by Sharon Sala
“Carry your bags, sir?”
Dieter turned at the question to find a dark-skinned porter in a starched white shirt and shorts pushing a small empty cart, obviously hoping for a few quick bucks.
“No, I only have one bag, but thank you,” he said, and smiled to soften the blow.
The man nodded cordially and moved along to the next passenger.
Dieter glanced at his watch, then scanned the crowd again. Still no one in sight who fit the bill, and when the carousel started to move, he began weaving his way through the crowd to retrieve his bag.
To his disgust, it was the next to last one to appear. He pulled it off the conveyor with a grunt, then popped up the handle and began wheeling it toward the exit, hoping Richard was waiting for him outside with a taxi.
“Aren’t you going to say hello?”
Dieter stared at the man who’d stepped in front of him. The voice was familiar, but that was all.
“Boss?”
Richard grinned. If he could fool Dieter, who’d known him longer than anyone except for Jacob and Alicia, he was home free. He dipped his head slightly.
“Anton Schloss. I believe you’ve been expecting me.”
Dieter’s mouth was agape, and he kept staring at the man in disbelief.
“Boss? Is that really you?”
Richard laughed out loud.
Dieter shuddered. He knew that laugh, but God in heaven, what had happened to the rest of him?
“Are you, uh…?”
“Oh, for the love of God, Lars, get hold of yourself and follow me. I have a taxi waiting outside.”
Dieter stumbled, then shifted his bag from one hand to the other and hurried after the stranger in the Panama hat.
Once inside the cab, Richard put a finger to his lips, indicating that they needed to maintain their deception in front of the driver, then began to point out places of interest as they rode to their destination.
The hotel was five-star, which Dieter expected. Richard Ponte might be in disguise, but there were some spots that a leopard never changed, and first-rate food and accommodations would have been where Richard drew the line.
They strode through the lobby, mingling with the tourists coming and going, and then straight to the elevators. Once on, Richard swiped a card that took them to an executive level of suites, then handed it to Dieter.
“Put that in your pocket,” he said. “We’re in Suite 812. I have one just like it.”
Dieter did as he was told, then followed Richard off the elevator and down the short hall to their door. Richard swiped a card through the keyless entry box, then opened the door.
“Home sweet home,” he said, and walked in first, once again leaving his errand boy to follow behind.
The moment the door closed behind them, Dieter dropped his bag and opened his mouth.
“What happened to you?”
“A nip here, a tuck there, some enhancement procedures and…voila, you have Anton Schloss, East German businessman on holiday in the Bahamas.”
“You had plastic surgery? On your face?”
“On my whole body,” Richard said, then took off the hat and sunglasses. “How do I look?”
“Scary…I mean…scary good. Honestly, boss, you look so different it takes my breath away.”
Richard couldn’t have been more pleased. “Good. Good. So, I’m sure you’re tired. Why don’t you rest a bit, say for an hour or so? Then we’ll have some dinner and scout out a few local businesses down by the shore.”
“Why? Are you looking to do some deep-sea fishing?”
Richard grinned. “Why, Lars, how astute of you. I want a shark. Doesn’t have to be a huge one, but I need one that’s a good size.”
“You want a shark?”
Richard’s smile slipped. “Do stop repeating everything I say,” he grumbled. “It’s annoying.”
“Sorry, boss, but I don’t understand.”
Richard sighed. “Of course you don’t. Okay. Here’s the deal. I need a shark, but I want it to be one that’s freshly caught. Hopefully you can procure one tomorrow. If not, you’ll just have to wait for one to show up on the docks.”
“They’re not very good for eating,” Dieter offered.
Richard grinned. “Oh, I don’t want to eat the shark. I want the shark to eat me.”
It was nearing sunset as John circled above the helipad outside his cliffside home. The water was dark and choppy, typical of the Atlantic, but just the sight of it after so much mountain and sand lifted his spirits.
“We’re here,” he said, although the announcement was unnecessary.
As before, Alicia had not enjoyed the flight as much as she would have liked and had been counting off the minutes until their arrival, although she had not suffered from motion sickness this time, thanks to a good dose of Dramamine.
“Does everything look safe?” she asked.
John gave her a quick glance, realizing that she was afraid someone was lying in wait.
“Everything looks fine. I have more security around this place than I did at Sedona. Believe me, if it had been breeched, I would have been notified. The local police department in Justice knows about my alarm system, as does the county sheriff.”
“Why don’t you have staff who live at your different residences year-round? It would make keeping everything safe a lot easier.”
“I do have someone who stays in Sedona when I’m not there, but I don’t want anyone here, and I don’t need to be taken care of.”
“But who cleans?”
He grinned. “Don’t worry. That job isn’t going to fall to you. I manage to pick up after myself just fine, and I get help in when I need it.”
She grinned. “Oh. Well…good. I mean…I would be glad to do my part, but I’m just getting the hang of learning how to cook.”
