“Goddamnit.” He took two quick, lurching steps toward me, shoulders bunched, hands clenching and unclenching. “Don’t fuck with me,” he said.
“Chris!” Reeny said.
He looked down at her. “Either of you,” he added.
“We’re not fucking with you,” I said. “We don’t have them. Settle down. Have a drink. Vodka, right?” I moved toward the liquor cabinet.
He jumped to intercept me, arms flailing. For a moment, I thought he was going to hit me. I took a step backwards.
“Okay, no drink,” I said.
“Daddy,” Hilly said, voice full of fear.
“It’s okay, honey,” I said. “Mr. Hastings is leaving.”
“Don’t give me that shit,” he shouted. “I know Zim stashed the diamonds here somewhere. I’ll find them if I have to tear this place apart.” He began opening cabinet doors and drawers, pawing through the contents.
“Knock yourself out,” I said. I reached down, took Reeny’s hand, and hauled her to her feet. “Let me know when you’re done.” I herded Reeny and Hilly toward the door.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Hasting growled, darting to cut off our escape. I thought about slugging him, then I remembered he had an nth degree black belt. Hitting him no longer seemed like such a great idea.
“Sit down,” he commanded, waving toward the living room. “Sit!” he shouted again when we didn’t move fast enough for him.
“For god’s sake, Chris,” Reeny said. “What’s got into you?”
“Shut up!” he yelled. “Sit down. You!” He pointed at Hilly. I started to get up, but he redirected his finger at me. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt her.” To Hilly: “Find something to tie them up with.”
“Fuck you, asshole,” she said. “Find it yourself.”
That’s my girl, I thought.
Hastings laughed, but the sound had a hysterical edge. He was very close to losing it. “You’re his kid, all right,” he said. “Maybe you’re no smarter than he is, but you’ve sure got more guts. Never mind. You can all help me look for the diamonds.”
Reeny leapt to her feet. “Goddamnit, Chris,” she said furiously. “Stop behaving like such a bloody fool.”
He moved toward her, fists bunched, face livid with fury. I found myself on my feet, standing between Reeny and him, with no memory of how I came to be in such a ridiculous situation. Hilly said, “Oh,” and took a step forward. I held up my hand. She stopped. I looked Hastings in the eye. Was it my imagination or did he look as scared as I felt? Not even close, but he didn’t seem quite so sure of himself.
He stared at me, face red, fists cocked, while my heart hammered and my stomach felt as though it were digesting itself. I wondered if I still knew how to fight, if I ever knew how to fight in the first place, not that I’d have much of a chance against someone with his level of martial arts training.
I flinched as he suddenly threw up his arms and yelled, “Fuck!” so loud the liquor bottles on the sideboard rattled. He spun in a tight little circle, shouting. “Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!” He threw himself onto the sofa, then bounced right back up again. “Fuck!”
“We get it,” Hilly said.
He stared at her, then smiled shakily at me, shook his head, and said, “Sorry about that, but I am having one fucking awful shitty week.”
“It’s goin’ t’ get worse,” said a rough, familiar voice from the front hall.
Carl Yeager and the Missus stepped into the living room.
chapter eighteen
Yeager’s bald head glistened and his eyes were as cold and lifeless as marbles. Jackie Yeager stood beside and slightly behind him, an inch or two taller, but most of it teased henna hair. I was going to have to upgrade the locks, I thought. And so much for the extra security Reeny had mentioned.
“Carl, you bastard,” Chris Hastings said. “You burned my boat.”
“That boat was a piece of shit,” Yeager said. “What’d your girlfriend call them? Shipworms? It was rotten with ’em. Wouldn’t’ve made it past Seattle, let alone all the way to Panama.”
“There was nothing wrong with that boat,” Hastings said. “And you know it. What did you do, Carl? Set fire to her trying to enlarge the compartments in the bilge?”
“It don’t matter what I did. I want my seventy-five grand back.”
