Whistler's Angel (The Bannerman Series)

by Maxim, John R.

  “So…he’s lying to her?”

  “Or his son lied to him. You want my guess? It’s his son lied to him. Because then he sounded like he’s starting to wonder. He starts to say, ‘Okay, maybe I’d better…,’ but he doesn’t finish the sentence. I think he’s going to fly over himself. What else would follow ‘Maybe I’d better?’”

  “Did you check with the airlines?”

  “I got somebody on it. If I’m right, she gets here this afternoon sometime.

  The father gets here early this evening at best.”

  Time difference, thought Lockwood. They’re all here by tonight, maybe all on that boat. That’s why Whistler’s bringing it back to the dock. This could be too good to pass up. The

  boat reminded him. “You said Whistler had a meeting?”

  “With this deputy who questioned him after the shooting. Also with the barmaid I told you about. Also with her boss from the restaurant.”

  “That’s this morning?”

  “Cozy, right? They all met for breakfast.”

  “But what for? Why the meeting?”

  “Ask me, I’d have said to get their stories straight,” said Kaplan. “Remember, all three of them covered for Whistler. Whistler and the girl don’t get a peep on the news. Here’s the question. Why should these three people cover? What is Whistler to them?”

  “You got an answer?”

  “Yeah, I do. It’s like I thought. Gotta be they’re old friends. Gotta be they knew him from way before this.”

  “Except Whistler’s a loner. He doesn’t have any friends.”

  “Vernon…they’re out there having breakfast on his boat. He takes the boat out there, he shuts off his phones, and they’re having this meeting, passing papers around. Does that sound anti-social to you?”

  Lockwood’s mind had been elsewhere. “Wait a second. What papers?”

  “How would I know what papers? I’m on shore with binocs.”

  “Well, the stack…was it thick? Like they copied, say, a book?”

  Kaplan blinked. He asked, “What book would that be?”

  “There’s this book Whistler stole. It’s none of your business. But did it look thick like a book?”

  “I couldn’t see.”

  “The cop who was there. What did you learn about him?”

  “I asked around a little. That was all I had time for. I found out he was Army before he was a cop. I found out he was over in Iraq for Desert Storm. Whistler, too, am I right? Whistler did Special Ops. The cop could have been in Whistler’s outfit over there. It’s a stretch, but it wouldn’t surprise me.”

  Lockwood grunted, then shrugged. In his head he could see Felix Aubrey’s lip curling. “Mr. Lockwood, we had more than a half million troops there. That is hardly a definitive connection.”

  He asked, “The barmaid. You get anything on her?”

  “Hard to say. She comes and goes. She seems to travel a lot. She doesn’t work anywhere full-time.”

  “She travels, huh? Like where and for what? Is she maybe an advance man for Whistler?”

  “Um, Vern…she tends bar. Whistler drinks in that bar. Let’s not make any huge fucking leaps here.”

  “Yeah, but say she knew him before. Say she’s a lot more than you think.”

  “Like what, for instance? She also waits tables?”

  “That woman, the knife, who cut Briggs and Aubrey. No one knows what she looks like. What if this could be her?”

  Kaplan grimaced. “I think you need a nap.”

  “No, let’s run with this a minute. Say you think that’s who she is. Say maybe you were wrong about who threw that knife. Say maybe it turned out to be her.”

  “Um…except we know it wasn’t. This is make-believe, right?”

  “What we’re doing is maybe improvising a little. What would Aubrey do if he thought it was her?”

  “Vern…her who did what? You’re losing me here.”

  “Her who did all of it. Her who cut Aubrey.”

  “First you’re thinking it’s the mother, then you’re thinking it’s the daughter. The daughter, since last night, becomes the much better bet.”

  “The daughter’s got an alibi from when she got shot. I forgot that. She couldn’t have done it.”

  “So you’re going to go to Aubrey and say, ‘Hey, guess what? I narrowed down the suspects; here’s where I come out. The knife had to be someone who knows Whistler, correct? Who’d know the guy better than his bartender, right?’ Vern…you’re asking to be shit on again.”

  “We’ll get proof.”

