Bermingham looked at each Wheeler and laughed. “I’m talking about you morons. Juan, you. And your brother or whoever the fuck that fat walleyed bastard is with the gun. This is your turf, Juan. If anyone brought a Fed in, it was you.”
He waited for Juan to absorb the meaning of his words. Wisely, Oren thought, he didn’t check to see when Joaquin would catch on. It was hot out here and clearly Bermingham didn’t have all day. Once Juan caught up, he pulled a gun from his pocket and raised it to Bermingham.
“I didn’t bring any fucking Fed in. Mr. Vincente knows I’m loyal. Mr. Vincente said that we were supposed to check for any dirt. Mr. Vincente said that if we saw even a hint of anything shady we’re supposed to blow the boat.”
“Bullshit.”
“Bullshit, bullshit,” Juan said, fishing in his other pocket for a key fob. “See this? It’s wired to the engine. One push of this button and the whole boat goes boom.” He was bright enough to read Bermingham’s smirk. “And before you get any fancy ideas, know this. If I don’t call Mr. Vincente from the cell phone on the boat within two hours, he can detonate the bomb remotely. He had us rig up that boat real nice, just to be sure everyone holds up their end.”
Juan swung his gun wildly when he heard the heavy footsteps of Bermingham’s buddy Ned heading their way. It seemed the sight of the Wheelers with guns still didn’t unnerve the quiet, muscular man. He sauntered up to his partner, looked around the scene, and raised a questioning eyebrow.
Bermingham shook his head. “Seems Vincente wants to get ahead of schedule.”
“We moving the cargo early? Good. Get out of this freaking heat.”
“You’re not moving anything!” Juan waved his gun around, trying and failing to get Ned to notice it. “You and your buddy here are going to wait until Mr. Vincente gets his money. Anyone makes a move to get in that boat, I blow it sky high.” He jumped at the sound of another motorboat. “Who the fuck is this?”
3:03pm, 106° F
Booker shifted against the post. The acoustics in this inlet were terrific. It helped that the little greasy one with the high-pitched voice was facing the section of Jinky’s under the porch. His voice echoed back across the water. The big one and his muscular friend both spoke with deeper tones that carried nicely across the water. He could make out almost every word they were saying. He looked forward to seeing who would kill whom first.
What did they call this? A busman’s holiday?
Or would he have to do some killing to make that true?
Either way, Booker felt content to watch the action play out with no involvement from him. He did wonder what, if anything, Dani had to do with this. She seemed to have known very well to get clear of the action. He squinted to see the misshapen man holding the older men at gunpoint and grimaced. He hoped Dani never had to have any interactions with him. He looked unsavory to say the least.
He was relieved of the need to dwell on the thought by the arrival of another motorboat.
3:03pm, 106° F
Dani peered out from behind the thick hedge of sea grape to watch the fight escalating in front of Jinky’s. She and Choo-Choo had slipped behind the rental units and made it all the way to Dani’s shack at the edge of the water. The plan had been to sneak back to grab a few necessities and the rest of her cash and haul ass out of Jinky’s parking lot as soon as possible. Where they hid, the wind off the water made hearing Bermingham’s conversation impossible, but they could both make out the angry tones and read the body language. The guns helped drive the point home.
“They’re not going to let us just drive out of here.” Choo-Choo leaned his head back against the shack wall.
“Maybe we could steal the boat, after all,” Dani said. “Both the Wheelers are on shore. If we could get to the boat without them seeing us, we could climb up. Do you know how to hotwire a boat? Is that possible?”
“How would we get out there unseen? The boat seems to be the focus of attention. They’d see us in a kayak or a rowboat.”
“We could swim. I swim farther than that every day.”
Choo-Choo made a soft sound and Dani turned to see him staring at her. He pulled the collar of his T-shirt down to expose the edge of his scars. “Let’s just say the days of holding my breath are behind me. I can barely light a cigarette. Maybe we could just lay low?”