“You see,” Hastings went on, ignoring Yeager. “Carl had a plan to sail Pendragon to Colombia. He was going to fill the hidden compartments with coke, then sail back to Galveston, where he and Jackie run a two-bit fleabag marina and charter company. It wasn’t a bad plan, actually. And the compartments I’d fitted into the bilge are virtually impossible to detect. Trouble is, these two idiots are just too damned stupid and greedy for their own good. A hundred kilos a trip wasn’t enough for you, Carl?”
“We want our money back,” Jackie Yeager said over her husband’s shoulder.
Hastings shrugged. “I don’t have it.”
“Then you’d better get it,” Carl said menacingly.
I said, “Look, why don’t you three take this somewhere else.”
“You and I still have some unfinished business,” Hastings said.
“No, we don’t,” I said.
“What kind o’ business?” Carl Yeager wanted to know.
“I’m going back to work,” Reeny said. “That is, if I still have a job.” She headed toward the door.
Yeager grabbed her arm. “Not so fast, space girl.” She struggled. He just grinned, hand clamped onto her arm like a vice. “What kind o’ action y’all got going?” He thrust Reeny back into the living room.
Was Hastings crazy enough to tell Carl Yeager about the diamonds? I wondered. If Yeager suspected there was a million dollars’ worth of diamonds hidden in my house, I doubted anything would stop him from stripping the place to the waterline in search of them.
“The guy that died on McCall’s roof a couple of weeks ago,” Hastings began.
Oh-oh.
“What guy?” Yeager asked.
“He stashed a package of uncut diamonds in McCall’s house,” Hastings finished.
“Diamonds!” I said, with as much incredulity as I could muster. “What diamonds? Don’t listen to him, Carl. He’s crazy. Nuts. Out of his mind.” That part was certainly true. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Diamonds?” Jackie Yeager said, licking her lips.
“There are no diamonds,” I insisted. “Damnit, Chris, where’d you get an idea like that, anyway? You’ve been smoking too much of that dope you used to smuggle in your boat.”
“Diamonds, huh?” Yeager said, ignoring me. “I’d like a piece o’ that action.”
“Help me find them,” Hastings said, “and you’ll get back your seventy-five grand and then some.”
“There are no damned diamonds,” I said, getting a little wild. “Look, all of you,” I said. “Get out of my house before I call the police.”
“I don’t think so,” Yeager said. He glared at me. “Is he right about the diamonds?”
“No,” I said. “He’s nuts.”
“Carl,” Hastings said. “Trust me. They’re here, either still where Zim hid them or these two — ” He indicated Reeny and me. “ — found them.”
“Did you?” Yeager asked.
“No. There’s nothing to find.”
“How do I know yer not lyin’?”
“How do you know he’s not?” I said, pointing at Hastings.
“Yah, you got a point there. ’Cept the way I see it, what do I got to lose believin’ him instead o’ you?” He looked at Hilly, who stood pale and trembling beside me. “If you don’t want something bad to happen to your pretty little girl here, tell us where them diamonds are.”
“I don’t have any fucking diamonds!” I shouted.
Jackie Yeager said, “Carl, she’s just a little kid. Maybe he’s telling the truth.”
“Right,” Carl Yeager said savagely. “And maybe asparagus is gonna sprout outa yer
snatch.”
Jackie glared at her husband.
“He’s telling the truth,” Reeny said suddenly. “He doesn’t have them. I do. I found them.”
Hastings gaped at her.
“That’s more like it,” Yeager said. “Where are they?”
“Not here,” she said. “I’ll take you to them. But not now. I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Nice try, tits,” Yeager said. “But I ain’t that dumb.” He thought about it for a moment, the strain plainly evident on his face, then said, “Y’ain’t got ’em, do you? Yah. Thought so.” He thought some more. Then he said, “This ain’t gettin’ us nowhere. How much is these stones worth, anyway?”
I silently beseeched whatever dollar-store deity that might be listening, and give a damn about the habits of one particular species of primate or another, that Hastings wouldn’t tell Carl the truth. Things were bad enough without triggering Yeager’s rampant greed.
“Around three hundred grand,” Hastings said. Less than a third of what Evans had told me they were worth, but a lot of money nonetheless. Carl Yeager evidently agreed.
