Fifteen minutes later they were at the piano bar. It seemed a fitting place for them to say goodbye. Brandon had packed all of his belongings into a single backpack. He had so little… Ginny couldn’t help thinking that together they could have so much more.
They stood in an embrace for several long moments, and her eyes were wet when they drew apart. His expression seemed pained, his brows bunching in the middle. He placed his palm against her cheek, broke eye contact, then turned and walked away.
She watched him leave, considered chasing him. Ultimately she headed over to the bar and ordered a double rum and Coke.
***
Alexander had been milling about for nearly seven and a half hours. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground now, just enough to turn to slush beneath one’s feet.
Assuming the hunter’s information was correct, his target should be stepping off that gangway within the next twenty minutes. He had no cause to doubt the veracity of his intel. Such assuredness stemmed from first-hand knowledge of just how readily a person would part with secrets when undergoing hours of agonizing torture.
During his investigations into Celine, Alexander had interviewed the brother, Roland. Though the man had adamantly denied having any contact with his sister, Alexander had harbored suspicions. The hunter also knew that given time and the right set of circumstances, he would be quite capable of ferreting out the God’s-honest truth. The Network, however, and Alexander’s father in particular, had been reluctant to condone such action until further evidence presented itself.
Once Alexander had uncovered the letters in the cabin, those former constraints were lifted. After he had recovered sufficiently from his wounds, Alexander’s first order of business had been to call on the brother.
There existed serums that one could use to coax facts from a subject, but Alexander had always believed that no fun was to be had from such rote methods. Roland, being an undertaker, had possessed a delightful array of implements and tools particular to his vocation. After sedating the brother with a similar cocktail to that which he used on Marie and laying him inside a coffin for the added psychological effect, Alexander had put almost every single one of those tools and implements to use. The fact that they were never meant to be used on the living had made the whole exercise all the more enjoyable.
It had been, of course, necessary for Roland to retain his power of speech, so no Novocain in the tongue for him (the funeral home had been far enough away from any other homes that Roland’s pathetic mewling had not been heard anyway). Nevertheless, speak he did—after the first few incisions and digit removals, the brother had readily confided that Celine’s boyfriend had been to see him; that he went by the name Brandon; that he intended to sail to Alaska under a different name and start a new life; and that he intended to disembark in Juneau, where he would disappear and never be seen again.
All of this information had been given under the proviso that Alexander would then end Roland’s suffering. Such was not to be the case. When Roland’s fingers and toes were gone, Alexander had gone to work on the man’s genitals. The hunter liked to think that the most excruciating moment had come when he sliced Roland’s penis cleanly down the middle. The brother had remained only half lucid through the excision of his ears and tongue. Beyond that, shock and blood loss had rendered further procedures superfluous, even with stimulants introduced into the patient’s system. Alas, all good things, etc., etc.
At the end of it all the hunter had roasted Roland, coffin and all, in his own cremation chamber and buried the remains. A search of the brother’s bedroom had resulted in the discovery of a shoebox marked “Celine,” and within it, coded correspondence from her, but also… a rectangular pendant that had looked remarkably like a moon against a nighttime sky. A delightful find indeed.
The fun and games with Roland had taken place just last week, and to Alexander’s knowledge the brother’s absence had not yet been reported.
So it was that Alexander felt confident in the information he had been given. Of course, contingencies could always arise. Did Brandon’s tryst with the chubby blonde alter his plans?
Yet even as Alexander considered this, his target came into sight. Brandon carried a backpack and wore a thick blue coat. It was hooded, but there was no mistaking him, or those eyes, which the hunter was careful to avoid by ducking his own head and hiding his face within his hood.
The quarry crossed the gangway, then turned and stood for a moment, staring at the ship. He looked around and spotted a seafood restaurant adjacent to the parking lot, abutting the dock.
The target made for the restaurant. Alexander followed.
Despite the mid-afternoon hour, there was a sizable crowd inside the spacious eatery. Alexander walked in and immediately moved away from the door, so he might observe without being conspicuous. He spotted the men’s loo straight away. As luck would have it, his prey, now sans backpack but still wearing the coat and hood, was making for the door.
It was time. A surge of adrenaline galvanized the hunter as he crossed the floor, entered the short hall, and stepped through the door marked “Men.”
His quarry was standing at the only urinal, facing away. Alexander closed the door, locked it, and removed the silver-coated commando knife from the small of his back.
Chapter Eleven
Ginny had pounded her first rum and Coke and was halfway through her second.
You should have run after him. Like in the movies.
Didn’t the guy run after the girl in the movies? Oh well, if you love something, set it free. Then keep drinking until you forget it ever existed.
She couldn’t stop thinking about him. His eyes, his body—God, his body—his voice… then, miraculously, she heard that voice. Behind her.
“I’ll stand by you, Ginny Bowman.”
She turned and there he was, in the flesh, wet and tall and gorgeous as ever. She launched off of her seat and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him over and over and over again.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and held her firmly. “I can’t make any promises, but I can’t just walk out on what we started either. I want to see where this goes.”
