Whistler's Angel (The Bannerman Series)

by Maxim, John R.

  Aubrey listened as Lockwood related what his man on the scene had reported to him. “Kaplan’s been there two weeks. Could have taken Whistler easy. You said just watch, so Kaplan did. You said he should see where they went, who they talked to, which was mostly no one you’d care about.”

  “What phone are you using to call me, Mr. Lockwood?”

  “The cell phone you gave me. You said it’s secure.”

  “It is. Now what’s this about Ragland?”

  “Let me tell it, okay? We got context here. My guy tailed Whistler and the girl to this bar. It’s a bar they’d gone to a few times before this. They always try to take the same seats. They always sit like they’re watching and waiting for someone, but until last night no one shows. Last night the place is almost filled when Ragland and his wife come waltzing in. They go to the one empty table. Whistler looks over to the table where they sat. The guy looks toward Whistler, kind of gives him a wave. Whistler pretends not to know him.”

  “You’re certain it was Ragland?”

  “You can turn on the news. But first let me tell you what’s not on the news. Oh, Wait. I didn’t tell you that Ragland got shot.”

  “A…significant detail, Mr. Lockwood.”

  “It’s not too bad. I hear it looks like he’ll live.”

  His man, Kaplan, said Lockwood, had a front row seat. “He’s sitting on the opposite side of the bar. For a minute, he thinks Whistler and the girl might have made him. They’re looking up toward him and they’re whispering. But then he realizes they’re not watching him, they’re watching someone who’s standing outside. He turns around himself, sees two guys he doesn’t know, but they don’t look like much so he ignores them. Two minutes later, one of these guys comes in, walks over to Ragland, yells something and shoots him.”

  “Yells what?”

  “God something. Like a curse. He didn’t catch it exactly. Anyway, by this time, Whistler’s out of his stool. But the girl grabs Whistler; she holds him back and, swoosh, she nails the guy with a knife. She throws it. You got that? From way across the room. It’s this plain old knife she was sitting there eating with. And remember, this guy’s not standing still.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, the guy, who’s now got her knife in his head, stays on his feet, but the guy’s one big twitch. Suddenly he’s spraying the room. Two or three more get shot before Whistler can get at him. Whistler takes him down and he takes the guy’s gun. The girl meanwhile runs to Ragland. She yells to Whistler, ‘Watch the front, I’ve got your back.’ Does that still sound to you like she’s Little Bo Peep?”

  “Never mind the girl. Stay with Whistler and Ragland.”

  “Whistler clubs some other guy who was trying to jump him. I’m not sure what that was about. Then, after telling my guy to get down, he shoots through the window at this first shooter’s partner who by then is coming up with their car. Whistler misses him; the guy gets away. Whistler gets the girl and he makes her sit down and act like her dinner’s all she cares about. Whistler tells the barmaid to call the cops. Oh, and this barmaid, here’s what’s funny about her. She not only…”

  “Mr. Lockwood…never mind the barmaid either, if you please. Confine yourself to Whistler and Ragland.”

  “That was it. He never goes near Ragland himself.”

  “Never spoke to him. Nothing?”

  “Not a word sinc“e Ragland got there.”

  “Then why would you think they know each other?”

  “From what my guy saw and he says he’s pretty sure. First he saw Ragland’s wife make eye music with Whistler, and then there’s that wave I just told you about.”

  “Yes, you told me. But did Whistler respond?”

  “He didn’t get a chance because right at that moment, Whistler’s girl friend spots these two jokers outside and she says, like, we better check them out.”

  “No idea who they were? Or why they shot Ragland?”

  “My guy’s first thought was that maybe it was us. He knew that you and Poole took some heat from Ragland’s show. That’s why he didn’t wait for the cops to show up, but he hung around outside with the crowd. I told him, no way this would have been us. I told him we’d have done it cleaner than that. And most likely it’s me who would have handled it.”

  “We would not have done it at all, Mr. Lockwood. Philip Ragland’s an annoyance. Nothing more.”