“Holy fuck,” he said reverently. Jackie Yeager grew pale around the eyes and for a moment I thought she might faint.
“More than enough to go around,” Hastings added. He looked at Reeny. “You don’t have them, do you?”
“No,” she said weakly.
He looked at me.
“Me either,” I said.
“He’s lyin’,” Carl Yeager said hopefully.
“I don’t think so,” Hastings said.
Yeager looked around. “So they’re still here someplace. Where?”
I sighed. We were right back to where we’d started. I took Hilly’s hand, held my other hand out to Reeny. “Let me know when you’re done searching,” I said. Reeny took my hand. “Try not to sink the place.” We started toward the door.
“Now just a gawdamn minute,” Carl Yeager said.
I tightened my grip on Reeny and Hilly and kept walking.
“Stop!” Yeager shouted, bounding into the hall to cut off our escape.
Reeny let go of my hand and threw a nice hip block that sent Yeager stumbling back into the living room. I let go of Hilly’s hand and opened the door.
“Good evening,” Mr. Evans said. Mr. Rogers stood beside him. Obviously, whatever security there was had broken down completely. “May we come in?” Evans asked.
“Sure,” I said. “Why not? We were just leaving.”
“Who the fuck’re you?” Carl Yeager asked, coming back into the hall, Jackie and Chris Hastings close on his heels.
“My name is Evans,” Mr. Evans replied. “And this is my associate, Mr. Rogers. Who might you be?”
“I might be the Pope,” Yeager growled. “But I ain’t.”
“Mr. Evans,” I said. “Meet Carl Yeager. And the lady is his wife, Jackie. They’re friends of Mr. Hastings, with whom I believe you are already acquainted. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we were just on our way out. Enjoy yourselves. Try not to get too much blood on the carpets.”
Mr. Rogers’ massive form filled the doorway, blocking our escape. I looked pointedly at Mr. Evans.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I must insist that you do not leave. Please.” He gestured toward the living room. “I have a proposal that perhaps will be of interest to you. All of you.”
Mr. Rogers stepped into the house, an irresistible force before which we could but retreat. He closed the door, stood with his back against it, arms folded across his wide chest. There was no way we were going to get by him, so we all returned to the living room.
“What’s this proposition?” Carl Yeager asked.
“As I told Mr. McCall the other evening,” Evans said, “we have been engaged by the Sierra Leone Diamond Mining Company to recover their property. Our employers are prepared to pay a substantial finder’s fee for their return.”
“How substantial a finder’s fee?” Yeager asked.
“The amount I mentioned to Mr. McCall was five percent.”
Yeager’s eyes unfocused momentarily as he tried to work it out. Jackie leaned close and whispered into his ear. He snorted derisively. “That’s only fifteen grand.”
“In point of fact,” Mr. Evans said, “five percent of a million dollars is fifty thousand dollars.”
“A million,” Yeager croaked. He glared at Hastings. “You son of a bitch. You said they was worth only three hunnerd grand.”
But Hastings looked as surprised as Yeager. “Zim told me he had only six hundred and fifty carats.”
Evans said, “The man you know as Zim, Conrad Eberhardt, stole a fraction more than two thousand carats. Perhaps he had other buyers you are not aware of.”
Such as Monica Hollander, I thought, whatever her real name was.
“An’ five percent of a million is fifty grand?” Yeager said. “Big deal. Whyn’t you take yer proposition somewheres else.”
“Under the circumstances,” Mr. Evans said, “I am certain our employers would be prepared to increase the finder’s fee to, say, ten percent.”
“That’s still only a hunnerd grand,” Yeager said, evidently better with round numbers.
“Which is as much as you are likely to realize for the rough in New York or Bombay.” He looked at Hastings. “Your original plan was to pass them off in small lots as Canadian diamonds, was it not? I’m afraid that is no longer an option. The Canadian sorting facilities in Vancouver, Toronto, and Yellowknife have been notified and will by now have tightened their security. The company’s experts tell me that it is not particularly difficult to distinguish rough from different parts of the world with a simple visual examination. So your only alternative now is to dispose of them on the black market, where they would likely fetch no more than ten percent of their true value, particularly since you cannot provide a Kimberly Process document certifying that they are not conflict diamonds.”