  “What proof?”

  “I don’t know. I have to think.”

  “Explain to me, though. The point of this is…?”

  “To get Felix Aubrey off his ass, is the point. This could do it. This could just maybe do it.”

  “Vern…you gotta trust me. This is too fucking dumb.”

  “Arnold…you never had your balls cut off, did you? It does things to your cogitative faculties.”

  Your what?”

  “It fucks you up, Arnold. Read a book, for Christ’s sake.”

  Lockwood opened the overnight bag that he’d brought. On top was a pistol that he’d wrapped in a towel, along with spare clips and a silencer. Underneath were several cellular phones. He selected the one that was marked with an “A.” It was specially coded. It reached only one party. He flipped it open and pressed the redial button.

  “Vern…who are you calling?”

  “Aubrey said to check in; I’m checking in.”

  “Hey, do me a favor. Leave me out of this, okay?”

  “You kidding? It’s you who gave me the idea.”

  “Take credit. With my blessing. You got my permission.”

  “You want to quit whining?”

  “Take that nap first, okay?”

  Lockwood raised a hand, telling Kaplan to shut up as he heard Aubrey’s voice saying, “Speak.”

  “Mr. Aubrey? It’s me. Are you sitting down? You’re not going to believe what I found out here.”

  “No, no, no, Mr. Lockwood. Put all that aside.”

  Felix Aubrey had listened with growing dismay to the drone of Vern the Burn’s recitation. The mother coming, maybe. The father coming, maybe. Adam Whistler and his out-of-thin-air co-conspirators meeting for breakfast to plan their next move. The proof? They were seen with sheets of paper. The boat is at the dock, now an easier target. We finish them all when they get here…and a bonus. Jill the Ripper has at last been unmasked. She is revealed to be some cocktail waitress who has honed her skills in an island saloon by sectioning lemons and limes.

  The man’s a marvel, thought Aubrey. Never fails to astonish.

  “Mr. Lockwood…now, listen. There is more urgent business. I want you to put Whistler out of your mind.”

  “You don’t care we know who cut you? I got sources. It’s her.”

  “And of course I believe you.” You damned fool, thought Felix Aubrey. “But even she can wait. This is much more immediate. Do you have a street map? Look up Lagoon Road. Yes, I’ll wait. You want number 22.”

  Aubrey drummed his fingers until Lockwood came back on. Lockwood said, “Yeah, I got it. What’s there?”

  “Not a what; it’s a who. A very dangerous man, his name is Joshua Crow. He is one of the two who tried to kill Mr. Ragland. As we speak, he is waiting for you and your associate. Listen carefully now. Are you listening?”

  “I’m listening, but how did you know this?”

  “He was identified this morning. It’s been on the news. I need you to see that he harms no one else. Am I clear in my meaning, Mr. Lockwood?”

  “Yeah, but wait a second. What’s this guy to us?”

  “You need only know that we don’t want him found. I am giving you that task, Mr. Lockwood.”

  “This…phone we’re on. You’re sure this is private?”

  “Mr. Lockwood, you have just proposed a mass murder. Only now do you ask if this phone is secure? If you’re speaking to me
on the phone that you were issued, yes, I assure you, it’s secure.”

  “Yeah, okay, then what’s this ‘Am I clear in my meaning?’ You’re so sure, let’s hear you say it in plain English.”

  “I suppose I’d best,” said Aubrey. “There must be no mistake. Mr. Crow is to vanish, never more to be seen.”

  “That’s not plain English. That’s like ‘Get him out of town.’”

  Aubrey sighed. “Never mind then. The reward will go elsewhere. It is double the amount that you’re accustomed to, Vernon. Tell you what…let me speak to your associate.”

  “What for?”

  “You said he’s a man who does what needs to be done. Perhaps I don’t need you, Mr. Lockwood.”

  “Yeah, well, he works for me. You want to deal, deal through me. What he’d get, though…it’s extra? Not out of my end.”

  “It is extra. In this case, twenty thousand.”

  “And all we got to do is…”

  “Kill the man, Mr. Lockwood. See that he is no more. End his life. Do away with him. Rub the man out. Have I covered every nuance, Mr. Lockwood?”