She nodded her head emphatically. “I’m so happy, so happy! Let’s drop off your coat and backpack, then hit the Sail Away party and celebrate!!”
***
Alexander very much preferred when things were neat and tidy and proceeded according to plan. That was the opposite of what transpired in the men’s loo. He had very nearly made an unspeakably foolish mistake. Once he had locked the door and drawn the knife from his back, Alexander had waited, wanting desperately to look into his quarry’s eyes when he drove the blade home. It would be nothing compared to the hours of agonizing pain he wished to impose, but it would simply have to do. After all, “Terminate the target immediately,” was what Father had said. The old man really knew how to piss on a good time.
The man at the urinal had finished his business, turned, and… it hadn’t been him. Luckily the stranger, who was completely clean shaven with a large, bulbous nose, was preoccupied with his zipper and not the hunter. Alexander had quickly concealed the knife, turned around, unlocked the door and re-entered the dining area. He had scanned the room, then made for the exit…
And stepped outside just in time to see his target, still wearing the backpack, stepping right back onto the gangway.
Ah, you lovesick fool.
Plan A had been to identify his prey on board, track him once in Juneau, wait for him to turn, then hunt and kill the beast.
After receiving his father’s phone call, the modified plan had been to dispatch the prey as quickly as circumstances provided and secure the mysterious “pills”—whatever the issue might be surrounding the drugs, Alexander could tell by the tone of his father’s voice that it was a matter of the gravest concern—but now “plan B” had turned into a complete cock-up as well.
Carefully, Alexander weighed his options: the operative who had provide
d the equipment and vehicle had been called on assignment and so was not available to transport the equipment to Ketchikan. Had the operative been available to do so, there was certainly no guarantee the target would permanently disembark in Ketchikan, or in the final port, Victoria, Canada. The quarry had now proven its fickleness, and for all Alexander knew, the love-struck fool might intend to return with his new trollop to the lower forty-eight…
Alexander was confident in his ability to get the cases back on board, but there was simply no guarantee he would have the opportunity to poison the target, or that he would be capable of retrieving the pills if such a situation did present itself.
What was most preferable to the hunter was to have his weapons in hand, on board the ship, and to formulate the best plan based on further observation of his prey. Ship’s re-entry security, however—a metal detector and x-ray of oncoming packages and luggage—presented a dicey challenge in getting paraphernalia aboard.
To further complicate matters, the ship was set to sail in less than ten minutes.
At the risk of seeming self-indulgent, Alexander had always prided himself on being adaptable. And so he adapted, and instituted the first stages of Plan C.
Marie’s blood would not serve the purpose Alexander had intended after all, but such was life. Or in her case, prolonged and excruciatingly painful death. Alexander opened the boot of the LeSabre and withdrew the duffel bag, two small cases and garment bag, along with a large rag. Mostly hidden by the white van parked alongside, he removed the petrol cap, stuffed one end of the rag into the opening, produced a lighter, put flame to the end of the rag and walked away.
He was standing near the gangway, knocking snow off his boots, when the Buick blasted apart. From his vantage point he heard the BOOM! accompanied by shattering glass, saw the bumper of the car lift several feet off the ground, and witnessed a magnificent ball of flame blossom into the air over the roof of the white van, then turn almost immediately to a great cloud of black smoke. Nearby car alarms blared and flaming bits of paper and upholstery fluttered to the ground.
Voices were raised; people screamed, and the three security officers manning the security checkpoint just within the ship’s access came rushing out. One of them yelled to another to grab a fire extinguisher. The other quickly complied, and as he did so, while all eyes and attention were still on the burning vehicle, Alexander crossed the gangway. He deposited his Sail Away card in the machine on his way in so he wouldn’t be listed as missing, stepped through the metal detector, and ignored the beeping as he made his way to the stairwell.
***
Brandon and Ginny were at the Bon Voyage bar on deck nine, where the sail away party was in full swing in anticipation of the ship’s departure, when they heard the explosion.
They had snagged a small table near the tall viewing windows. Both of them stood, watching the ball of smoke ascend above the parking lot from the other side of a large white van.
“What the hell?” Ginny said.
Several people rushed to the burning vehicle, which was out of their line of sight. A few ship employees ran over, one of them carrying a fire extinguisher. As far as Brandon could tell, no one had been near the vehicle when it blew, but that didn’t mean there hadn’t been someone inside.
Dread images of Celine’s charred corpse flashed through his mind, the cardboard box being rolled into the crematory, the gouts of flame.
No. No more. That was what he’d told himself, after all. It was a large part of why he had come back, right? It was part of the reason, but not the only reason. After he had disembarked the ship, he had stood, alone with his thoughts. There had been the fear of being alone, of giving himself over to the wolf or being driven mad in his isolation. But there had been more than that…
He had walked over to the seafood restaurant, wanting more than anything just to sit and think. He had entered the establishment and found an out-of-the-way table, dropped his backpack into one of the seats and took a seat himself, looking around. He had spotted a couple at the counter, holding hands, smiling, enjoying each other’s company.
