room with an open door. Or a cave opening. The three men will get there in a few minutes.
Working quickly, he pulls the two rope coils from the bag and ties one around the nearby pine. H
e walks along the cliff top to the southern rim, in case they try to escape in that direction. He wraps the second rope around a spruce and ties it tight. The tree’s not as sturdy as he’d like, but he’s got to cover that direction. If Bert is helping them escape, he’ll certainly know the best getaway routes.
He checks his belt for the four sets of handcuffs, wishing he’d brought more. He’ll need to Subdue, Disarm, Immobilize the three females plus Henry, in addition to Bert and whoever else is out helping them. With Cyrus’s help, he can bring them all in. Removing the smoke grenade from its packing, he places it within easy reach. Hopefully he won’t need it. Anything that makes it harder to see is of dubious value, especially with the reduced visibility from this damned rain. But he’s trained to be maximally prepared, to have all options available.
Replanting his elbows in the soggy earth at the very edge of the cliff, he scoots his body forward another inch and positions the rifle. He’s pretty sure what that green-glowing amorphous shape represents and he plans to be ready. He will not let Henry get away again. Or the women. Now he waits for the shoot signal from Cyrus’s flashlight.
55. AUSTIN, 10:34 P.M.
Someone’s coming.
Standing sentry just inside the narrow cave opening, Austin hears a noise along the path, coming from the direction of the detention center. Hopefully it’s Pops, but it could just as easily be Tobias. She eases her head outside and listens hard. Silence. The air is softer now. How can such violent weather bring such fresh-smelling air?
Retreating into the cave, Austin calls a whispered warning to Norah and Gandalf. Then she takes Tobias’s gun from her pocket and holds it out, butt first, to the two women, though it’s probably too much to hope for. This whole thing is a mess and it isn’t going to end well. Whatever was she thinking, that she could rescue anyone?
“Someone’s coming. Either one of you know how to use this?”
Gandalf leans back, hands splayed chest high with palms out. “Not me.”
“I could try,” Norah says. “I’ve never shot a gun, but my husband’s a cop and I’m a good bluff.”
Gandalf stares at her. “You’re married to a cop?”
“Separated.”
“Sleeping with a person who knows how to use a gun doesn’t count,” Austin says with disgust.
“If that someone coming is Tobias,” Gandalf says, “he is going to be furious out of his mind that he was overpowered by two women.”
“But it could also be my Pops.” Austin returns the gun to her pocket. She steps into the passage, leans against the carving.
“Anyone in there?” a male voice calls. “It’s Henry and Catherine.”
Austin’s shoulders sag in relief. She didn’t really expect Henry to make it. How could he possibly walk so far, given how bad he looked in the hallway? But Pops must have called Catherine and of course she would find a way to help Henry.
She touches the initials. Someday, someone will love her enough to help her like that. Until these last few days, she always thought her dad would be that person. Stepping outside, Austin guides Henry and Catherine through the narrow opening into the deep chamber, where Norah and Gandalf sit silently against the wall. Gandalf’s neck is tight with tension and Norah holds her arms stiffly, hands thrust into her jacket pockets. It probably would have been a mistake to give a gun to two angry women facing their jailor.
Jailors, she reminds herself. She was one of them.
In the flickering light from the candle stubs, Henry looks pasty and grim. He leans hard on his wife, his arm draped over her shoulder. Austin doesn’t know Catherine well, just enough to say hello in the supermarket aisles or wave as their cars pass on the road. She wasn’t that friendly with their daughter either. Lissa was three years ahead in school and she hung out with the girls who wore jeans with sparkles on the hip pockets and went shopping with their mothers in Boston on school vacations. Mostly Austin can’t forgive Lissa for being the person Gabe wrote to from Iraq.
What’s the introduction etiquette in this situation? “Catherine, these ladies are Norah and Gandalf,” she mumbles. “I’m going out to watch for Pops.”
Sticking her face back into the wet night and breathing deeply, Austin admits she’s a coward for leaving the four of them alone. She fingers the crinkly pages in her pocket and admits she’d rather face the unknown forces lurking outside than the emotions brewing in the stuffy cave room. Closing her eyes, she tries to block out the sound of waves smashing against rocks in the angry bay beyond the quarry. She listens for voices, for footsteps.
What’s keeping Pops?
If not for the slippery rock, she might have missed them in the racket of the rain. A sharp cry comes from the left, followed by a thud and the murmur of voices—more than one. With a skeleton staff on duty, Tobias will most likely be alone, so this is probably—hopefully—Pops and Bert. Still, she stays hidden in the narrow opening, hoping the three adult-sized silhouettes moving along the path are Pops and Bert. And who else?