“That’s probably a good idea.” She heard the putter of a small motor. “Who’s this?” Peering through the sea grape again, she swore under her breath. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
3:03pm, 106° F
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Oren muttered when he saw the little boat overloaded with Australians puttering up to the dock. Dreadlocks and beach towels hung over the edge as the suntanned group laughed and sang, oblivious to the scene awaiting them. They pulled into the slip beside Juan, throwing the lines out toward the cleats, followed by two coolers that clinked with empty bottles.
Ned stepped closer to their boat, putting a heavy foot down on the line. Nigel/Rigel tossed a heap of wet towels over his foot, squinting up at the big man. “Tie us off there, would ya? That’s a good man.”
“You should go,” Ned said.
“We just got back, yeah. Good day out there. Got some pics of your little deer and some amazing shots of heron.” He helped two of his buddies up onto the dock while the one Oren was mostly sure was a woman tied off the boat. “Now we’re ready for some nice frosty ones, right?”
Oren didn’t think he had ever seen any group of living creatures so oblivious.
All but the girl fished phones from their pockets, laughing as they showed each other photos. Ned gave Bermingham a questioning glance, stepping aside as the taller man approached Nigel/Rigel.
“You should go,” Bermingham said, physically blocking the dreadlocked boy from moving past him. Finally the kid thought to look up.
“Yeah, yeah, we’re going. Heading up to get us some of your shit beer. Gotta do what you gotta do, you know?”
Bermingham didn’t move. “The bar is closed.”
The kids laughed. “Nah,” the maybe-girl said. “We’re staying here. We’re regulars.”
“Is that right?” Bermingham smiled and stepped closer to the three holding their cell phones in front of them. Faster than they could react—which Oren had to admit probably wasn’t all that fast—he snatched all three phones, one after another, and tossed them into the water. At their cries of outrage, he drew his weapon from his shorts pocket, pressing it between the eyes of the closest boy.
“Maybe you didn’t understand what I said. Maybe it’s the accent. I said the bar is closed. Which room are you staying in?” When nobody spoke he pressed hard, making the boy’s eyes water. “If you can’t say the number, stomp it out with your feet. What room?”
“Six! Six!” Nigel/Rigel sputtered.
“Good boy.” Bermingham smiled. “Now unless you want me to start shooting into the empty space my gun’s pointing at, you’re all going to go back to your room, shut the door, and keep your fucking mouths shut. Ned, get that kid’s phone. Toss it in the water.”
Nigel/Rigel didn’t resist and Bermingham nodded. “Very good. Are we clear now? You go into your room and you stay there. If I see you, I shoot you. If I see cops, I shoot them and then I shoot you. If I see anyone at all walking around out here, I shoot everyone, but it always comes back to me shooting you too. Understand? Get out of here.”
Nigel/Rigel finally found a shred of nerve. “Welcome to fucking America.”
Ned laughed. “We’re Canadian.”
3:15pm, 106° F
They watched the Australians hurry back to their room. Choo-Choo whispered into Dani’s ear. “They’re not worried about witnesses. Why do you suppose that is?”
“Is it just me? Us? Does shit like this happen to everyone?” She stepped backwards, pushing him with her out of the shrubbery and back around her shed. It took all of her self-control not to kick over the stand of paddles leaning against the wall. “T
hey’re not going to let anyone walk away from this. Even if Bermingham leaves with his cargo, the Wheelers are going to blow those kids away. They’re not going to leave them to be witnesses. Maybe they’ll let Mr. Randolph go. Maybe. And only then because they’ll be able to use him again.” She stopped her rant. “What?”
Choo-Choo shrugged. “Maybe that’s not the only reason they’ll let your boss live. Maybe he’s not just your boss.”
“Don’t go there. Mr. Randolph is scared of these guys.”
“But still does business with them.”
“He doesn’t have a choice.”
“Oh.” His tone told her just how much he believed that. “Well, regardless of who is working for whom, nobody is working for us. What do you want to do? Think they’ll just leave us alone? Let us ride this out? That Bermingham guy seems to favor you. And you’ve already told me about the delightful rapport you have with, what’s his name? Joaquin?”
