They stood side by side and faced the edge of the cliff, wind plucking at the wings.
“Remember,” Mack said. “Five steps, launch, and keep the nose down slightly.”
“Got it.”
A huge beam of light hit the ground about 200 yards away. Maybe Murdoch wasn’t going to drop more men. Maybe he was just going to shoot them at the edge of the cliff, where they were totally exposed.
“No time!” Mack said. “We need to be in the air before we’re spotted. If they see the hang glider, all of this was wasted.”
King should have known when Mack said hang glider, not hang gliders.
But he didn’t figure that out until later. Just as he didn’t figure out till later that Mack had been pretending to fix the broken frame when in reality, no amount of duct tape would have made it possible to fly.
But that was later.
Mack said. “I love you, son. More than life. Always remember that.”
And before King could reply, Mack shouted, “Go!”
Mack began to run forward to launch. King matched him stride for stride.
But when they reached the end of the cliff and King soared into the air, there was nobody beside him.
CHAPTER 39
Just like that, King was in the air. Alone. Hanging from aluminum braces of the hang glider. Swooping away from the cliffs.
He looked over his left shoulder for Mack. Then his right shoulder. It was dark, but he should have seen something. Anything.
He turned his head hard to look behind him. And then saw.
A pinprick of light on the cliff’s edge. Getting smaller as the hang glider took him away. The light blinked three times. Black. Then blinked three times.
Mack was still on the cliff’s edge. Signaling him.
King blinked against tears.
When he looked at the cliff again for the flashlight signal, there was nothing.
Below him, he heard the barking of seals. Even that began to fade as the hang glider took him out into Puget Sound.
Lower and lower until the deep black waters reached up and sucked at the edges of the hang glider and took him into the shock of cold against the skin of his exposed face.
As both wings of the hang glider dragged into the water, King let go of the brace and rolled into the water.
The wet suit gave him buoyancy, and each kick of the flippers moved him with ease through the currents.
He told himself to kick and glide, kick and glide. Not to think. About Mack, left behind on the island. About monsters in the deep. Don’t think. Kick and glide.
Every few strokes, he glanced at the glowing GPS on his wrist, following the arrow.
Kick and glide. No thoughts. Kick and glide.
The waves were moderate, and occasionally one would curl and splash into his face, and he would taste salt.
Kick and glide. No thoughts. Kick and glide.
He managed to fall into an illusion of freedom. The floatation effect of the wet suit and the efficiency of the flippers and the endlessness of the water and the rhythm of kick and glide put him in a separate universe where time and gravity didn’t exist.
Kick and glide. No thoughts. Kick and glide.
It was like a shock of electricity when the rounded object bumped his belly.
Killer whale, he thought instantly. Then relaxed.
He’d scraped the top of a rock.
Moments later, a crunch of sand took him out of the alternate universe.
He’d made the far shore. With one immediate task. Find the cache of clothing Mack had promised would be waiting at GPS position C.
But, he vowed, that wasn’t going to be the end of it.
CHAPTER 40
“Visiting hours are over for the morning,” the nurse behind the desk said with tartness in her voice. “Come back after one this afternoon.”
King had been out of the water for seven hours. Not even noon, and he felt as if it had been a full day. But then, yes, it had. No sleep during the long night chase and a swim across the strait. The dry clothes that had been waiting for him as Mack had promised had helped, but only slightly. He’d found money as promised but didn’t use it to get on a bus. Instead, he’d paid for a taxi driver to take him places, including a military surplus store, where he’d purchased a set of handcuffs that were now hidden in his shirt.
His exhaustion was not only physical but also mental. Worry about what had happened to Mack. Worry about Ella. He was free from the island but only physically.
“I need to see my mom,” King told her. “She’s in long-term care. Ella King.”
The nurse had a middle-age face that had long set into a permanent expression of disapproval, but it softened for King.
For a moment, he thought she was going to deliver the news he’d been dreading. That was part of the mental exhaustion. Remembering how Mack had said they used Ella’s condition as a threat, promising something would go wrong if Mack didn’t follow orders. King thought she was about to tell him that it was too late, that Ella King had succumbed to her coma, that Ella was...
“I wish I could break the rules for you,” the nurse said. “But really, it’s only a little more than an hour to wait. We’ve got kitchen staff going from room to room, and if I break the rules for you, then...”
The nurse gave a helpless shrug.
“Close your eyes, okay?” King said. He wanted to do a happy dance—nothing had happened to his mom! Well, not yet. King couldn’t wait an hour. Too many bad things could happen.
The nurse didn’t close her eyes. She watched as King walked past the desk and down the hall to where his mom was on a bed, connected to the tubes that kept her alive.
The nurse didn’t yell after him to stop. King had guessed right. She hadn’t broken any rules by giving him permission. So if she didn’t say anything, she wouldn’t get in trouble. She had enough of a heart to want King to be with his mother.
Of course, King thought, if the nurse knew what he intended to do in the room with those handcuffs, that would have been a different story. Lights would be flashing and horns would be blaring and a full team of security guards would be dashing down the hall to stop him.
