Black Jack Point

by Jeff Abbott

  Whit tucked the bottle back into the bar. Seeing Suzanne Gilbert wasn’t going to be pleasant now, and he decided he might as well get it over with.

  I love you, Lucy had said. He felt a little shiver of happiness, of nervousness, of new possibility opening before him.

  Lucy stood in the doorway. Pale again, the flush from their kiss gone. “The sheriff’s office called while I was getting off the phone with one of Patch’s army buddies. They want me to come in. For questioning.”

  9

  THE KIDNAPPERS SLIPPED over Claudia’s eyes a blindfold, heavy chamois cloth, reeking of boat polish. Hands clamped on her arms and yanked her to her feet, steered her belowdecks. She heard Ben stumbling, gasping next to her.

  The air in the cabin lay hot and still against her skin. Hands pushed her to the main salon’s carpet. They tied Claudia’s hands in front of her, the rope laced down to her feet and bound again. The knots were thick as doughnuts. She heard Ben’s wet breathing, like that of a tired, heavy dog.

  “You’re going to be so busted,” Ben said.

  “Doubtful,” Danny answered, a decided coldness in his voice that hadn’t been there when he spoke to Claudia. She heard him pacing back and forth near their heads, perhaps inspecting them like prize tarpon.

  “Where’s the journal?” Danny asked. “Where’s the emerald?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ben said.

  “Let me cut her,” Gar said, his mouth close to Claudia’s ear. “Maybe an inch at a time, start with the ring finger.”

  “Why don’t you just calm down?” Danny said, tension edging his voice. “We’re not at that stage quite yet. Search the boat.”

  They ransacked Jupiter. Cabinets torn open, leather cushions ripped, mattresses gutted. This went on for at least a half hour, the boat searched from stem to stern.

  Claudia pegged their positions from their voices. She had already labeled them: Danny, Redhead (a throaty, giggling tenor), and Gar (a low baritone). She heard fabric rustle as one of the men dropped to his knees between her and Ben. Then fingertips, gentle, against her shoulder.

  “The wrong place. The wrong time.” Danny touched her gently. “I want to be a better person than that. Truly. I’m sorry for you, miss…”

  “Leave her alone! You touch her I’ll kill you!” Ben screamed.

  “Shut up, brother. I’m not like some people I could name who slaughter the innocent. We are gentlemen here, aren’t we?”

  His partners made no answer. Lips smacked to her left, juicy-kissy, and the taste of copper tinged her mouth.

  “Listen, we’ll be expected back within a couple of hours,” Ben said. “We go missing, my brother will have the coast guard looking for us. They’ll hunt you down.”

  “Texas is a long swim away. Let me tell you what you’re going to do,” Redhead said. His voice held the hard brightness of a game show host. “You’re going to get onto the lovely, fancy onboard phone system here, call your brother. He wants to see you again, he’s going to transfer five million dollars into a series of offshore numbered accounts. In the Cayman Islands. The Bahamas. Anguilla. When all that’s done, we’re going to let you and your girl go home to your families. Sound good?” He laughed.

  “You’re nuts,” Ben said.

  “Five million’s not a lot to him,” Danny said. “We could get greedy. Take all of it.”

  “Kill you if we wanted,” Gar said.

  “Don’t be rude,” Danny said.

  “Stoney doesn’t have a liquid five million just hanging around. It’s in stocks, funds, real estate.”

  “It’s happening, baby, hap-pa-NING!” The redhead, giddy with putting the screws to people.

  “Ben,” Danny said. “It’s easy. I want three things from your brother. What he stole from me, which is a document, a journal. A valuable artifact connected to that journal, which is an emerald. And five million, to compensate me for killing my cousin, who was a nice guy. There. Isn’t that simple?”

  “You’re crazy. My brother doesn’t have what you’re looking for, and he wouldn’t hurt your cousin or anybody else.”

  “Isn’t your brother a little interested in treasure hunting? Hasn’t he filled a library full of books on it?”

  “Just as a hobby.”

  “Hobby. It’s gone past that. Time for Stoney to pay the piper. C’mon.” Claudia heard Ben yanked to his feet, his shoes scuffing the carpet near her knees. Wetness landed on the back of her neck. Ben’s blood.