“More like twenty to twenty-five percent,” Hastings said.
“Perhaps,” Evans said with a nod, acknowledging that Hastings seemed to have done his homework.
Yeager said, “Would yer bosses be willing to go as high as twenty-five percent?”
Mr. Evans looked unhappy. “I am not authorized to go any higher than fifteen percent.”
“Then maybe you should get authorized,” Yeager growled.
Mr. Evans shook his head and said, “I’m sorry, no. Divided three ways, however, fifteen percent is still fifty thousand dollars each. Assuming we recover the full two thousand carats. That is, if Mr. McCall is prepared to share the finder’s fee with you and Mr. Hastings. He is the one technically in possession of the diamonds, after all.”
“The way I figure it,” Yeager said, “McCall should get squat. It ain’t like he’s been very co-operative, after all. An’ Hastings, he still owes me for that piece of crap boat he sold me.”
Mr. Evans shrugged his bony shoulders. “That is something you will have to work out among yourselves.”
“Um, excuse me,” I said. All eyes turned in my direction. “This is all quite interesting, but you’re forgetting one not-so-minor detail.”
“Yes?” Mr. Evans said.
“The diamonds aren’t here.”
“Ah,” Mr. Evans said.
“They’re here someplace,” Yeager said.
“That may be so,” Mr. Evans agreed. “But until you find them, they are worth nothing to any of you.”
“We’ll find ’em if we have to take this dump apart board by board.”
“And if they aren’t here,” I said. “Are you going to put my house back together?”
“The hell with your gawdamn house,” Yeager said.
“I believe we can search for the diamonds without destroying Mr. McCall’s home,” Mr. Evans said.
“And the hell with yer proposition too. Go tell your bosses it’s gonna cost ’em half — five hunnerd K — to get their precious diamonds back.”
“Out of the question,” Mr. Ev
ans said. “Given the circumstances, however, our employers might be persuaded to — ” He was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Don’t answer it,” Yeager whispered fiercely.
Reeny said, “It’s probably someone from the studio looking for me.”
Whoever it was knocked again, harder, and called, “Tom, are you in there? It’s Linda.”
“Mom,” Hilly called.
The door rattled. “Tom, open the door.”
“Don’t answer it,” Yeager hissed again.
“It’s my ex-wife,” I said. “She knows I’m home. She won’t go away.”
“What does she want?” Mr. Evans asked.
“She’s come to take my daughter back to their hotel.”
“Shit,” Yeager said.
“Let my daughter go with her,” I said hopefully.
“Oh, yeah, right,” Yeager said with a contemptuous sneer. “And what’ll the kid do as soon as she’s out of here? Call the cops, that’s what.”
“I’m afraid the gentleman is right,” Mr. Evans said. Linda knocked again. “Mr. Rogers,” Mr. Evans said, “kindly invite the lady to join us.”
Boy, are you guys in trouble now, I thought, as Mr. Rogers went to answer the door.
I heard the rattle of the door lock, then Linda’s stri-dent voice. “Who the hell are you?” she demanded. “Where’s my daughter? Tom. Hey, let go of me. Tom!”
There was a crash and the sound of splintering wood, followed by a muffled shriek from Linda. There was another shout, a grunt, and a heavy thud, such as a falling body would make.
“Mom!” Hilly cried.
“Hilly!” Linda called. She came hurtling into the room, as if propelled by some invisible force. Unable to keep her feet under her, she staggered, colliding with Jackie Yeager, who, perhaps letting her better side show, tried to catch Linda to prevent her from falling, not altogether successfully. Hilly rushed to her mother and helped her to feet. Jackie picked up Linda’s glasses and handed them to her.
Maggie’s boyfriend George came into the room, breathing a little hard. “Mind if I join the party?” he said.
“Shit,” swore Carl Yeager. He took a couple of steps toward George.
“Just hold it right there, baldy,” George said, and pointed a wicked-looking automatic pistol at Yeager’s face, all the nastier looking for the stubby tube of the silencer attached to the muzzle.
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