At the doorway, King paused. He knew the sight of his mom laying there in helplessness would hammer his heart like an anvil thrown against his chest.
And it did.
King set his jaw hard and walked into the room. Ella had lost weight, and her cheekbones pressed against tight skin. He was glad her hair looked nice. Someone had washed it and brushed it. That was a good sign they were taking care of everything. Especially the stuff that mattered. Like turning her over enough to keep her from getting bedsores. Like exercising her legs and arms.
Her breathing was soft as he leaned in to kiss her cheek.
It reminded him of Mack’s story about going into the room when King was a baby to listen to King breathe just so he knew King was alive.
King kissed Ella on the cheek and whispered into her ear. “I love you, Mom. Wake up soon, okay?”
He pulled up a chair to a comfortable position near the bed. He noted with satisfaction that the side bar of the hospital bed formed a railing with a long rectangle. It meant that when he clicked half of the handcuffs around the railing, there was no way to slide them loose.
He locked his wrist into the second half of the handcuffs.
The key was somewhere in a garbage can outside the hospital. Until they brought in a welding unit to cut the side rail of the bed, he was stuck in this room.
King reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out Blake’s iPhone. He dialed a number that he’d memorized.
When a woman’s voice answered, King said, “Hello. I’d like to speak to Warden Murdoch. Please tell him it’s the Lyon King.”
CHAPTER 41
“King,” Murdoch said 30 seconds later, “it’s great to hear from you. Things are well?”
What a slime, King thought.
“Better than you must be feeling,�
�� King said. He’d told himself to stay cool and collected, but he couldn’t help the quick rise of anger and the need to lash out verbally at Murdoch. “Last time I saw you, you smelled like puke. Did that duct tape hurt when they ripped it loose from your eyebrows and mustache?”
Murdoch chuckled. “What a strange thing for you to say. Duct tape? That’s what you said, right? Duct tape?”
“So you’re pretending I didn’t pepper spray you last night? That I didn’t use an EID on you? Which, by the way, in case you didn’t figure it out, was payback for what you did to Dad.”
“I’m trying to follow this conversation,” Murdoch said. “But you’ll surely agree it seems so random.”
“You’re denying that you sent prisoners to chase us down?”
“What I’m thinking is that this really is a strange conversation,” Murdoch answered.
“I get it,” King said. “You think I’m recording this phone call, so you’re not going to make any incriminating statements.”
“This call just keeps getting stranger. Or are you trying to prank me?”
“Nope,” King said. “I want you to release my dad. And I promise your secret will be safe forever.”
Murdoch chuckled again. “Yep. Prank.”
“If you really thought this was a prank,” King said, “you would have hung up by now.”
King shifted in his chair. He’d thrown a blanket over the arm that was handcuffed to the bed rail. No sense attracting attention until he needed it.
“No,” Murdoch said. “I like you. You’re a bright young man. Unless suddenly you’ve lost your mind, there must be a good reason for this strange phone call. So I’m listening out of genuine curiosity. Go on, please.”
“Not much else to say,” King answered. “Dad goes free. Nobody touches my mom. Everything is all square. Once they are safe, you are safe.”
“I’ll humor you. I would be safe from what? But please be careful. If you’re going to make some kind of physical threat against me, you’ll be breaking a federal law. And by the way, I am recording this conversation. It’s standard policy.”
Interesting, King thought, for the warden to alert King that the conversation was being recorded. On the recording, if any judge or jury listened to it later in court, it would sound exactly like a friendly warning from Murdoch. On the other hand, it was good way to alert King that because Murdoch knew it was being recorded, Murdoch might say things in a way that King could interpret differently.
“You can be safe from that Macbook Air I took out of the old prison. Blake’s Macbook Air. I’m glad he went with a lightweight computer like that. Don’t know if I could have made it across Puget Sound with anything heavier. Especially after what it took to make sure water couldn’t get inside.”
Yeah. It was a bluff.
King continued. “There’s enough on that computer to destroy your career. Sorry, I’m wrong about that. Enough on there to destroy your career and put you in prison. That wouldn’t be good. Could you imagine what other prisoners in the general population would do to you once they discovered you’d been a prison warden?”
“I’m getting concerned here,” Murdoch said.
“You should be.” King tried to tamp down his anger.
“What’s concerning me is how crazy you sound. I don’t know that I can believe this is a prank.”
“Three hours,” King said. “I’ve got the Macbook Air with me. You bring my dad to me in three hours, or I call the newspapers and hand over the computer.”
“I’m getting even more concerned here.”
King wondered if Murdoch was using double-speak. Because Murdoch had warned King that the call was being recorded, he could later claim he meant he was concerned about King. But right now, he might actually be admitting he was really concerned about King’s threat.
So King played it that way.
“What I’m thinking,” King said, “is that somehow you have a way to track where the phone call is coming from. If I had been afraid of that, I would have hung up a long time ago. But I’ve got the Macbook Air, and I’m going to hide it between now and when you come visit. Even if you order someone right now to come get me, I’ll have plenty of time to hide it. So I’m not afraid to tell you where I am. Besides you need to know in order to bring me my dad. Are you listening?”