  “Gar, put Claudia in the stateroom,” Danny ordered.

  Hands hoisted Claudia up in the air, crushing against her breasts and her hips, hurried her like a battering ram down the small flight of stairs and through the stateroom’s entrance, heaved her onto the torn mattress. She twisted as she fell, rolling, facing the ceiling.

  “Give me a moment, Gar,” Danny said. The stateroom door closed. But she heard gentle breathing nearby, near her face.

  “Claudia.” It was Danny. “I am truly sorry.”

  “You sound like a reasonable man,” Claudia lied. “Stop this. Let us go. Please.”

  “If you and Ben are innocent in all this, well, then I’m sorry. But how much do you know of Stoney Vaughn’s life?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Day-to-day living. Does Stoney help old ladies across the street or knock them out of his way? Pet dogs or kick them?”

  “I really don’t know him,” she said.

  “Do you think Stoney could commit murder? Kill a man in cold blood?”

  Her throat dried. “He’s a respected businessman…”

  “Ah. His money makes him a saint?” A sarcasm she didn’t like at all tightened his voice.

  “No,” she said. “Just as this mistake you’re making doesn’t make you a bad person, Danny. Please. Stop this.”

  Long silence again, the only sound the slap of waves against the hull. “What’s done is done. Life doesn’t offer erasers.”

  “No. It offers choices. You can choose to let us go. Piracy is a federal offense.”

  “Piracy?” Danny giggled, a short, sharp laugh. “Tell me, do you think of us as pirates? Because I love it, Claudia. You’ve made my day.”

  “Let us go, right now, and—”

  The door opened again.

  “She behaving?” Gar’s voice, low. “Or you just copping a feel?”

  “Save your crudity for your friend,” Danny said.

  “I want to have a private chat with her,” Gar said.

  “Private about what?”

  “Don’t get in a knot, man. I’m not gonna hurt her. Go on.”

  Claudia stayed very still.

  “You don’t tell me what to do,” Danny said. “You work for me.”

  “You want to know where these goods are, right? I can get her to tell without hurting a hair on her head. If she knows. Just give me a minute. You need to go help with Ben talking to Stoney.”

  The bedsprings creaked as Danny stood up. “I’ll be back later, Claudia. You’ll be fine,” he said. And then she heard the door shut.

  A thick fingertip cruised along her scalp, parting her hair. The fingernail, hard and uneven, gouged into the tender nape of her neck.

  “You fought us,” Gar cooed. “A little fishy like you. That pisses me off.”

  “Sorry.”

  Gar daubed his finger at the blood drop on her neck, smearing it along her flesh like finger paint. Slow. Gentle. Suddenly he tangled his fist in her hair, slamming her head hard against the bed’s headboard. Her teeth knocked together, her jaw, already bruised, throbbed. She winced but didn’t cry out.

  “You don’t mess with us, okay, fishy? You don’t fight us. You don’t talk unless you’re talked to. Understand?”

  “Yes,” Claudia said.

  The end of the bed creaked under his weight. He took hold of her bare foot—she’d lost her sandals during the fight—and put a pincer grip on her little toe. “I don’t like your answers, I break it. Where’d y
ou learn to fight?”

  “A defense class at the community center,” Claudia lied. She suspected the correct answer—the Corpus Christi Police Academy—might land her over the railing with a bullet in her head.

  Gar squeezed her toe. She held her breath. “Where’s your purse?”

  Oh, no. Her police department ID. She didn’t have her gun in her purse—she was on vacation and hadn’t felt the need to carry today while fishing—but her badge and ID were in the purse, in a separate wallet from her driver’s license, credit cards, and cash.

  “I don’t know. Around. I don’t think I’ve got five bucks in my wallet.”

  She heard him stand and walk around the stateroom. She couldn’t remember where she had put her purse. When Ben had given her a tour of the boat, she’d set it down along the way. They were in the larger master stateroom. Outside it was a short hall leading to a small guest stateroom with bunk beds and a head, then the small stairs leading to the main salon. At the forward end of the Jupiter, more steps leading down to the small galley, then a stateroom, also with bunk beds, a head, and a separate shower. She figured the purse was either in this stateroom or in the salon where they kept Ben.

