“Yeah! Then I’ll E-mail to my computer at home.”
“Oh, that’s good,” said Ray. “Doc, did you hear what Zenner said? If Nick can open the locked files and transfer them to Zenner’s computer, we’ll have it all set up for Lew.”
“Just hurry, will you?” said Osborne, caving in. The stress was getting to him. I’m too old for this, he said to himself.
“Dr. Osborne?” Zenner called softly from where he was watching the road from the window in his office.
Osborne looked over quickly. “Someone coming?”
“No, but I was wondering. The work I was doing for Mr. Kendrickson … have we … did I do something wrong?”
“It’s nothing you did, Zenner,” said Osborne quietly. “But it’s looking like Hank Kendrickson may have to answer a few questions. We’ll know more later today.”
A sudden crash caused both of them to look toward the closet.
“That’s just one of the ladders,” said Zenner.
“Ray?” Osborne raised his voice. “Don’t push your luck, okay?”
All he got in return was a grunt.
Positioned at the windows in Zenner’s office, Osborne and the boy could see up the main drive and past the house where Hank lived, all the way to the highway.
“Any chance Hank could come the back way like we did?” asked Osborne.
“He never has,” said Zenner. “Only locals know that road.”
“Good. You keep an eye out,” said Osborne. “I’ll check on how Ray and Nick are doing.”
He got to the closet just in time to see Nick’s feet vanish from the top rung of the stepladder. He waited to hear Nick moving, then he followed him up the ladder.
Ray was moving quickly and easily along the wide beam to the far end of the room. Since the original structure had been a barn, a good amount of space remained even after adding a dropped ceiling. A person of average height could almost stand up beneath the roof rafters. Nick was inching along behind Ray.
As Osborne watched, Ray lifted and moved aside two ceiling panels over the conference table, then swung his feet down onto the table itself. He jumped to the floor and hurried over to the paneled wall. Pushing back the first sliding door, Ray whistled, then shoved the door back far enough so Osborne could see what the boar was so carefully guarding: Dust-free and neatly racked was an entire wall of firearms.
Ray whistled. “Very nice. Older models, expensive.” He reached out to grab one, then walked over to the window behind the conference table. The sunlight flooding into the room gleamed off the barrel of the shotgun. Tucking the stock into his shoulder, Ray pointed the gun out the window.
“Yes-s-s,” he said. “Someone has a passion for shooting.”
“Or for killing,” said Osborne under his breath.
“Hey!” Zenner shouted. “Someone’s coming! It’s the cops.”
thirty-four
“The wildness and adventure that are in fishing still recommend it to me.”
Henry David Thoreau
“Did you hear that, Ray? Lew’s here,” said Osborne. He was surprised at the sense of relief he felt. He knew he did not want the boys around Hank Kendrickson if things were going to get tense. The shotgun still in his hand, Ray started for the door.
“The Range Rover is coming, too,” shouted Zenner. “What should we do?”
“Did you hear that, Ray?” said Osborne. “Hank’s back.”
“I better hide, what do you think, Doc?” Ray shoved the gun onto the rack and slid the door shut quickly.
“Yes, hurry.”
“Shit,” said Nick. He had reached the far end of the beam and was just about to drop onto the table. He edged back. Finding a rafter running crosswise, he angled himself onto it and backed off to the right, just above the gun closet, so Ray could swing up. “Good.” Osborne nodded to Nick. Nick’s beam ran perpendicular to the one Ray needed, allowing enough space for Ray to crawl back to the closet.
Ray was already on the conference table, hoisting himself up and into the ceiling when they heard voices out front. Carefully, he set the ceiling panels back in place over the conference table and started to crawl across the center beam toward Osborne and the closet. Stepping up onto the highest rung of the ladder, Osborne leaned, teetering, to slide the ceiling panels in front of him, the ones over Hank’s desk, back into place.
“Nick, stay where you are,” he whispered. “We don’t have time to get both of you back.” Then Osborne backed down the ladder to give Ray room. The murmur of voices outside grew nearer. Just as Ray started down the stepladder, they heard the door to Hank’s office open.