“Shh.”
Heavy footsteps approached on the wooden walkway. “Dani?”
She didn’t recognize the voice. Yanking Choo-Choo by the arm, she jerked him toward the laundry carts pushed up beside the paddle stand. “Tell them I’m not here.” She ducked down between the bins, pulling her feet up close, and shooed him away. Fortunately nobody could assume a look of bored insouciance quicker or more effectively than Choo-Choo and when Bermingham’s thug, Ned, looked around the corner to the back of the shed, Choo-Choo leaned against the paddle stand as if he’d been planted there. He didn’t even bother to arch an eyebrow.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Sinclair. Hi there.” He made his tone just lurid enough to make the larger man pause. “Something I can help you with?”
“Where’s Dani?”
“Running. She’s always running.”
Not a second’s hesitation. Dani smiled.
“Damn it,” Ned muttered. “Tell her when she gets back to get her ass to the bar ASAP.”
“Can do.”
Ned still didn’t walk away. “No, you’re staying with her, right? You’d better come with me. Come on.”
“To the bar? With you? Maybe you should tell me your name first, soldier.”
“Save it for the health club, pal. C’mon.”
Choo-Choo didn’t move. From where she sat she could just make out his rear profile. From what she could see, if he got any more relaxed he’d collapse. “Quick question. If I’m with you, who’s going to tell Dani to hurry back to Jinky’s? She usually showers after her run, sometimes naps. She might miss all the fun. How about we do this? I stay here and wait for her and the instant her little feet hit this doorway, I’ll hustle us both over to your party. It’s not like I’m going to be able to sneak away, not in this shirt.”
She could hear Ned scuffing the gravel. “Give me your phone.”
“Don’t have one.”
“Bullshit. Everyone’s got a phone.”
“I don’t. But if I did I’d give you my number.” Choo-Choo took a step closer. “You’re welcome to search me if it would make you feel better.”
“Knock it off.” Dani heard him mutter to himself for a moment. “Okay, look. Here’s what we’re going to do. You are going to sit in front of this, this—what is this? A cabin?”
Dani could hear the smirk in Choo-Choo’s voice. “Home.”
“Whatever. You sit there in front where I can see you. You keep that shirt on and stay out in the open until Dani gets back. Then you two double-time it to the bar. I’ll tell you the same thing we told those morons on the boat: If I see you or I see any signs of anyone you called doing anything other than what I told you to do, I’ll shoot you. And I promise you this, blondie. I will be the one that shoots you.”
Choo-Choo sighed. “I’ve heard that before.”
Footsteps away across the gravel and Dani risked leaning forward enough to see Choo-Choo’s profile. His high cheekbones glowed with a blush that hadn’t been there before. He didn’t look down at her but stared out at the hedges and the water beyond. He stayed where Ned could see him but turned enough to hear Dani’s whisper.
“You okay?”
His mouth worked in that tight way she’d come to recognize. She knew those high spots of color on his cheeks. Choo-Choo was pissed.
“If he had put a hand on me . . .”
“I think your come-hither act put the kibosh on that.”
Choo-Choo snorted. “Don’t kid yourself. That’s exactly the kind of guy who’ll come sneaking around the back door after a few too many brewskis with his buddies.”
Dani stood and moved closer behind him. She kept her voice low and even, knowing she was stoking the fire that already burned within her. “Just another ham-fisted jack-off with a gun. Another bully who gets to pick and choose who lives and who dies.”
“Another fucking authority. Another little despot.” He stared straight ahead, his eyes shining with anger. “I don’t want to get shot again, even if my scars get the bar their twenty-fourth round of fucking drinks. But if I do get shot, I’m not going to be the only one paying. I’m not. I’m not going back to that place.”
She knew what he meant. She knew that place. It was the place of her nightmares.
“Then we need a plan.”
“We need a gun.” He chewed his lip. “No other way off this island?”
“That bridge is it. I can’t see us kayaking our way out.”
“Then we need a distraction.”
They stood there silently, thinking, listening to the faint sound of angry voices drifting across the water. Dani smiled.
