Black Joint Point wm-2

by Jeff Abbott

  She wobbled as she stood, sensation ebbing back into her feet, arms, hands and the small of her back. She ached everywhere. She bandaged her hand with a T-shirt she found in the bureau, tearing off a sleeve and wrapping the fabric around twice.

  She tried the door. Locked. A deadbolt, locked from outside, above the knob. She cussed under her breath, glanced around for a way to smash the door. Although Danny would hear that and come running, gun in hand.

  The porthole. Salt and oily stains grimed over the glass. It was secured with four twisting locks. She began to undo them.

  So what do you do? Bail out over the side and hope someone picks you up? You don’t even know where in the Gulf you are. Maybe the cops are there at Stoney’s house. Waiting, and you’re running away from a rescue.

  But her gut said that wasn’t the case. She couldn’t be far from the bay; he couldn’t have wandered or waited too far away.

  She unscrewed the final lock, yanked the panel free from the porthole. Wind and cold spray hit her face. Salt stung her lips. She saw two sailboats in the far distance.

  Go. Go.

  She prayed Danny Laffite didn’t see her launch herself into the water, didn’t run over her and crush her or chop her into floating mincemeat with the prop. Or didn’t stop to shoot her five times in the back as she tried to swim away. But he’d shoot her for sure, she thought, when he found her untied. Maybe she could take him, surprise him when he opened the door. But maybe not. Danny had the gun, his muscles weren’t aching from having been tied for hours, and he had the strength of the crazy on his side. There were other boats on the water. Someone would see her, God, yes. And if she waited… she’d lost one chance before, aboard Jupiter. He could stop the boat at any time to come fetch her and she wouldn’t be able to fight back. Seize the moment, she told herself.

  She turned and dug through the closet. No life preserver jacket. Nothing flotational. And no flares. Nothing but musty clothing. She found a big pair of blue jeans and remembered a news story about a young American girl who survived hours in the sea after a ferry in the Philippines capsized and sank, by fashioning her blue jeans into a crude float. Fine. She pulled on the jeans over her shorts. She saw a bright red pillow on the bed, small. Easy to see. Claudia grabbed it, shoved it under her T-shirt.

  Claudia pulled herself through the porthole. She threw herself into the deep green, pushing away from the boat with all the strength left in her legs.

  She hit the water like a stone wall. Air smashed out of her lungs, water closed over her head like six feet of packed dirt. The roar of Miss Catherine slicing through the waves sounded above her, churning, like gods rolling dice.

  She kicked down, down, down into the endless green. Stay down. Don’t let him have seen you. Please God, give me a chance.

  She felt the Gulf close its cold fist around her, and when she could no longer hold her breath, Claudia kicked hard again and broke the surface, a wave roiling into her chest, knocking her back down. She emerged; salt burning her hand, her face, her eyes. She coughed, keeping her head clear, turned toward the widening wake.

  Miss Catherine roared away from her, Danny standing on the flying bridge, steering through the crests. Not stopping, not turning back. He hadn’t seen her.

  She shivered. A wave picked her up in its swell and settled her back down. Her arms and legs ached like they’d been braided on a rack. Sharp, stinging pain hit in the hollow of her hand, and the T-shirt bandage she’d fashioned turned pink in the water. She thought of the silky sharks from a lifetime ago yesterday, tearing through the chum. Drawn by the blood.

  She tried to get her bearings from the sun, looked toward where she thought the shore would lie. Second-guessing yourself already? she thought. But she saw in the distance two sails unfurled, the dot of a cruiser cutting through the waves. He’s racing toward shore. You can’t be that far out in the Gulf. You can’t be. Right?

  Claudia pulled the bright red pillow from her shirt and began to wave it back and forth every ten seconds, facing the boats. Then she trod water. Wave. Tread. Repeat.

  Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

  The boats headed away from her. As Claudia began to swim, the fatal heaviness of exhaustion began its terrible creep.

  23

  ‘I don’t like a judge sniffing around,’ Alex said.

  ‘He was harmless.’ Stoney stood in front of the bay window.

  ‘He’s been here twice.’

  ‘He’s talking to everyone who knew Patch Gilbert. It’s not an issue.’

  ‘Not an issue.’

  ‘Look, he hardly asked me anything except where I’d met Patch. That was it. Said nothing about a land buy, nothing about Laffite, nothing. Okay? And I had to get rid of him. We couldn’t have him around when Danny sailed up, or have him coming in and seeing you, could we?’