He refrained from mentioning that making sandwiches and pouring milk on cereal wasn’t really cooking, although there was that one effort she’d made, though he hadn’t quite recovered from that yet. The truth was, he was so grateful for her presence, he didn’t care if she never lifted her hand to cook again.
Then he turned his attention to landing, and within a few minutes of sighting the house, they were on the ground.
“Wait here until the rotors have stopped turning,” he said. “I’m going to tie her down, and then we’ll go into the house together.”
“Her?”
He grinned. “All ships and planes are female. You know that.”
“I wonder why,” she said.
His grin widened. “I would venture to guess it’s because men were always the ones at the helm, so they liked the idea of a woman being subservient.”
“Humph. I wonder how in control they felt when the engine quit running or the ship sprang a leak?”
“Probably blamed it on the woman for being too weak to hold up.”
“That’s sick,” Alicia objected.
“Naw…that’s just the fragile male ego afraid to admit any fault.”
She laughed. “So go tie down this broad. Nothing personal, but I’m anxious to get out of her.”
John was still smiling as he exited the chopper. He made short work of stabilizing the metal bird, then went back to get Alicia. He opened the door and held up his arms. She leaned out and down, letting him brace her until her feet were on firm ground.
“I have never been so glad to stand in dirt.”
He started to get their bags, then paused, took her in his arms and kissed her instead.
“Welcome home, baby,” he said softly, then reached in again to get the luggage.
A strong gust slapped her hair across her face, but she just laughed and turned to face the wind. The view across the water was never-ending. She remembered what the sunrise would be like and couldn’t wait to witness it again.
“Are you ready?” John asked.
She turned, about to answer, then her thoughts momentarily turned to mud. He was standing beside the chopper. The wind was whippin
g at his clothes, flirting with the collar of his red polo, delineating every muscle on his upper body, while the tight fit of his Levi’s did the same for his backside and legs. He was, in her opinion, magnificent, but she also accepted that she was strongly prejudiced in John Nightwalker’s favor.
“I’m ready,” she said.
Together they crossed the short distance from the helipad to the back of the house. John set down the bags long enough to get out his keys, then unlocked the door. He stepped inside to disarm the security system, then came back out to get her.
“Come in out of the wind,” he urged, tugging her by the hand.
“It feels good,” she said. “Different from the wind in Arizona.”
She paused in the doorway, then turned toward the ocean once more and inhaled deeply. “I’ve always loved the smell of sea air. I guess that’s why I always stayed in Miami when Daddy chose to stay away for such long periods of time. I didn’t want to get so far from home.”
“You’re pretty far from Miami here,” John said.
She frowned. “I guess, but it doesn’t feel like it. For some odd reason, this has the same feel.”
John was struck by the innocence of her answer. It occurred to him that she might never know she’d been with him before, and if she didn’t come to that conclusion on her own, he wasn’t going to shove it down her throat. It was enough that he knew. He picked up the bags and carried them inside as she closed the door behind them.
The house seemed a little stuffy, but that would soon be remedied. As soon as he had their bags in their room, he was going to open up the doors and windows and let the air blow through. Like Alicia, no matter where else he stayed or how many properties he owned, this was the place he called home.
Eighteen
The first part of the plan hinged on blowing up Richard’s favorite yacht. He hated to do it. He loved this yacht more than the one in Miami, even though he kept it berthed in Nassau most of the time. About once a year he and Alicia would vacation on it, but those days were over. He knew the Feds had probably staked out the yacht, as well as every other personal possession he owned. The captain took it out weekly, as per Richard’s orders, and he had no reason to assume he would stop just because Richard was persona non grata.
Last night Dieter had put on a wet suit and swum out to where the yacht was anchored. Within a short time he’d fastened a bomb beneath the hull and set the timer to blow in ten hours. By that time, it would be out to sea. There would be no witnesses as to who was on board, but when Richard brought the shark in later, the explosion would explain the bits of Richard Ponte that would be found inside the animal’s belly.
Richard was sitting on the dock that morning with a cup of coffee, ostensibly watching the boats, when the captain raised anchor and started out to sea. There was something to be said for habit and routine. Richard glanced at his watch. One hour to detonation.
He got up from his seat and strolled back to the car where Dieter was waiting.
“I’m going to get breakfast. You stay here and wait for the catch of the day,” he said, then grinned at his own wit.
“Yes, boss,” Dieter said, muttering beneath his breath as he watched Richard stroll off toward one of the local cafés. He would have enjoyed some breakfast, too, but that wasn’t going to happen.
Richard had sent Dieter down to the docks yesterday with a message for the local fishermen. Whoever was the first to bring in a decent-size shark would get a thousand dollars. Since it was crucial that there was no connection between Richard and Dieter when the shark was brought in, that left Dieter to wait for the day’s catch on his own.
He’d been there about an hour when there was a flurry of activity on the docks. A siren sounded, and Dieter saw a helicopter take off from somewhere farther down on the shore. A half-dozen boats started up their engines and quickly set out to sea.
“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked as a man came hurrying past.
“Just got an SOS call from some fisherman. Said someone’s yacht blew up about an hour south of here.”
