by Bill Eidson
Geoff interjected, “Just so we get this straight, she makes this movie, it’s ten thousand dollars and all her doctor bills, right? That’s the deal.”
Strike swallowed his quick grin, and said to her, “That’s it, baby. Good deal, considering you cut the man.” Strike exchanged a glance with Geoff and the two of them smiled.
Carly thought she might go insane as they tied the Mako to the stern of the big yacht.
How could she have believed Geoff?
She saw that smile between him and Strike. If he could put Lisa down into that car to drown, why should Carly trust his word to her?
Because he loves me, she thought. Stupid girl.
She looked at her hands, and then, with a certain reverence touched her arm, feeling the smoothness of her skin, flexing the healthy muscle and bone underneath. She tuned in to her body, appreciating it as hers; appreciating her own beauty.
She felt another flash of rage at Geoff as she touched the scar on her face. How could he bring her face-to-face with Raul? Face-to-face with a man who wanted to hurt her so he could get his rocks off on some goddamn video.
Geoff will ditch me, she thought. For a second, she panicked and cast about for some way to escape. Strike put the keys to the Mako in his jeans pocket as he knocked on the cabin door. She wished desperately for her razor.
Geoff stepped in front of her and winked. She bore down on the panic, forced herself to swallow it. She searched his eyes, his body, looking for evidence to assure herself that he would come through. She saw the belt buckle and remembered Junior. She closed her eyes then, and thought about Geoff telling her that he loved her and that he would take her away. She breathed deeply, and she wanted him to kiss her and whisper that everything was all right. But when she opened her eyes, he had moved away.
She checked her watch. They had wasted almost ten minutes getting out to the yacht. It was too dark to see anything, the clouds obscured the moon. She turned and looked out into the darkness, listening for the sound of the motorboat, for Steve.
Maybe Lisa’s been stood up, too. The thought gave her no comfort.
“Carly, Carly,” Raul’s voice said. “I’m so glad you can join me and agreed to be in my little show.”
She forced herself to stare at him, show him that she wasn’t afraid, even though her insides were curdling. Raul stood there, his arms wide open, making like he was a big movie producer. Laughing at himself. Big soft tub of guts. She knew what he was capable of; knew what he could do to her because of his money and the men surrounding him. But she made herself see them alone in an alley, and she wished again for her razor. Her heart was pounding and her mouth tasted bitter. She couldn’t trust her voice to be steady so she didn’t answer.
“I’m anxious to get started,” he said, and waved her into the cabin.
Geoff jerked his head toward the cabinway, a small smile on his face that she couldn’t read. Nevertheless, she walked into the cabin, her legs stiff and numb.
Raul frowned. “What happened to her face?”
Strike said, “Dude here says she killed her man, Jammer. Got himself a cut in before he went down. I say we teach her, right?”
“Did you take away her razor?” Raul asked mildly.
“Checked good, man. She clean.”
“I should’ve cut your throat,” Carly said. Her voice sounded better than she thought it would. Clear, unafraid.
Raul chuckled. “Oh, she’s terrifying. I’m going to title this one Pimp’s Revenge.”
Strike grinned, his eyes twinkling with good humor. “Jammer’ll like that, man, sitting up in pimp heaven.”
Raul snapped on bright lights, and Carly shuddered seeing the video camera on a tripod. The cabin had been rearranged to be dominated by a single bed. The bed and floors were covered loosely with red sheets and she saw a stack of towels on the counter. Beside the bed was an open footlocker filled with leather paraphernalia, gleaming with metal studs.
Carly’s breath was rushing in and out.
Raul stepped closer to her. He drew back his sleeve to reveal the ugly scar and then laid it against the scar on her face softly. The intimacy of it made her cry out involuntarily and she backed away. “We’re going to get a lot closer than that, Carly,” he whispered. “I’ll be inside you.”
“She thinks she’s gonna get ten K and all her doctor bills paid,” Strike said.