  ‘No.’ Alex took his wire-rim glasses off, cleaned them on his shirt, put them back on. ‘If Danny’s killed your brother, how are you going to explain the motive?’

  ‘My boat’s gone. He was on the boat. I won’t have known what happened. Danny’s a freaking nutcase. He finally snapped. He had a grudge against me no one could explain. Why do I have to explain anything?’

  ‘You’re a cold bastard, Stoney. I have to say.’

  ‘I didn’t want my brother to get hurt.’

  ‘You didn’t lift a finger to help him,’ Alex said. ‘Family doesn’t matter to you?’

  ‘You kill people and you lecture me about family?’

  ‘I didn’t have a thing against Gilbert and Mrs Tran,’ Alex said. ‘Old, and they’d had good lives, probably. Jimmy was too dumb to live. I didn’t want them messing up my life. But shit, man, I wouldn’t kill family’

  ‘I didn’t kill my brother.’

  ‘Sure you did. You stole from me. You probably let your brother die instead of parting with one red cent. You’re a real honey.’ Alex unwrapped a stick of gum, offered the pack to Stoney, who shook his head. ‘Here’s what happens when Danny gets here. We meet him down on the dock.’

  ‘If Ben and Claudia are still alive…’

  ‘She’s got to go, man. Sorry. The kidnappers and Danny are dead, too. Your brother… you think he can be trusted, then fine.’

  ‘You kill his girlfriend, he’s not going to be happy.’

  ‘He’ll be less happy dead.’

  ‘Don’t kill him, Alex. Please.’ Stoney glanced out into the curve of the bay that fed the flats. ‘A boat’s coming. Not mine. A sportfisher.’

  ‘Danny Boy,’ Alex said. ‘Let’s go say hi.’ He tucked his gun into the back of his pants, closed a light jacket of Stoney’s above it.

  ‘You’re wearing a jacket in summer? That looks suspicious.’

  ‘Would you like to go shoot him, Stoney?’

  Stoney opened his mouth, closed it again. They headed down the deck stairs toward the dock.

  The boat chugged along, kept correcting course, as though the pilot was a bit unsure of his bearings. The morning had turned windy, the bay degrading into white choppiness.

  ‘Stand behind me,’ Alex said, ‘just a little.’

  ‘Are you going to shoot him right away?’ Stoney whispered.

  ‘No, I’m not,’ Alex said. ‘Just do what you’re told.’

  The Bertram, in need of paint, hovered in close to the dock. But it didn’t dock, staying about ten feet away. Stoney saw Danny – hair blown wild by wind and speed, standing in the shadow of the flying bridge.

  Alex raised both hands, palms out, showing they were empty.

  The sportfisher cut its motors. ‘Who’re you?’ Danny called.

  ‘I’m here to facilitate the transfer,’ Alex said.

  ‘Stoney,’ Danny said. ‘This some thug you hide behind?’

  ‘You mean like you’re hiding behind my brother and his girlfriend?’ Stoney said.

  ‘Where’s the journal and the Devil’s Eye?’ Danny asked.

  ‘Inside the house. Where’s my fucking boat?’ Stoney said.
/>   ‘You ask about your boat before your brother,’ Danny said. ‘Nice.’

  ‘We want to see that Ben and Claudia are safe before the exchange,’ Alex said. ‘This is a business transaction.’

  ‘It’s not quite like going to the ATM,’ Danny said. ‘You show me the Eye and the journal. You toss them to me on the boat. I pull out a little further. I let Ben and Claudia swim into the dock.’

  ‘No,’ Alex said. ‘You dock, and you show us that our friends are fine first.’

  ‘My way or no way,’ Danny said.

  ‘Fine,’ Alex said. ‘Sail off into the sunset.’

  Danny frowned. ‘I’ll call the cops, tell them what you did, Stoney. Here and in New Orleans,’

  ‘Call them,’ Alex said. ‘You’re a kidnapper. And you don’t have any proof. The guy who killed your cousin in New Orleans is dead. His name is Jimmy Bird. He shot himself earlier this week. He used us, he used you. Stoney didn’t hurt your cousin.’

  Stoney couldn’t even look at Alex.

  Danny stared at Alex, shook his head. ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘You got to work with me here, Danny, to get what you want. Otherwise you’re going to lose.’

  ‘Who the hell are you?’

  ‘I’m your only hope for getting what you want,’ Alex said. ‘Now. Dock. Or we walk away and you have nothing. Dock and you can have the Eye. We keep the rest of the treasure. Deal?’