“S-s-h-h.” Ray put a finger to his lips as he looked down. He stayed where he was on the ladder, at shoulder-height to the ceiling. At the foot of the ladder, Zenner crowded in behind Osborne, his eyes wide with questions.
“Sorry to walk in on you like this, Hank,” said Lew, her voice so muffled that Osborne knew Kendrickson must have insulated the wall between the offices. “You remember meeting Gina Palmer, don’t you?”
“Of course. I had hoped to give you a tour of the game preserve, ladies, but I’m afraid an unexpected business trip has come up. I have a five o’clock flight out of Rhinelander today. We’ll have to reschedule—”
“We won’t stay long,” said Lew. “Just a minor business matter to clear up, Hank. Had a call this morning from an official with the NASD. They have a few questions regarding your setup here. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. Shall I put some coffee on?”
“No, thank you,” said Lew. “I’m afraid I’m coffeed out.”
“Nothing for me either,” said Gina, her voice louder than Lew’s and quite cheery.
“In that case, won’t you have a seat?” said Hank.
He must have gestured toward the conference table, as Osborne could hear the two women walk to the far end of the room. Chairs scraped across the floor as if they were sitting down. Then Hank cleared his throat.
He had to be standing near his desk because Osborne could hear him easily when he spoke. “Take a look at this mount, won’t you? I just picked it up. This is that beautiful brown trout I showed you the other day, Lewellyn. What do you think?”
Hank’s voice still sounded as unnaturally high and reedy as it had the day before, as if he was still battling a bad cold. Then he must have walked toward the women, because the volume of his voice dropped. Osborne struggled to hear. He could barely make out what sounded like appreciative murmurs.
Suddenly Lew’s voice was a little louder. “Hank, I guess Doc Osborne told you I can’t make it tonight, but if you have to leave town anyway, that works out after all.”
Osborne couldn’t hear his response, but he must have looked surprised because Lew said, “Didn’t Doc and Ray Pradt stop by?”
“No-o, but I’ve been running errands, Lewellyn.” Again, that annoyingly familiar use of her name.
“Where are the boys, Zenner and Nick? I thought they were working here today.”
“Oh, they finished up early. It’s too nice a day. I told ‘em to go fishing.”
“Oh.” It was Lew’s turn to sound surprised.
Again the voices grew difficult to hear. Osborne couldn’t make out any words. He looked at Ray, who shook his head in frustration as the muffled conversation continued.
“I want to hear this,” whispered Ray before hoisting himself back onto the wooden beam. Osborne cringed as he watched his friend crawl toward the far end of the room. He didn’t like asking the rafters to bear the weight of both Ray and Nick. This was one time he didn’t trust Ray’s judgment. He knew Ray was no Mr. Fix-it. He might be a wizard in the woods, but he when it came to plumbing, he was lousy. As for carpentry skills? Jeez, thought Osborne, I hope he knows what he’s doing.
Osborne climbed cautiously up the ladder, the better to watch and listen. He crossed his fingers and hoped the soundproofing built into the ceiling panels worked in both directions, or that the few rustles Ray was
making would sound like squirrels on the roof. That must have been the case, because no one sitting around the conference table seemed to notice. Nor did they appear to hear the faint click of the other stepladder as Zenner opened it and set it alongside Osborne’s.
Zenner climbed up to see what was going on. He waved at Nick, who was fully extended on the beam to the right, his chin braced on his hands.
It took less than a minute for Ray to reach a position he liked. Letting himself down off his hands and knees, he stretched out his long frame and leaned to his right. Moving very slowly, very carefully, he slipped his fingers under one of the ceiling panels. The minuscule gap worked: Suddenly the voices of Hank, Lew, and Gina were easy to hear.
“It appears to be a misunderstanding with your transfer license, Hank,” Lew was saying. “You have some sort of a financial organization set up here?”
“Why … yes.” Hank cleared his throat. “We have a credit union for the game preserve.”