“That right?” Raul grinned over at Geoff. “I wondered how you got her here without handcuffs.”
Geoff put the suitcase of money on the bed. “This is the balance,” he said, quietly. “Why don’t you just take it and call it quits with Carly?”
She looked over at him. That’s it? She wanted to scream.
Both Raul and Strike laughed.
Raul said, “I’ve got another idea. Why don’t I work on her with a sharp knife for a few hours? Then have the boys drop her in the ocean with lead weights once I get bored. How about that idea? Only question is whether or not you join her.”
Carly tried desperately to read Geoff’s eyes and face, but all she saw was a sort of pleasant blankness. He didn’t even look at her.
The bastards planned to kill her.
And Geoff was doing nothing. In spite of herself, her breath began to rush, and her vision blurred. She wiped away the tears furiously.
Raul stared at Geoff contemptuously, then said to Strike, “Call Lee and have him take this idiot to the house. I’ll decide what to do with him after.”
“Hey, it only seemed right to make the offer,” Geoff said defensively. “Keep that fat bastard away from me.”
The weakness in his voice was something Carly had never heard before. She still couldn’t read him; couldn’t tell if he was acting or not. Either way, she figured she was on her own. If only she had something. Carly’s eyes flickered across the cabin, the galley, the desk. Not even a fork. She remembered Junior and stepped closer to Geoff, but he backed away and said, without looking at her, “Hey, I’m sorry, honey.”
She stared at him, not able to stop herself. Trying to read if she had been truly tricked by a man for the final time.
She couldn’t tell.
Strike yelled for Lee again, and then pulled a big aluminum case from a side locker and began to put Geoff’s money in. Carly saw a huge stack in there, probably as much as Geoff thought there was. She told herself he really wanted it. She told herself he would do something for it, if not for her.
Lee came into the cabin, his massive frame filling the doorway.
Strike jerked his head at Geoff. “This guy’s calling you a fat bastard. How you like that, man?”
Lee walked up to Geoff and shoved him against the wall. “Tough guy.” He looked over at Carly and whistled. “You shoulda heard him watching out for your ass, girl, until Raul burned him. Took awhile, but your man give you up like a bad itch.”
Outside, the sound of a motor started, close by.
Lee cocked his head to one side, listening. And then it looked like Geoff had punched him, a fast blow to his Adam’s apple.
The man went, “Huh!” like he was surprised.
And coughed blood.
Raul turned, his expression irritated, and Strike said, “What?” and then suddenly reached under his shirt.
Lee dropped to the floor, and Geoff yanked the little knife from his throat. Geoff sprang away from the wall toward Strike.
Carly grabbed at Strike’s hand as he pulled out a small gun and then Geoff was on him. Geoff punched the little blade into the guy’s chest, two, three times, as she held Strike’s arm off to the side. The gun cracked twice, bullets flying past her ear.
The kid fell down, clutching himself. There was a click behind them and Geoff whirled as Raul calmly aimed a big revolver.
Carly knew it was over. She saw Raul’s finger tighten on the trigger even as she saw that Geoff was already moving. He was going to kick Raul’s hand. He’s too late, she thought,
That’s when the boat exploded.
She
was thrown back against the galley counter. The door closing off the bow flew across the cabin and hit Raul.
It knocked him off his feet and the gun fell to the cabin floor. He scrambled for it, but she got to it first.
Immediately afterward, as she climbed into the cockpit, the boat sinking bow first, she couldn’t remember if she had actually said it or if she had just thought it.
But then, she must have. Because Geoff had the big case in his hand and he was laughing and kissing her and saying, “I can’t believe you!”
So she must have said it. “I’m calling this one Hooker’s Revenge.”
Right before shooting Raul in the balls.
Geoff had taken the gun from her and put another bullet into Raul’s forehead to make him shut up.