“Only because I’m concerned about your craziness here.”
“I’m at the hospital. In my mom’s room. After we hang up, I’m going to put the Macbook Air in a place you’ll never find. And then I’m going to return to her room and handcuff myself to her bed. So if you or some goon arrives, it’s going to cause a big fuss if you try to take me away. But you’re smarter than that, right? Bring my dad. Then you’re safe.”
“King, King, King,” Murdoch sighed. “I think I’m going to need to talk to your dad about this. It’s his day off, so I’ll give him a call at home and tell him that you’ve really crossed a line here.”
Brief silence.
“Hang on,” Murdoch said. “How about you call your dad first? Then call me back, and I’ll let you apologize for this phone call.”
“Three hours,” King said.
King pulled the phone away from his ear and used his thumb on the touch screen to end the call.
CHAPTER 42
King’s arm was sore. With his one wrist handcuffed to the bed railing, he couldn’t move much as he spoke on the phone. Nor, of course, could he shift the phone from one hand to another as people often did during long phone calls.
He stretched his free arm, and then, after a few hesitant seconds, King dialed another number and put the cell phone back to his ear. He was shocked when someone answered the cell phone on the other end.
“Dad?” King said.
“Hey,” Mack said. “Sorry I missed you for breakfast. You still at MJ’s working on a project?”
“I wasn’t at MJ’s,” King said. “You know that.”
“That’s what your note said. I found it on the breakfast table this morning.”
Only one conclusion to draw here, King told himself. Mack was under guard. This call was being recorded too.
“So you’re at home,” King said.
“Where else? Murdoch called before I started my day shift. Gave me the day off.”
“Sure,” King said. “And you’re alone.”
“King, if I didn’t have a headache, this might be a little easier to deal with. But just so you know, my brain feels swollen. Been drinking lots of water too. Crazy thirsty. So I’m not in the best of moods.”
“What about last night?” King asked.
“Last night?”
This was seriously starting to make King mad. He wasn’t going to let Murdoch win this round.
“Mack,” he said. “You know where Mom’s iPhone is, right?”
“Yeah, unless you moved it.”
With Ella in the hospital, they’d left everything at home as it was in her pottery workshop. To change things would be to admit defeat, to say that they had given up hope of her ever coming out of the coma.
“I know you’re not a big fan of technology,” King said, “but I need you to do me a huge favor. Can you get the phone and turn it on? There’s a button on the top right. Press and hold down until a white apple appears on the screen.”
“This headache is irritating me,” Mack said.
“It’s important to me,” King answered. He was not going to let Mack wiggle out of this. He could picture Mack in a room somewhere in the SCC with guards watching him. Or Murdoch staring down at him, making sure Mack didn’t say anything to let King know where Mack was.
“Okay.” Mack sighed.
“Don’t hang up with your phone,” King said. Mack’s cell phone was about ten years old. A stray thought hit King. Weird, in this moment, wondering about the phrase he had just used. Don’t hang up the phone. Nobody hung up cell phones anymore. That was from before, when the receiver was on a hook and you lifted up the receiver and took it off the hook
to make a call. Well, maybe that’s why the thought hit King. Because of how old his dad’s cell phone was. And how his dad’s technological world was back in the “hang up the phone” days.
“No way am I hanging up,” Mack said with some humor back in his voice. “If you want me on your mom’s iPhone, I’m going to have to stay on this one for instructions.”
“Exactly,” King said.
Silence. King imagined Mack looking at the warden with a “Now what?” expression. How could Mack go to the pottery workshop and get Ella’s iPhone when Mack was stuck in some cell pretending to be in the house?
While King was waiting, the door to the hospital room opened. An orderly walked in with a gadget. A big guy, dark hair, bearded. With shoulders stretching the green uniform tight and a chest that seemed ready to bust open the fabric.
King was glad he had a blanket hiding the handcuffs. He wasn’t ready yet for the questions that would happen when someone noticed. “I’m her son,” King explained.
The orderly answered. “Need to check her temperature.”
King shrugged and held out the phone briefly, so that the orderly could see King wasn’t interested in a conversation. King wanted the guy out of here as soon as possible.
The orderly went to the other side of the bed and touched the gadget against Ella’s skull. There was an almost inaudible beep.
The orderly checked a screen on the gadget and gave King a thumbs up.
Then the guy tapped some of the drip tubes and gave a nod.
After that, he walked out, just as Mack spoke again into King’s ear. “Okay. Believe it or not, I actually figured out how to turn it on. The little white apple is there.”
“Sure,” King said. Sarcastic.
“You don’t need to speak to me like I’m a child.” Mack snorted. “Well, actually, when it comes to this, you probably do.”
“Okay,” King said, knowing Murdoch wasn’t going to be able to keep this charade going much longer. “Tell me when the home screen appears.”
“Home screen?”
“When the apple goes away and the photo shows up. Of the two of us sitting on a dock.”
Dead Man's Switch Page 13