“How do you sink a boat?”
3:38pm, 106° F
She swam against the tide. That was good. She ran her instructions over and over in her mind. Choo-Choo had sat in the doorway of the shack, whispering to her before she snuck through the hedges to the water. He had told her that she wouldn’t need to create any hole. If she managed to disconnect the bilge pump before she unscrewed the clamps on the hoses attached to the metal tubes in the through hull, the boat would sink quickly. Even with his detailed descriptions, she wasn’t sure exactly what these metal tubes were, although the term ‘through hull’ seemed pretty self-explanatory. And she could certainly find a circuit breaker to pull the pump wires. She planned on unplugging and unscrewing anything she could get her hands on.
Once the boat started to sink, the plan was to swim back to the floating kayak dock. If Bermingham watched the boat, he’d see it start to go down and raise the alarm. All eyes would be on the boat and the tide would be in her favor. She could climb out of the water behind the heavy greenery on the far side of the inlet and hurry with Choo-Choo to her car. At least one or two of the men would jump in the dinghy and the sound of its motor would distract them from the sound of the Honda’s engine.
It wasn’t a great plan, but it was a damn sight better than sitting around waiting to die.
Plus Bermingham and the Wheelers would lose all their precious cargo.
Dani didn’t know what the boat held. At first she’d thought drugs but judging from everyone’s nervousness, she had to guess it was something more serious. Something that became delicate in the heat. It had to be weapons. Heat wouldn’t bother guns but it would probably bother explosives, and twenty-five volatile units of deadly explosives didn’t belong in the hands of Bermingham and definitely not in the hands of the Wheelers.
Whatever they were coddling in the hull of this tub was going to find a new home at the bottom of the Spanish Channel. Dani didn’t bother telling herself she was doing this for the good of mankind. She wished she could see their faces when they watched the boat disappear.
She wished she could see their faces when they realized she too had disappeared.
But first things first. She swam in long, smooth strokes, staying underwater as long as possible to keep the chances of being spotted from shore to a minimum. The lowering sun would only help, shining brilliantly on the water, darkening shadows and throwing a powerful glare.
A heavy-duty screwdriver hung from her neck on the orange string from Choo-Choo’s sunglasses. That was all she’d need, he told her. Get below decks and start wreaking havoc.
If she could get on the boat.
She squinted through the water to be sure she didn’t surface in the shadow of the boat. If anyone was watching, she’d be visible against the trawler’s faded red hull. Instead she peeked out at the back of the boat—stern? Aft? She had no idea. There, as Choo-Choo had predicted, was a nice, shiny ladder nearly reaching the water. Choo-Choo had seen enough of Joaquin Wheeler to know the big man wouldn’t be comfortable shimmying down a flimsy ladder to the dinghy. He’d told Dani the odds were excellent the boys would have brought along a new ladder for their own comfort and there it was. It looked out of place against the battered hull and Dani knew she’d have to climb quickly. Her dark skin and black dress would stand out clearly.
The aluminum ladder felt warm to the touch and heat pounded off the side of the boat. She really hoped that whatever the heat would do to the contents of the boat, it wouldn’t do it while she was onboard. Even with the wind off the water, it felt ten degrees hotter on the sticky deck. Dani ducked down, water slicking her way as she crabwalked to the front of the boat where the wheelhouse jutted up under a tattered canopy.
She found the trap door to the hold between a cooler and a pile of ropes. The sight of a padlock made her swear until she saw the lock wasn’t fastened. It was just looped through the hasp to keep the hold door shut. It seemed like a pointless thing to do. The explosives weren’t likely to walk themselves out, were they?
Dani didn’t care why the Wheelers did what they did. This close, all she could think of was how satisfying it would be to see the boat sinking into the channel waters, maybe get a glimpse of the anger and panic on Bermingham’s face as he watched his big deal go down to the deep. Maybe she’d get to flip them all off as she and Choo-Choo drove over the bridge.
The thought made her smile.
Redemption Key (A Dani Britton Thriller) Page 17