  Stoney could see it play out on Danny’s face. The wanting. The obsession. The need to win, be right, not be the laughingstock anymore. ‘I’m supposed to check in with my associates on Stoney’s boat in ten minutes. I don’t, they kill Ben.’

  ‘You don’t have Ben with you?’ Stoney said. His voice rose.

  ‘He’s safe. I got Claudia.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Alex said. ‘See, we’re willing to trust you. We don’t want Ben or Claudia hurt. Jimmy Bird’s the one who screwed you over. I can show it to you in the paper, Danny. We’ll give you the Eye and trust you that you’ll give us Ben.’ He slowly pulled out of his jacket pocket the fake emerald Stoney had left in the storage unit, let it glitter in the light. ‘See. Yours. Just give us Claudia and Ben.’

  Danny chewed his lip for a moment, then turned the wheel slowly in toward the dock. Alex kept the fat emerald aloft, holding it in his fingertips.

  Danny hovered into position, pulled up against the dock. Stoney tossed bumpers against the dock to protect the boat, tossed a line onto Miss Catherine’s deck. Stoney quickly fed the rope around and through the dock cleat. Danny kept his gun trained on Alex.

  ‘We don’t have a gun on you,’ Alex said. ‘Put that down. Or I drop the Eye in the drink.’

  ‘Toss it up here,’ Danny said.

  Alex smiled – Stoney saw it, thought, Oh no, you’re not – tossed the fake Eye high, toward Danny’s reaching hand.

  Danny grabbed at the stone one-handed, his eyes widening, as Alex pulled his revolver from the back of his waist and fired once. Blood burst from Danny’s shoulder, and he fell backward onto the deck, screaming.

  Stoney climbed aboard, Alex following. Danny lay on his back, sobbing in pain. ‘You shot me. Jesus.’ He sounded shocked.

  ‘Go see if your brother and his girlfriend are aboard or not,’ Alex said. ‘I’ll stay here with Danny.’ He knelt by Danny, steadied him by putting a hand on his chest. ‘It’s okay, man. Calm down.’

  ‘Oh, please,’ Danny said. ‘Don’t kill me.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Alex said. He glanced up at Stoney. ‘What the fuck are you waiting on?’

  ‘The guys that were with him…’ Stoney said. ‘They might be below.’

  ‘Are they, Danny?’ Alex asked.

  ‘No… no…’ Danny moaned. ‘They’re gone.’

  ‘Go ahead, Stoney. Do some constructive work,’ Alex said. And he motioned with his gun.

  Stoney swallowed and hurried belowdecks. He checked the galley, a small stateroom, an empty head.

  ‘Ben buddy? Claudia?’ Stoney called in a low voice at the stateroom. ‘It’s okay. It’s over.’

  He unlocked the door, pushed it open with his fingertips.

  He saw the loops of cut rope, the broken mirror, the open porthole. Someone had been here, someone was gone now. He looked out the porthole to see if maybe Ben or Claudia was swimming away right now, but the water in the little cove was empty.

  Stoney went back up to the deck. Blood still pulsed from Danny’s shoulder, Alex kneeling by him.

  ‘No one’s there. Someone was tied up but they cut themselves loose and must’ve jumped ship.’

  ‘Claudia,’ Danny said. ‘I had… Claudia. I didn’t hurt her.’

  ‘What did you tell her, Danny?’ Alex asked.

  Danny blinked. ‘Tell her… nothing. She doesn’t know anything.’ He winced as he moved.

  ‘Where’s Ben?’ Alex asked.

  ‘Gar tried to rape Claudia. Asshole. I shot him, dumped his body overboard. Zack… took off with the other boat. With Ben aboard.’

  ‘You know who he’s talking about?’ Alex asked.

  ‘I don’t know any Gar or Zack,’ Stoney said.

  ‘Okay,’ Alex said. His voice went gentle. ‘Danny, who else knows about the treasure?’

  ‘No… one. I didn’t tell. Just wanted what was mine.’

  ‘That’s why you didn’t tell the cops who you thought murdered your cousin. You didn’t want anything getting in the way of you getting the Eye. You were gonna dig up illegal, same as us.’

  ‘Where is my brother, you asshole?’ Stoney demanded.

  ‘I don’t know. After you wouldn’t transfer the money, it all went south.’ Danny closed his eyes, opened them. ‘It hurts.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Please don’t kill me,’ Danny said.