  Drawers opened and closed; she heard an unzipping that filled her mouth with sour-tasting fear until she realized it was the zipper on her purse. Keys jingled—the keys ringed to her wallet.

  Did he see the ID? He’d kill her if he knew she was a cop, she had no doubt.

  A wallet snapped open. “Claudia Marisol Salazar of 55 Mimosa Street, apartment 23, Port Leo, Texas,” Gar said. He’d found her driver’s license. She waited for him to spot and open her police ID wallet, say, Oh, too bad, and close his fingers around her throat.

  Instead Gar pressed his thick, wide hand into the small of her back. “So this nice fancy boat, it stays at Stoney’s house?”

  “Yes.”

  “Anyone else there besides Stoney? Staff for the rich man?”

  “I think there’s a housekeeper who comes when asked. No one living there but Stoney and Ben.”

  He grabbed her little toe again, gave it a hard twist. “Lying’s gonna cost you.”

  “I’m not lying,” she said. “Look, piracy is a federal offense. Adding homicide to it isn’t going to help you.”

  He snapped the bone of her little toe and she screamed into the pillow.

  “Did I ask for a lecture from you?”

  “I’m sorry,” she managed to say, the pain sharp as a blade.

  He released the broken toe, tickled and kissed the bottom of her foot, took hold of the fourth toe. “I tell my buddy maybe I like you real good, maybe I want to spend a little quality time with you, he’ll stop laughing so much. He’ll go green with envy. He gets real jealous if I take an interest in a pretty girl like you. He’ll break every bone in your body, starting with the rest of your toes and then the fingers and working up to ribs, collarbone, major organs. And no one out here to hear you scream. So don’t lecture me.”

  Claudia bit the pillow. The stateroom door opened again.

  Danny said, “I told you to leave her alone.” Sounding a little uncertain, trying to be in command.

  “I didn’t do nothing,” Gar said.

  “Her nose is bleeding. I won’t tolerate you hurting her.”

  “I got something for you to tolerate. She’s no smarter than he is.”

  “Did he hurt you, Claudia?” Danny asked.

  Claudia hesitated for a moment before choosing her answer. “I tried to kick him and he dissuaded me.”

  “You’re not to hurt her,” Danny said, “unless she tries to escape. And by escape, I don’t mean she mouths off at you or you feel like dishing out fists. You understand?”

  “I don’t see no captain’s hat on your head,” Gar said. His weight pressed against her ribs, his erection poking into her thigh.

  “Be a good girl,” Gar whispered in her ear, “and I’ll keep myself on a leash. Be bad, and I’ll play with you. For hours on end.” Gar made a wet kiss against her ear. Then he left the room and shut the door.

  Silence. Danny must have walked out with him.

  Claudia lay in blindfolded darkness, shivering. They’re not gonna let us go. They’re not. Even if Stoney pays this ransom. They knew this is Stoney’s boat. Knew he was supposed to be out on the water today. Didn’t know he canceled. How?

  A journal. A jewel. Treasure hunters. Crazy, but she could not worry about that now. The only thing that mattered was getting help or getting the hell out of here.

  So how are you going to get you and Ben out of this?

  The kidnappers had the guns but they quarreled among themselves, improvising since Stoney wasn’t here, no backup plan in place. So they were being stupid and she would be smart.

  Claudia twisted around on the mattress and managed, by dragging her head down the bedding, to nudge the chamois-cloth blindfold a hairbreadth off her eyes. Again. Again. She could see below the blindfold’s edge. The stateroom was dark. Thin light filtered in from the oblong portholes above the bed, cut into rods of black and white by half-opened shutters. On the walls were reproductions of old sailing maps and a framed set of antique coins. Next to the closet hung another yellowed print—a portrait of a man with flowing black locks, wearing a rakish hat and a blue nautical jacket, in an arrogant stance. The print was vaguely familiar, something she’d seen in a tourist bar in Port Leo, but she couldn’t place it. She looked at the picture as a focus point, took calm, steadying breaths.

  First get loose.