  “Until now, you mean, because now here’s the question. Why was Whistler meeting Ragland? What would Whistler be giving to Ragland?”

  Aubrey was silent.

  “You still there, Mr. Aubrey?”

  “I’m here. I’m thinking.”

  “I say Whistler’s going public. I say Ragland, pretty soon, is going to do another show and he’s going to wave that ledger of yours. We all get indicted, all except Mr. Poole. Poole will say how he’s shocked and disappointed. Meanwhile, Whistler walks away, this time for good. Whistler’s already disconnected himself, and it looks like he had help from the cops.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Kaplan was watching while this cop talks to Whistler. He says the cop, at first, is trying to act like a cop while the other cops are around. Pretty soon, though, it’s clear the cop is friendly with Whistler. He says the cop also huddled with the barmaid I mentioned. And this barmaid, like I tried to tell you before, there’s something funny about her. She sees people blown away; she never loses her cool, Whistler gives her instructions and she does what he says. Later on, the cop gets there, she huddles with him and he looks like he’s taking instructions from her. Kaplan says…”

  “Mr. Lockwood…”

  “Oh, and then at the end there’s these whispers between them. The barmaid pats their arms like she’s saying, ‘I’ll handle this. You two make yourselves scarce.’ Then Whistler and the Geller girl slip out the back way, and…”

  “Mr. Lockwood, you’re advancing a conspiracy theory that is ludicrous on its face. You’re suggesting that Whistler has assembled a team that consists of almost everyone he’s encountered on that island.”

  “What, this is nuts? Then tell me this. How does Whistler walk away? He goes out the back door and from that minute on, it’s like Whistler doesn’t exist. You watch the news; you see nothing about Whistler. Not him, not the girl, not how she threw that knife, not how Whistler grabbed the gun and blasted away at the shooter’s driver outside. It’s all about Ragland. Ragland’s got center stage. Pretty soon, now, he’s going to do his solo.”

  “Philip Ragland is a national figure, Mr. Lockwood. That is why he’d be the center of attention.”

  “So you’re blowing this off?”

  “No, I’m going to think about it.”

  “If I’m right, don’t think about it too long.”

  “I’ll confer with Mr. Poole.”

  “Confer for what? Poole would hang us out to dry. We should move. You should let me take care of this.”

  This, from the man who took care of Whistler’s women and nearly got them all killed or maimed. This also from the man who, acting on his own, once caused a Woods Hole research ship to be seized. Philip Ragland loved that one. It was worth a whole program.

  As for the scenario suggested by Lockwood, it seemed unlikely in the extreme. Why would Whistler get in bed with Philip Ragland, especially? Surely Ragland was a critic of his government’s drug policy, but he was only one of many and a lesser one at that. Why would Whistler go to Ragland as opposed to, for example, CNN, The New York Times or 60 Minutes? And why now, for that matter? Because his year was almost up? That year was the father’s suggestion, not theirs. What possible relevance could that have?

  And yet it was troubling. The coincidence above all. Whistler sails to that island, hangs around doing nothing, goes out to a restaurant one evening. Philip Ragland shows up on the very same island and goes to the very same restaurant. And yet if those two were planning to meet, would they not have done so in secret? Why be seen together? Why would Ragland bring his wife? Why g
o through a charade of not knowing each other? According to Lockwood, they exchanged non-verbal greetings. That would seem to defeat the charade.

  “Mr. Lockwood, I’m in need of more information. Is your man still on the scene surveilling Whistler?”

  “Uh-huh. And he’s checking out that cop and the barmaid.”

  “Forget about them. Is your man watching Whistler?”

  “As good as he can. Whistler moved his boat. He’s keeping it out on open water.”

  “Fly down there. Take our plane. You can be there by mid-morning. All I want you to do is watch and report. Need I add that you are not to let them see you?”

  “Prick’ll see me one more time before I shoot out both his eyes.”

  “Mr. Lockwood…have you heard me? Did you understand me?”

  “You said to just watch. That’s okay; I can wait. Anyway, first I want to mess up the girl. I want Whistler to know that’s for Briggs. Oh, and you.”