  “Yeah, I get you.”

  “Make him vanish, Mr. Lockwood. Do it now; do it thoroughly. You’re to leave no trace that a man such as this ever blemished the bosom of mankind.”

  “That he what?”

  “No trace, Mr. Lockwood. Not so much as a footprint. Especially any papers, communications devices, any diary, if he has one. Every trace.”

  “Hang on a sec, okay? I gotta confer.”

  Aubrey heard a tiny blip as Lockwood pressed his mute button so that he could speak privately with his man. Typical of Lockwood, thought Aubrey. The man sees a mute button on a phone that he’s been issued and assumes that the mute function actually mutes. He’s never wondered why anyone would issue a phone that is capable of excluding the issuer. Aubrey’s own did work, of course. Lockwood couldn’t hear him. But he could hear Lockwood’s every word.

  “Did you know they made the shooters?” Lockwood asked his man, Kaplan.

  “Yeah, a little while ago. Guy named Breen’s the one who took the knife in his head. Guy named Crow is the leader. He’s still on the loose.”

  “Nice that you told me. Next time tell me these things.”

  “Okay, but so what? What are these guys to you?”

  “I’ll tell you what they are.” Lockwood gestured toward his cell phone. “You know what this sounds like, what Aubrey is saying? This sounds like Aubrey sent these guys after Ragland. They fucked up; now Aubrey doesn’t want them caught and questioned. He wants us to pop the one named Crow.”

  Kaplan said, “Did I tell you? I thought it was us. You remember I said why I didn’t hang around is because I thought that maybe it was us.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Lockwood. “It could not have been Aubrey. Aubrey didn’t know about any of this until I told him myself.”

  “Maybe that was an act.”

  “Nah, he didn’t know. He asked all kinds of questions. If he knew, he’d have just made some faggy little crack like, ‘We have it well in hand, Mr. Lockwood.’”

  “But it’s him who wants him whacked. He didn’t tell you how come?”

  Aubrey almost could hear Lockwood’s primitive brain struggling to achieve a synapsis. Success came more quickly than Aubrey would have thought. Lockwood asked, “Hey, wait, what did you say the guy yelled? I mean the one who walked in and shot Ragland.”

  “I said I couldn’t make it out, but it sounded like a curse. On the news, though, they say he yelled, ‘God is not mocked.’”

  “A religious nut?”

  “Yeah, they’re both religious nuts. All this has been on the news.”

  Aubrey listened as Lockwood thought for a moment. Lockwood said, “Wait a second.” He pressed the mute button. He said, “Mr. Aubrey? Give us one more minute. We’re strategizing, okay?”

  “Take your time, Mr. Lockwood. Think it through, by all means.” Lockwood pressed his useless mute button once more.

  Lockwood said to Kaplan, “That’s the answer. Religious. It had to be Poole who sent these two after Ragland. Aubrey knows this and now he has to cover for Poole.”

  “Poole’s the same kind of nut?”

  “I used to think he just talks it, but, yeah, I think it finally messed with his head. Whatever he is, he controls all the money. If Aubrey’s doing this to cover for Poole, Aubrey’s getting a bundle for doing it.”

  “So?”

  “Maybe we have an opportunity here. I gotta think about this.”

  “Speaking of which,” said Kaplan, “you were talking about my end. How much is my end if I help you with this?”

  “Five grand. That’s on top of what I pay you.”

  “Make it ten.”

  “It’s ten,” Lockwood answered, “if I like what you do. See that? I take care of you, right? After this…well, we’ll see, but I’m getting some ideas. After this, you could make a lot more.”

  “After this comes Whistler?”

  “I don’t know yet. Let me think. Right now, let me get rid of Aubrey.”

  Felix Aubrey could barely restrain himself from screaming into the phone. He wanted to say, “Mr. Lockwood, you ass, did you hear me when I told you not to think? You’re not equipped for it. Your neurons fire blanks. The reason why you’re always outsmarting yourself is that yourself is even denser than you are.”

  But he didn’t.