The gun flash, the blood, the screaming … all of it made her feel dazed and breathless. Geoff was half holding her up.
But she was certain she’d said the words.
Certain.
Chapter 38
Geoff thought his heart might burst, he was so proud of Carly. Then he remembered Steve and sobered immediately.
The cockpit lights were still shining, showing the big Blue Water floating alongside. Beyond it, the Mako was floating away, the line free.
Steve wasn’t in either boat.
Carly grasped Geoff as the White Angel’s bow sank even deeper.
“Where?” she said, and Geoff laid the gun she had used on Raul alongside his leg. He whirled when he heard a noise just to his left.
Nothing.
Then there was the cold touch on the back of Geoff’s head and Steve said, “Drop it.”
“You know that shit won’t work with me,” Geoff said.
“Good. Because I don’t need you now that I’ve got her.” Geoff heard Steve cock his gun.
Geoff hesitated, but then let the gun and money fall to the cockpit sole. Suddenly, the boat squealed as if in pain, the hull settling as water began to rush over the bow. Geoff reacted instantly and swung his arm back to knock Steve’s gun off his head. He then did the opposite of what Steve—or anyone—would have expected.
Geoff threw himself back into the sinking boat.
“Geoff!” Carly screamed.
Steve stood in the cabinway and fired twice. Geoff dove into the chest-deep water and hid behind Strike’s floating body. He saw Carly come up behind Steve and try to wrestle the gun away. Steve shoved her away.
“Geoff!” she screamed. “Get out, it’s sinking!”
Steve dragged her away.
Geoff waited, listening to her yell for him until it sounded as if they were far away. He remembered the Mako was still within swimming distance. The bow of the yacht sank deeper, and already the water was pouring in from the open portholes as if shot from a firehose. The hull screeched again as the forward bulwark shifted under the press of water.
Geoff rolled Strike onto his back and found the Mako’s keys. He thrashed his way up the steep incline to the cabin door—just as the cockpit rail slipped below the surface. A solid wall of black water roared into the cabin, sweeping him in deeper. The last of the lights shorted out and the White Angel went down in darkness.
The girl tried to scramble off the dive boat and go back for Geoff.
“No!” she screamed, as Steve held onto her. She hit him with her elbows and fists, crying, “Geoff, oh my God, Geoff, get out!”
Once the yacht went under, Steve waited until she sagged against the rail, crying, before he let her go.
Steve felt some sympathy, but only a little.
He remembered her holding a rifle on Lisa all too easily. He said, “Tell me where she is.”
Carly stared at the black water. “I can’t believe it.” She turned to Steve, her cheeks wet with tears. “He did protect me.”
“Where is she?” Steve fought to keep his voice calm.
Carly didn’t seem to hear him. She turned back to the water.
Steve spun her around. “What’s he got set up, damn it? Did he put her in a box again?”
She seemed to really see Steve for the first time. The hurt, bewildered look on her face turned hard. “You shot at him. You must have hit him.”
“Where is she?” Steve shook the girl.
“She’s drowning!” the girl spat back. She pointed to the water. “She’s under there, just like him.”
Steve felt a hand squeeze his heart, but kept his voice calm. “You say she is. Meaning she’s still alive.”
The girl shrugged.
“Is she?”
Steve drew his hand back—and then stopped. He cupped her chin so that she had to look at him. Even in the feeble glow of the instrument lights, he could see the hurt in her eyes. “Look,” he said, gently. “You know how you feel about Geoff, how you’re missing him? It’s been like that in my head for a week now. I’m just about crazy with it. Tell me where she is or I’ll hit you and I’ll keep hitting you until you do. I’d rather not. I would really rather not. But think how you’re feeling, and you know I will.”
The girl stared at him and then pulled herself away. She looked at her watch and said, “She’s got a little more than a half hour left. Then she runs out of air. He put them in a car and sank them in the water with two scuba tanks for each.”
“Each of them?”