  Oh, and me, thought Aubrey. Good of him to remember. “Leave at once, Mr. Lockwood. Call the minute you get there. As for our Mr. Poole, he’s less removed than you think. Don’t imagine that he is unindictable. I’ll deal with Poole and you’ll do as you’re told. I’ll say again that you’re to take no action. Am I clear on that, Mr. Lockwood?”

  “How about I take Briggs? Get him back on the horse.”

  Aubrey blinked. “You’re not serious, are you?”

  “What, because he’s still mad? This could help him get over it.”

  “Mr. Lockwood…I’m still not sure that you hear me. You will not take Briggs, nor would he wish to go. Beyond that, you’re not going to a Halloween party. He would hardly blend in with the populace.”

  “Yeah, I know. The face. I just thought…”

  “Do not think.”

  “Hey, why do you always have to be such a shit? It’s me thinking that fixed it so we know where Whistler is. It’s me thinking that got him where we can get at him before he messes up what we got here.”

  “Mr. Lockwood, I’ll remind you… No, I won’t. Never mind.”

  “Just tell me we’ll finish what we started this time. No more deals, no more pay-offs. We just fix it.”

  “Oh, yes, Mr. Lockwood.” But in my way, not yours. Depend on it, however. “We’ll fix it.”

  EIGHTEEN

  As the boat that was bringing Sergeant Moore approached, Whistler took a moment to step below decks and switch on his cell phone and satellite phone and also his answering machine. He was halfway back topside when the satellite phone chirped. He reached for it, thinking that the caller might be Leslie.

  He said, “Sorry. It was off. What’s happening, Leslie?”

  But the call had come from much farther away. His father’s voice answered. “You tell me.”

  “Dad? Oh, Hi.” He tried not to sound startled.

  “Good morning, Adam. I’m in need of reassurance. I’m hoping you’ll tell me that you had no part in what happened on that island last night.”

  “You’re talking about that shootout in some local bar? How did you hear about that?”

  “Adam…we do have TV in Geneva. More specifically, we have CNN.”

  Oh, great, thought Whistler. Now it’s gone international. His father had probably been at his computer checking every new wire service update. He would also be looking at a little yellow blip that showed, within yards, the boat’s location.

  “Dad, we’re not even on the island at the moment. We’re anchored off shore and we’re about to have breakfast. Some friends we’ve made here are on their way out to join us. I thought that’s who was calling when I answered.”

  “If that’s so, why would you ask this Leslie what’s happening?”

  “What’s happening? Dad, that’s just an expression. You know, like, ‘How goes it? Wie Gehts?’”

  “Were you on the boat when the shooting took place?”

  “No, we’d gone out for a nice quiet dinner. As a matter of fact, we were with these same friends. When they get here you can ask them yourself if you’d like.”

  The line went silent for a beat. “But you knew about the shooting.”

  “Everyone does. It’s all over the news.”

  His father asked, “And you don’t know this Ragland?”

  “I’d never even heard of the man.”

  “Adam, I think you understand why I’d wonder. You would seem to have a good deal in common with the victim. By extension, so would Aubrey and Poole.”

  “Well, I’m not going to tell you that it didn’t cross my mind. But all I know is what they’re saying on the tube.” He paused. “Look, Dad, our company’s here. I’ve got to go help them tie up alongside.”

  “Why’d you turn off your phone?”

  “So we wouldn’t get called. Because every now and then, we’d rather not be disturbed. Will you stop with the suspicions? We’re okay. We’re just fine.”

  “And you’re staying clear of trouble? You’re sure?”

  “Believe me, I’ve been doing my best.”

  “Kate Geller tried to call you. They get CNN in Colorado as well and she had the same uneasy feeling that I had. She was ready to jump on a plane. You should call her…no, wait…I’d better do it myself. Listen, Adam, while we’re on the subject of Kate, let me ask how you’d feel if…after Kate sells her business…”

  “She’s found a buyer?”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  “You’re saying it’s you. Does she know that?”