“Good Lord!” Dieter said. “Are there any survivors?”
“They don’t think so. Said the yacht sank before they could get close enough to help.”
“That’s terrible,” Dieter said.
The man nodded, then hurried on. As soon as the coast was clear, Dieter called Richard. “It blew.”
“What a pity,” Richard drawled. “Any survivors?”
“Doesn’t seem to be.”
“Call me when the shipment comes in.”
“Yes, boss,” Dieter said.
Four long hours later, his shark came in. Within minutes of its arrival, he had the shark loaded and was on his way to an empty building Richard had rented.
The shark wasn’t a great white, but it was large enough for their purposes. The precious contents of the metal box that Richard had hauled halfway around the world were finally going to be put to use. Richard had brought the box from the hotel, and now he calmly dumped the contents out into a small tub filled with salt water. With Richard watching and directing the preparations, Dieter carefully destroyed every cleanly cut edge on the bits of skin and flesh. Nothing could be left to give away the fact that they’d been surgically removed. Once that was finished, the bits were dumped into another bin of sea water, along with Richard’s wallet, some pieces torn from a pair of his slacks, and a piece of bloody shirtsleeve with a button on it. After everything had soaked for at least an hour, Dieter put on a fresh pair of surgical gloves and began forcing the salty mess down the throat of the dead shark, while Richard held the mouth agape.
Once the contents were down, Dieter flushed seawater down the throat, and at Richard’s bidding, he also wedged some leftover pieces of flesh between the razor-sharp teeth.
Richard was beside himself with glee.
On the other hand, by the time he finished, Dieter was of the opinion that he might never eat seafood again.
“I think that’s it, boss.”
Richard checked the carcass, making sure there was no trace of what they’d done. Then he took out his phone and made another call.
“Landis Taxidermy.”
“This is Anton Schloss,” Richard said, lowering the timber of his voice and assuming a German accent. “I called you yesterday for a quote on what you’d charge to mount my catch.”
“Oh, yes, yes, of course, Mr. Schloss. I assume you’ve caught your shark?”
“I have. It was a very lucky morning for me.”
“Congratulations. I have everything ready. Do you know where I’m located?”
“Yes. I asked at my hotel. They gave me directions.”
“Super. Then I’ll see you soon?”
“Yes. I have the shark on a trailer behind my car. I’ll be right there.”
Within the hour, George Landis had the shark lying on its side on his worktable, while Richard stood by with his video camera. He’d insisted on filming the first steps in the taxidermy process, although George hadn’t seemed all that happy about the request until Richard handed over an extra five hundred dollars, which smoothed away any further objections.
The fact that Richard’s video was intended to wind up on TV around the world was the ultimate in-your-face snub for those who’d tried to take him down. They would have no idea who he was, other than the poor slob who’d landed the shark that ate Richard Ponte.
He was well aware that the bits and pieces would most likely have gone unnoticed, but for the torn pieces of his clothes, to show that the shark’s last meal had been human, and his wallet, complete with driver’s license, four credit cards and over a thousand dollars in cash, to show who that last meal had been. Just to put a little icing on the cake, he’d dug up an old snapshot of himself and Alicia at some charity event and put that in the wallet, too. He hoped it gave her nightmares.
“Are you ready, George?”
George nodded.
Richard turned on the camera, focusing on the man’s hand
as he made a careful cut along the belly in a place that would be invisible once the shark was mounted.
“Ugh,” Richard said as the contents of the belly spilled out, and it wasn’t a fake reaction. The smell was disgusting.
He moved closer, continuing to film, making sure the camera lens was centered on what the man’s hands were doing. When the wallet suddenly appeared among the offal, he cried out, “What’s that?”
George paused. “I’ll be damned,” he said, and then started poking through the rest of the stomach contents. “Oh sweet Lord,” he breathed.
“What?” Richard asked.
“I think this here is a piece of skin…human skin.” George opened the wallet. “There’s an American driver’s license for a man named Richard Pont.”
Richard rolled his eyes. No one ever said his last name right. He moved closer, focusing the camera right on the license photo.
“I think that’s pronounced Ponti,” he offered.
George frowned. “I’ve heard that name before. And here are some credit cards and…Holy Moses, look at all that cash. Wowie, Mr. Schloss. You sure landed yourself an expensive fish.”
“I think we should call the authorities,” Richard suggested.
George looked startled. “Oh. Yeah, of course.” He quickly washed his hands and ran to the phone. Richard could hear the excitement in his voice as he relayed his find to the police.
“You won’t believe this. I just opened up a shark, and I think I found a dead man.”
Richard played his part to the hilt, right up to willingly giving up the video to the local authorities, along with all his rights to the shark. They never noticed that he’d wiped down the video cassette before he handed it over. He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t going to take a chance on someone running the prints, even though there was no earthly reason why they should.
“Yes, yes, I will be at my hotel for a day or so longer, then I must return home,” he said as the officer took down Richard’s information. “Needless to say, my taste for game fishing is gone. Poor man. Poor, poor man.”