  Aubrey waited until he heard the mute button’s blip. He asked, “Are you

  there, Mr. Lockwood?”

  “Yeah, we’re done.”

  “And your strategy, no doubt, is reduced to the following. You knock on Crow’s door, you identify yourself. He will let you in because he expects you; he thinks that you’ve come to assist him. Without further ado, you will shoot him. You will gather up everything belonging to him and you’ll put in a bag to take with you. You put the bag and Mr. Crow in the trunk of your car. Not his, your own; they’ll be looking for his.”

  “Hey, I know how to do this, Mr. Aubrey.”

  “You will find a quiet spot; it will be well off that island, and you will dismember his body. You’ll dispose of those parts that would aid the authorities in identifying the corpse. Ideally, the body should be totally consumed along with the contents of that bag. Is this your plan in essence, Mr. Lockwood?”

  “Yeah, like that.”

  “And of course you wouldn’t go back to that island. There would be no need because…listen to me closely...I have plans of my own for Adam Whistler. He’s to be left in peace for the moment.”

  “Left in peace? When we have him? I need twelve hours, tops. Then we’ll have every one of them all in one place.”

  “Mr. Lockwood…reflect. By no means do you have them. What you have is a hope that they might be assembling. Further, you hope that they’ll gather on that boat showing reckless disregard toward a foe of your caliber. You envision…what? A frontal attack in a busy marina? Or perhaps you see yourself rigging a bomb and blowing them out of the water.”

  “No bomb. Bomb’s are quick. He’s not going to die quick.”

  “Ah, yes,” recalled Aubrey, “you want him to suffer. And, oh, you would like to rape the girl in his presence, then slowly peel her face from her skull. Was that just the girl? Or the mother as well? Forgive me, I had taken careful notes of your fantasies, but I don’t seem to have them at hand.”

  “…Hey, screw you, Mr. Aubrey.”

  “Are you hearing me, you cretin?” Aubrey’s voice became a hiss. “I’ve given you a task. Go and do it. Only that. Don’t go anywhere near Whistler. Don’t depart from my instructions in any particular without calling to check with me first. Am I clear?”

  “We’ll go get this Crow guy. After that, we’re gonna talk.”

  “I do so enjoy our exchanges, Mr. Lockwood. I’ll be counting the hours. Goodbye.”

  TWENTY FOUR

  Whistler was still grumbling as they got into their car and drove out of the Pal
metto Bay Marina. He made a right turn toward the new Cross Island toll bridge. It was the shortest route to the hospital.

  Claudia was pleased that he’d consented to take her. Consented, however, was not quite the word. If he hadn’t, she’d have gone to see the Raglands on her own. He had lost that argument with her.

  She’d said, “Adam, this is something that I have to do. I think I’m supposed to. Come with me.”

  He then tried to dissuade her by making a show of taking two weapons from the locker. They would not, he told her, go anywhere unarmed as long as Crow was at large. He had shoved his Beretta into his belt and he took the MAC-10 plus an extra clip. He placed the sub-machine pistol in a large canvas tote and covered it with a sail bag. He took both kevlar vests and put one on himself, under a baggy gray sweatshirt. He insisted that she wear the other. He told her that he wanted her to keep the vest on until they set sail for Bermuda. He said he didn’t care how hot she got. He said he didn’t care if the vest made her look fat. That was the price she was going to pay for…

  “Adam,” she asked quietly, “what are you trying to do?”

  “I’m trying to get it through your head that it’s dangerous out there.”

  “Am I supposed to say, ‘I guess you’re right, it’s not worth it?”

  In fact, that’s exactly what he’d hoped.

  She’d said, “Tell you what…let’s not do this halfway. Let’s take the decksweeper with us.”

  “Listen, Claudia…

  The gun locker was still open. She reached in and got it. She squeezed it into the canvas tote. She said, “There. We’re covered. At short range, at least. But what if this Crow plunks away from a distance? Then we’ll want your big rifle. You know, the humane one? Let’s go. I’ll carry it out to the car.”

  She was up through the hatch with the M-87 before he was able to stop her. He said, “Claudia, get back here. Don’t wave that around.”