“I see. So you can transfer funds from accounts here to other banks? Is that what Sandy Herre arranged for you?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
“But she didn’t tell you that you need a license to transfer funds?”
“Why, no, she didn’t.” Hank sounded quite concerned. “If I do, that shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll have my attorney take care of it immediately. Lewellyn, do you mind if I ask what Miss Palmer’s interest is in all this?” His supercilious tone made it obvious he felt he was being put in an embarrassing position in front of a stranger. The hint was clear: time to drop the subject.
“Oh, don’t mind me,” said Gina, very cheerfully. “I’m just along for the ride. I made an offer on some property this morning, and Chief Ferris thought I might enjoy seeing more of the lake country.”
“One last question, Hank, and we’ll get out of your hair,” said Lew genially. “The NASD did ask me to clarify exactly why you have been making international money transfers, and I will need a record of your accounts. I told them I was sure you wouldn’t mind.”
“Of course not. I can drop that off on my way to the airport later,” said Hank. Again, the clearing of the throat. “I’m opening a hunting lodge in Saskatchewan. The transfers are to my subcontractors on the building we have under way up there. I’ll have all their names and account numbers for you but, Lewellyn, I’m quite concerned this go through the way I’ve arranged. If I don’t pay these fellows on schedule, they will hold up construction. We have a bit of a crisis up there right now, which is why I have to make this last-minute trip.”
“I can’t imagine any problem,” said Lew. Osborne heard the sound of chairs scraping again. Lew and Gina must have stood up to leave.
“Oh, golly, I do have one more question, Hank.” Lew’s voice was so friendly. Osborne had heard her sound that way only once before, when he watched her play poker one night after fishing. They had stopped in at the resort down the road from Osborne’s place for a fishing report and been talked into playing a few hands. He had been quite impressed: Lew bluffed as well as she cast.
“Gina is helping me update our gun registrations. We learned that young Zenner has been making quite a few purchases of firearms at estate sales and antique stores. He has been using his own name and driver’s license number on all except for his very first one. He bought that gun using his name but your driver’s license. Just want to alert you.”
“That little sneak,” said Hank. “That kid’s been giving me a lot of trouble lately. I’ve been looking for a reason to fire him. Kid’s trouble, gives me the creeps.”
“That’s not the only problem,” piped up Gina. “When I checked the DOT database for your license number, the photo that came up belongs to a man who’s been dead five years. Doesn’t resemble you in the least.”
“You’re not serious,” said Hank. “That’s quite a screw-up.”
“We thought so. Do you have your passport handy?” said Lew. “I can use that to correct the records this afternoon.”
Hank cleared his throat again. “Certainly. You know, Lewellyn, I moved up here from another state, so I’m not surprised you might have a Wisconsin resident with the same name. I’ll drop off a photocopy this afternoon with everything else you need.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he checked his watch, “my business partners are due here in less than an hour, or I would get everything you need right this minute. But it’s up at the house, and I’ll have to do a little digging. Say, before you two leave, what do you think of this spot for hanging my new mount?”
Footsteps indicated Hank had walked over to the wall near the door to the outdoors. Ray looked back at Osborne with a grim smile. If ever someone was trying to change the subject …
Lew and Gina could be heard walking toward the door.
“That looks good, Hank,” Lew said.
“Nice seeing you again, Hank,” said Gina, “but … do you know … something about you is so familiar. I told the Chief yesterday, I’m just sure we’ve met before.”
“I don’t think so,” said Hank. “But I certainly hope we do so again.”
“Oh gosh, Hank, I almost forgot to mention,” said Lew, “on those transfers of yours? You must be doing a heck of a construction project, because NASD put a stop on one for sixteen million dollars. The clearing broker in Kansas City canceled it early this morning, just so you know.”
“What …” Hank’s voice dropped to its natural register. “What are you saying?”
“Don’t get excited. I assured them you would be happy to straighten this out.”
“Why did they stop my transfer?” asked Hank.