In Celine, he had found something undeniable and unconditional. Yet he had found something different, though no less powerful, with Ginny. And there he had sat, ready to turn his back on that, forever. He would be out in the wilderness, cold and alone. What kind of life would that really be?
Brandon had stared down at the table, lost in thought. He liked to believe that things happened for a reason.
He had asked himself: was he really supposed to believe that being on this ship at this time, meeting Ginny, was all just some happy accident meant to provide him with nothing beyond a brief but passionate roll in the hay?
Brandon’s crossing paths with Celine years ago had also been a “happy accident.” The two of them had just happened to be in that store, at that time. Just coincidence, right?
What had really changed Brandon’s mind, what had really brought him back on board was this: What if there were no coincidences? What if there were no accidents?
In so many ways, Celine had rescued Brandon, just when he needed it most. And now, Ginny was here, again, when he needed someone to pull him from the brink. Now it was time to let go of Celine… and perhaps the best way to do that was to fully embrace someone else.
His meeting her was not just an accident. It was a sign. Isolation wasn’t the answer.
And so he had snatched up his backpack and he had walked out and back to the gangway and right back onto the ship.
“I hope nobody was hurt,” Ginny said, stirring Brandon from his reverie.
She was a good person. She had a good heart. And she was courageous (though she didn’t know it) and she was funny, and there was simply no more denying his feelings for her. With a sudden surge of emotion he pulled her close, reached up and turned her chin to him and kissed her as if they were the last two people in the world.
***
No one had come rushing after Alexander. His distraction, it seemed, had worked. But now there was a new problem: the ship had not departed. He was back on board, yes, but the ship might not be cleared for departure while the investigation took place. Admittedly, he hadn’t thought of that.
Just then his satellite phone rang.
“Yes?”
“The incident in the tramway parking lot. Was that you?”
“The target is back on board the ship. Improvisation was necessary,” Alexander answered.
“Are you or are you not capable of carrying out your assignment?” his father asked.
“I have everything I need to accomplish the mission.”
For a moment there was silence on the other end of the line. Then:
“I’ll make some phone calls.” The line went dead.
A half hour later the Rapture was cleared for departure.
***
As the ship had set sail, Captain Armenio Gentili’s heavily accented voice had announced over the loudspeakers that no one had been harmed in the explosion, and that local authorities were looking into the matter. All passengers who had disembarked at Juneau were now back on board, safe and sound. To the cheers of all gathered at the Bon Voyage bar, he had announced that they were now on their way to Ketchikan.
Ginny and Brandon danced (mostly she danced, but Brandon did join her for one slower song) and drank, and sang loudly. She had not felt this alive, this plain good, in a very long time. Brandon took a seat to watch her shimmy to the music. She normally felt self-conscious when dancing, like everyone was watching, judging. Today she didn’t give a shit. The way Brandon looked at her, the raw desire in his gaze, meant that even if everyone was watching, it didn’t matter.
Because he came back… for me. The goofy, geeky, heavyset broad who never quite measured up. He sees things in me that either I don’t see or choose to ignore. He believes in me.
They partied for what seemed like hours. Ginny had worked up a light sweat when she decided to finally have a seat. The two found a table further
from the music where they could actually hear each other talk.
“So… what do you plan to do when we get back? Where will you stay?” she asked.
A shadow passed over Brandon’s features. His bright eyes dimmed just a touch. “I need to find a place. I can’t stay in a big city, not for long. I need someplace that I can… get away to.”
The wind went out of Ginny’s sails just a bit. What did you expect? He’s going to move right in with you? Don’t be stupid.
“I’ve got a little place of my own, on the outskirts of Seattle. It’s nothing fancy, and I totally get that you need your Fortress of Solitude, but… I’m willing to help out. I mean, you’re going to need to get a job, a vehicle… it might take a while to get on your feet.”
Why don’t you just get down on one knee and propose to him? Get it out of the way.
Kindly fuck off.
“I’m just putting that out there,” she added quickly.
I’m not desperate to get hitched or anything.
Brandon’s eyes were distant. Oh shit, what did you do? He’s thinking it’s not too late to swim back to Juneau.
“Bueller? Bueller?”
Those bright brown eyes found her again. “Sorry. Yes, there’s a lot of, uh… logistics that I’ll need to figure out. What time is it?”
Ginny checked her watch. “Is it that late already? Damn. Almost dinner time.”
In that instant Captain Gentili came back on the comm: “This is your captain once again. Just want to inform passengers that we have reports of an approaching storm. I hope to get us out and away from the storm’s path, so we’ll be moving just a bit more quickly, a little over twenty knots. I will update you with more information on the storm as it becomes available. Thank you.”
Ginny raised her eyebrows at Brandon. “Rough seas ahead.”
***
He had to tell her.
The Turning Page 12