  “Not yet. Listen, Adam…” Another silence, this one longer. “How would you feel if, not now, but down the road…”

  “You’re thinking about getting married again?”

  “I’m…thinking that I miss her. I like being with her. As I say, down the road. Nothing imminent.”

  “Have you asked her?”

  “I’ve asked her to move here. I didn’t say as what. I’m sure she’ll have some thoughts on that subject.”

  “Well, my feelings are that I like you together. I’m sure that Claudia would feel the same way. Want to ask her yourself? I’ll put her on.”

  “Not now. You talk it over. Let it settle for a while.”

  “Look, Dad…if it’s us that’s holding you back…”

  “No, I have some things that need attending to first. In the meantime, leave the damned telephones on. I don’t like it when you’re out of reach.”

  Whistler waited for his father to break the connection, then he breathed a qualified sigh of relief. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have lied to his father, even though what he’d said had been technically accurate. If he’d told him the truth, he’d have to have told him how Claudia took out that shooter. It should be up to Claudia who she’d tell, if and when. And God knows what his father’s reaction would have been. He would surely have sent some people here to look after them. The twins, most likely. This island had been traumatized enough without those two. Anyway, depending on why Moore had come calling, their role in all this should continue to fade.

  Phil had slowed his engines and maneuvered his boat abeam of the yacht’s starboard quarter. Whistler dropped fenders so that they could tie up, but Phil said, “We’re going to stand off and wait for Eddie. That okay? He said he wants to talk to you alone.”

  Whistler looked toward Leslie. She was gesturing again; she was pressing palms down, and she was nodding. She seemed to be saying that this would be all right. She mouthed the words, “He’s a good guy. Don’t worry.” Whistler next looked at Moore. He looked into his eyes. He saw a new interest, a new curiosity, beyond what he’d seen the night before. And he noted that Moore had brought a small briefcase with him. He wondered what Moore might have to show him.

  Whistler answered, “Come aboard,” and he held out a hand, waiting to help the Sergeant climb the railing.

  “Nice boat, Mr. Whistler. Good morning, Miss Geller.” He smiled and added, “Yeah, I know your true names. Once the press was gone, Leslie told me why you fudged them. That isn’t a problem
for now.”

  “Coffee’s on. Would you like some?”

  “Thank you. I would. And I’d like to talk to just you, if my may.” He turned to Claudia. “Would you mind very much?”

  She looked into his eyes, rather strangely, thought Whistler. But she gave him a smile. She asked how he took his coffee. She said she’d bring it up when it was ready.

  Whistler gestured toward the table at the rear of the cockpit and invited the policeman to sit. Moore asked him, very quietly, “How’s she doing this morning?”

  “Much better. How else can I help you?”

  Moore didn’t respond. He was looking toward the hatch as if hoping for another glimpse of Claudia.

  “Sergeant Moore?”

  “Huh? Sorry. I don’t mean to stare. Miss Geller is an interesting young woman.”

  “Is she why you’re here?”

  “Well…a number of things. I could use that cup of coffee. This thing has kept me hopping all night.”

  “I’m sure it has.”

  “As to why I came out here with all that’s going on, it’s more about you than Miss Geller.”

  “Go on.”

  “I spent a little time sitting at a computer. I heard you when you said you didn’t want to be involved, but I think you’ll understand if I got curious about you.”

  Whistler shrugged. “I don’t imagine that you found very much.”

  “Well, I did confirm some of what little you told me. Not much beyond that because your records are sealed. It’s almost fair to say that you ceased to exist from about…what age…twenty-five or twenty-six?”

  “A lot of peoples’ records are sealed. You know that.”

  “You stayed in Special Ops? You’re still Army?”

  “I’m inactive.”

  “You don’t want to tell me what you did in Special Ops?”

  “I think you know that I can’t.”

  “Whatever you did, it must have paid very well.” Moore took in the yacht with a sweep of his hand. “Or are you independently wealthy?”

  “Good investments.”

  Moore sat back. He nodded. “I’m relieved to hear that. Special Ops has been known to do drug interdictions. All those drugs, all that cash, there must have been a few temptations.”