“Her and that cop, Lazar.”
“He found you?” Steve’s mind raced, wondering how Lazar had found them.
“Came snooping around,” she said. “Snooping cop is going to get it too.”
“Where?”
She crossed her arms. “I think I’ll just wait.”
“How deep?”
“What?”
“How deep was the water?”
She smiled. “I don’t know.”
He hit her then, hard. “How deep?”
The blow surprised her. “Thirty … Geoff said it was about thirty feet deep.”
“And how long have they been down?”
“Fifty minutes.”
An hour and a half for two tanks at thirty feet sounded about right. Maybe worth a little more. “Where are they?”
“Fuck you.”
He raised his hand again and she stared back defiantly. “Go ahead. I’ve been hit before.”
Steve hesitated for a moment, then went to the bow locker and came back with the aluminum case. It looked much like the case that had held Raul’s money. He grabbed Carly’s wrist and before she could yank it away, he snapped a handcuff bracelet on her. The other end was attached to the case handle. Another set dangled along the case.
“What the hell?”
She tugged at the case and it banged against her leg.
Steve took a key from a Velcro pouch on his wetsuit and turned a lock on the case. Suddenly a red digital readout was visible just under the handle; the number forty-five glowed.
“What’s this?” she snapped.
“I’d intended it for you and Geoff. I figured if Geoff had a time limit on the two of you, he would take me to Lisa. You were important to him.”
Her chin lifted. “He said that?”
“In so many words,” Steve said, realizing it all came down to this. “He might have put you at risk, but he definitely did not intend for you to die.” Steve put the key into his pocket. “Now you get to make that decision by yourself.”
“Or what?” She stared at the readout. Forty-four minutes.
He waited until she looked up, and then he nodded to where the White Angel had been. “Or an explosive charge as big as that removes you from the planet.”
Chapter 39
The batteries on the dive light were weakening, but Lazar could still read the watch easily enough. He figured the air would last only a few more minutes.
Maybe not even that. They had both been breathing pretty hard.
He thought about what it had been like when the first tank went dry. Thought about how it became hard to draw a breath. How his cheeks had pressed against his side teeth—and then the air stopped al
together. What a blessed relief it had been to put the other mouthpiece in and taste the easy rush of fresh air.
He thought about not having that sweet rush, what the minute or two afterward would be like.
Beside him, Lisa was searching hard, so he tried again, straining his arms at the length of the line so he could run his fingers along the edge of the seat and try to reach down between the gap, between it and the armrest. Lazar bit down hard at the exquisite pain of forcing the torn muscles in his shoulder to work, of forcing his freshly sliced right hand to feel for the very blade that had cut him.
Nothing. The mask gave him tunnel vision and from where he sat, he couldn’t see if the razor was inches away or on the other side of the car. Either way, it was beyond his restraining lines. He relaxed, and the cold water overwhelmed him suddenly.
God, he was tired.
When they had first gone down, the saltwater in his wounds had made him scream some of his precious air away. But now he was so exhausted, it almost didn’t matter. He thought about Charlotte some more, wondering how long it would take for her to find out what had happened to him.
A week? A month? Maybe never.
He imagined her crying. But, the truth was, he could just as easily imagine her being relieved that she had been separated from him for a year before he was found dead.
Then he caught himself.
Caught himself down there, underwater, minutes away from being a big lump of fish food—and still pissing and moaning about his wife.
He laughed into his mouthpiece.
The sound scattered the little fish that had swum into the open windows of the car, attracted by the light like moths. And that seemed pretty funny too, so he laughed some more. He looked over at Lisa and the light caught her eyes well enough to see that she was begging him to get on the stick, to keep looking for that razor. He liked her, that Lisa.
Lazar closed his eyes and told his wife good-bye. He sucked in a great gust of air and then threw all his remaining strength against the line.
It gave.
Not much, one of the knots just slipped. But he gained an extra two inches of play.