“Austin?” Pops’s voice draws her out of her hiding place. She throws her arms around him and presses her face against his wet slicker.
Bert rests his hand briefly on Austin’s shoulder. “Thank God you’re okay. Tobias said …”
“Better not talk out here,” Pops says. “Let’s see if these ladies are ready to travel.”
“Henry and Catherine too,” Austin says.
Bert turns to Cyrus and points to the path beyond the cave. “Walk north twenty feet or so, and keep a look-out, okay? We’ll hold everyone in the cave for another ten, fifteen minutes. Got to time this right, so we get down to the boats just after the tide turns.”
Austin waits until they are inside the passageway before asking Pops, “What’s Cyrus doing here?”
“Bert asked him to help. Why?”
“He’s Army.”
“Bert trusts him,” Pops says. “And he’s family.”
“That’s your answer for everything.” She smiles. “Did you find Margaret’s cove?”
“Yup. The boats are tied up there. The tide’ll turn pretty soon, and we’ll be able to get home. Let’s get these folks moving.”
Austin turns to the carving, just for a moment. Thank you, Margaret, she whispers. She traces the letters and numbers first, and then around the twisted wreath of branches and leaves. Her fingers find the thin line where the broken piece makes the circle whole. She leans against the stone, letting the initials press into her body.
She wishes she could tell Gabe about Margaret’s letters. He would be so excited about having family spread over the world. And he could help her understand all the emotions warring inside her. Because if it was wrong to deport AF a hundred years ago for being Italian, for being in a union and believing in something the government didn’t like, what does that mean about what her government is doing now?
She sticks her head into the rainy night outside and looks around. Just Cyrus, leaning against the granite wall. Watching her.
56. GANDALF, 10:58 P.M.
Gandalf watches every move Henry Ames makes. Not that he stirs much after his wife helps him sit back against the cave wall, with Norah’s duffle as a cushion. The wife feeds him sips of water from a plastic bottle. She seems kind; how can she love someone who tortures people? Even if he doesn’t actually do the torture himself, even if he reprimands Ferret for his excesses, he still accepts the principle of aggressive questioning. Regardless if a person is innocent and telling the truth. At least about all the relevant issues.
But she cannot contemplate the state of Catherine’s conscience right now because it is hard to think straight. Her shakiness might be due to exhaustion, or hunger, or the lingering effects from the deep-freeze treatment. It feels like with chemo when her fever spiked and she hallucinated cloud people with suction-cup feet walking upside down on the apartment ceiling.
She leans closer to Norah. “How long does it take to get warm again?”
Norah squeezes her arm. “I’m still
cold.”
A new voice echoes in the cave entrance and an older man enters. Henry’s wife jumps up and hugs him. “Bert! Thank God you’re here. Can you get us home?”
“I think so.” Bert squats in front of Henry, and the three of them talk in low voices. Gandalf listens intently, but cannot deconstruct the sounds into words or sentences. Then the new arrival turns to Norah and Gandalf. He sticks out his hand.
“Bert Carter. I captain the ferry between Storm Harbor and Hurricane. Ray and I have boats to get you folks out of here.”
Norah takes his hand. “Are you Austin’s grandfather?”
Bert tilts his head and closes one eye, which makes him look incongruously clownish in the candlelight. “That would be Ray. I’m his cousin.”
“What are we waiting for?” Norah asks.
“The tide. Can’t get the boats out of the cove until it turns. It’s safer waiting here. Down by the water there’s no shelter, no place to hide. But it’ll take a while to get us all down the cliff and into the boats. We’ll start pretty soon.” Bert turns back and resumes his conversation with Catherine and Henry as another man walks into the cave, followed by Austin a moment later.
“This is Ray Coombs, my Pops,” she tells Gandalf and Norah.
“Thank you so much,” Gandalf says.
“Thank me when we’ve got you to safety,” he says.
Bert joins them. “We’ll head down in two groups. To attract less attention, in case Tobias is watching. You’re sick, Henry. I want you coming with me in the first group. My boat has a closed cabin.”
“Norah’s hurt,” Austin says. “She should go with you too.”
“Makes sense.” Bert helps Norah stand, then checks his watch. “The rest of you wait ten, fifteen minutes. By the time both boats are loaded in, the tide will carry us out.”
“Cyrus will keep watch until the last minute,” Ray says. “Then he’ll come down with us.”
On Hurricane Island Page 24