“They’re confused by some stock transactions issuing from an electronic address identical to the one you use for your money transfers. I believe it’s a tax question. You can take it up with them when you’re back in town.”
“Lewellyn, investing in the stock market is a very sophisticated enterprise.” Hank sounded like he was disciplining a child. Osborne smirked. Good. Now Lew would get a good dose of what it was he and Ray despised about the man. “That group—the NASS-whatevers—they must have some neophyte looking at this, because my company is fully authorized—”
Hank stopped suddenly. A long silence. When he spoke again, his voice was quite different: soft, measured.
“Gina … no, don’t look away.” He cleared his throat. “I saw that look on your face. You know, don’t you.” He wasn’t asking a question.
“Yes, Michael I know,” said Gina, her voice so firm it seemed to boom through the room. “You can spend a fortune on plastic surgery, but you can’t change your speech patterns. Clear your throat again, won’t you? It is music to my ears, you son of a bitch.
“I’ve got you cold, Winston. You tried to execute a half-million-dollar stock trade and money transfer out of Ashley Olson’s brokerage account three days ago. NASD traced it for me this morning.”
Silence.
“Hank,” said Lew, her voice brisk, “I’ll give you a minute to cancel your flight reservations if you wish. You’re coming with us.”
Ray raised one hand as if to signal to Osborne. Maybe it was the movement that shifted his weight or maybe it was just destiny, but even as he turned to look at Osborne, Ray began to slide. The beam beneath him sagged, tipping him sideways. Down he went through the ceiling. Down and down.
thirty-five
“The outdoor life pleased these old men because they believed any properly obsessed fly-fisherman carried rivers and trout inside him.”
Harry Middleton
Osborne held his breath as he listened. A long, long moment he could never reverse. He heard a thud, followed by the sound of papers skittering off the tabletop, the slam of a door.
Then … silence. Dear God. Every nerve ending in Osborne’s body hummed with dread. He waited for some sound of life. How badly was Ray hurt? How could life turn so bad so fast?
“Always making an entrance, aren’t you, Ray.” He heard Lew’s voice from a distanc
e. She wasn’t being funny. “Ray?” she said. No answer. “Ray …” Silence.
Osborne went still, as still as he had one cold dawn in his deer stand when he thought he heard a buck but, looking around, had stared straight into the edgy, challenging eyes of a timber wolf. The stalker suddenly stalked.
He did now as he had done that morning: stayed absolutely still, only his eyes moving. As he watched, a few more tiles loosened and dropped. The hole in the ceiling had widened enough for him to have a clear view of the area below.
A slight movement from Nick caused him to glance over to where the boy was clutching the narrow rafter beneath him, his face tense. The beam on which he was balanced looked steady enough, perhaps because it was perpendicular to the one Ray had been on and had support from another crossbeam. Osborne motioned for him to stay right where he was. He mustered a look of authority for his own face, hoping it would calm the boy.
Looking down, he saw Lew back up to stand behind the conference table. The room was remarkably quiet. She nodded to someone out of his view, said nothing, then raised her right hand to lay her nine-millimeter SIG Saur down onto the table, several feet from where Ray’s head had struck a stack of computer printouts. Osborne did not like the angle between his head and his shoulders. Gina joined Lew, her hands held high.
Osborne realized that the fall must have bought Hank the few precious seconds he needed to slam open one of the sliding doors and grab a gun. No wonder Lew and Gina’s gestures were so slow and deliberate. Based on Zenner’s report that Hank enjoyed firing at deer from his office window, Osborne figured he had a rifle, not a shotgun. Not that it would make a difference at close range.
Hank walked into view, the rifle in his arms leveled at the two women. Keeping his eyes on Gina and Lew, he leaned cautiously over Ray’s still form. He paused to make certain Ray was unconscious, then shoved hard, knocking his prone body onto the floor.
“No! Don’t do that!” cried Osborne. “You’ll break his neck,” he added lamely.
Keeping his gun pointed at Lew and Gina, Hank tipped his head slightly to look up into the hole in the ceiling. “Who the hell?”
Dead Water Page 24