  She rolled across the bed. Her hands were bound in front of her and by lying on the bed’s very edge and inching forward, she was able to reach and slide open a side table drawer. No gun, no pocketknife, nothing inside but a weathered paperback and a self-winding watch. The bookshelf, a small one, didn’t even hold a heavy bookend. A closet stood on the opposite wall but she remembered it only held clothes and hangers. She rolled up to kneel and look out the rectangular portholes above the bed; the stateroom was directly beneath the salon, where she and Ben had fished in luxury, and below the portholes was a small swim platform.

  Smash the glass in the frames, cut the ropes? They’d hear her, and she wouldn’t have time to free herself.

  If she could ease out the porthole—no guarantee she’d fit—she could wriggle onto the swim platform. And then what? More than seventy-five miles out at sea, no way to call for help, roasting in the sun until they found her. Or she fell off and drowned. Bound foot and hand as she was, she could hardly wriggle up and across the main deck without them hearing her. Maybe she could ease into the water and slice her ropes on the propellers. Yeah, just like a movie action hero. One flick of the propeller switch and she’d shred like cabbage, assuming she didn’t drown first. She remembered the silky sharks, plowing through the yellowfin school. She might be too big for the silkies but sharks didn’t measure their meals. They just ate. They would still take her, make her a five-course meal, a leisurely limb at a time.

  She listened. In the quiet roll of the waters she heard them threatening Ben, shoving him into a chair, Ben protesting. She lay very still, breathing through her mouth.

  She heard a phone ring. Ring. Click on. “Good afternoon, this is Stoney Vaughn.”

  “Good afternoon, Stoney.” Danny’s voice was creamy as butter. “This is your friend Danny, from New Orleans.”

  A pause, then Stoney, annoyed, “I told you to quit calling me, you nut.”

  “We’ve got your brother and his girlfriend.”

  Silence.

  “You weren’t on your little boat today. Were you too busy killing people, stealing, ruining lives?”

  “Stoney,” Ben said. “He says you took something of theirs?”

  Silence again. “They’re lying. Is this some sort of sick joke?”

  “The Devil’s Eye, Stoney. Give it to me—along with the journal you stole and a big freaking wad of cash, just to make up for all the grief you’ve caused me—and we’ll be even. And I’ll let Ben and his
friend go.”

  Then Stoney’s voice, not much more than a whisper, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

  Claudia struggled to a kneeling position, fumbled for the handle, started cranking open the porthole. See if you can slide through the porthole. Get up to the deck. Radio for help. Now while they’re occupied.

  Slowly, the pane of glass began to rise.

  10

  SO YOU HAVEN’T seen Jimmy since Monday?” David Power asked Linda Bird. He didn’t like to sit during questionings; he liked to stand. Pace around the room a little like a lawyer. Because the interviewee was always nervous talking to the police, guaranteed nervous, even if they were as pure and innocent as a half dozen saints, and him standing made them a little smaller. That was the goal, make them feel small and they’d crack. The Encina County sheriff, Randy Hollis, sat across from Linda Bird, doodling interlocking circles on a legal pad.

  Jimmy Bird’s wife looked up at David. Her hair was cut in a style last fashionable ten years ago, frazzled from home dye jobs. A small patch of acne scars, badly camouflaged with makeup, dimpled her cheeks. “Yes. I told you that already.”

  She wasn’t feeling small enough yet. He crossed his arms. “No need to get upset, if you don’t got anything to hide, Linda.”

  “You either believe me or you don’t,” Linda Bird said. “If he’s gonna keep asking me the same things again and again, like a parrot, I’m getting me a lawyer, because then he’s just trying to trick me.” She glared over at Sheriff Hollis.

  “I’ll call you a lawyer right now, Mrs. Bird,” Sheriff Hollis said. He had a low, pleasant voice, the kind that made for good radio. “But no one is accusing you of anything except being Jimmy’s wife, and we just want to know where he might have gone to.”

  “Jimmy mention any places he might like to go? Where’s he got family?” David asked.

  “All his family’s either in the cemetery or Tivoli, and none of ’em like him.”

  “Names of his family in Tivoli?”

  She gave them, an aunt and two male cousins.

  “Patch fired Jimmy, what, a year ago?”