  ‘I promised I wouldn’t,’ Alex said. He stood, offered the gun to Stoney. ‘You do it.’

  ‘What?’ Stoney said.

  ‘Your turn. I’ve done all the risky work. You’ve stolen from me, lied to me. He’s your problem.’

  ‘Um, really, no, that’s okay. You do it.’ Stoney took a step back.

  ‘If you don’t shoot him, I’ll shoot you.’

  Stoney gulped. ‘Then you won’t get the Eye.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s on your boat, buddy. I think that’s a little lie you cooked up so I’d stick around to clean up your mess. You wouldn’t let your brother take off on your boat if the Eye was on board. I know you.’ He smiled. ‘Last night I evened the playing field. Moved the rest of the treasure while you slept on your fat ass.’

  Stoney stared. ‘You couldn’t have.’

  ‘Oh, but I did,’ Alex said. ‘Shoot him.’

  ‘Please, no,’ Danny said. ‘You can’t. I’m a Laffite.’

  ‘No, you’re not,’ Alex said.

  ‘Fuck you, I am!’ Danny screamed.

  ‘I won’t,’ Stoney said.

  Alex aimed. ‘Kidneys or heart? Your choice, Stoney. I’d pick heart if I were you.’

  ‘Yeah, shoot him,’ Danny said. ‘He’s the asshole…’

  Stoney took the gun from Alex – he thought it would be heavy, but it was light as air – and pointed it at Danny, who started to scream.

  I can’t, Stoney thought. Then the gun pulsed and the top of Danny’s head blew off, sending a red spray across the deck.

  Danny stared up at him, eyes full of dismay and surprise, drops of blood clouding the irises.

  ‘There. Not so hard, was it?’ Alex said, like he was giving back a test with a B plus when a failing grade had been expected.

  Stoney thought, Now shoot Alex. Do it. Just do it and all this is over. But he thought of the rest of the treasure, the hundreds of silver and gold coins, and he handed the gun back to Alex without a word.

  ‘Now. We got two problems. The girlfriend, maybe he killed her.’

  ‘I don’t think so. I think she got away.’

  ‘So she’s out in the bay. Creates new risk, man. Changes everything
. We gotta hurry. I need your help.’

  ‘I…’ Stoney stared down at the body. ‘I just killed a man.’ He thought his knees would go weak, he’d vomit. Nothing. He waited for his hands to start shaking but now he felt pretty good. ‘If Claudia knows what Danny knew…’

  ‘If she’s out drowning in the Gulf, she may not be a problem,’ Alex said.

  ‘My brother… maybe we should go look for him. Take Danny’s boat and-’

  ‘No. Not much we can do there. Ben’s either dead by now or they’ll contact us. We got to deal with the problem at hand. Help me below.’

  In ten minutes it was done. The deck hosed, the bilges partially opened, the pumps undone, the engines going full steam, Miss Catherine headed back into the bay. She’d be sunk in a few minutes, into the deeper reach of the bay, but probably not entirely submerged. But a mess, without a body.

  They wrapped Danny Laffite in double-thick garbage bags, like a giant plastic burrito. Alex taped the ends closed, neat as Christmas wrapping. They put him in the back of the van, locked up the house, climbed into the car.

  ‘Stoney?’ Alex said. ‘Take a good look at Danny here. You try to fuck me over, you’re burrito boy, the sequel.’

  But I’m like you. I’ve killed a man now, Stoney thought, and suddenly I’m not so scared of you. Because I have the Eye, the trump card, and maybe you’re gonna be the next burrito.

  But he played safe. ‘I understand you completely, Alex.’

  ‘You got a good idea where to dump him?’

  Stoney nodded. They both sat into the van and roared away from Copano Flats, down the dirt and oyster-shell road.

  ‘Now,’ Alex said. ‘I got a new plan. Just in case this Claudia shows up.’

  Miss Catherine, never a proud ship, sputtered and gushed down into the muddy bottom of St Leo Bay, in a fairly shallow twenty feet. Water poured in, flooding the belowdecks, covering the bed where Gar died, the shattered glass that Claudia used to cut herself free. Miss Catherine tilted hard to port as she sank and the back stateroom flooded entirely, including the armoire holding the photocopied excerpt of John Fanning’s journal that Danny had showed to Claudia. The seawater covered the paper as the armoire canted over, smashed through the closet doors, and rested on its side. Little spot croakers and hardhead catfish swam down the stairs and through the portholes and began exploring this new world.