by Andrew Allan
Jimmy was talking to the patrolman.
I reached for a ring. Three spikes. Deadly sharp.
“Alright, take care,” said the officer.
I sensed Jimmy turning back into the truck.
I pulled back.
His hand hit mine coming off the gearshift.
“Whoa,” he said and looked over at me. Caught in the cookie jar.
“Ain’t those cool?” he said.
I acted natural and held up the ring like it was no big thing. “Yeah, pretty wild. Wedding ring?”
He laughed.
“Maybe in Japan. And, maybe if the wife wants to kill her husband. They do all kinda weird shit over there.”
I nodded. Sure.
He reached for the ring.
I handed it to him.
“Call these things kakutes, over there,” he said, pronouncing it kay-koot, which sounded too hillbilly for something used in Japan. “Wood ones are called Shobos.” He slid it on his finger, spikes inward. “Little weapon you can hide in your hand. Looks just like any old ring. Ninjas use ‘em. You go up behind a person or grab ‘em.”
He grabbed my arm. His other hand steadied the wheel while the kakute spikes dug into my skin.
“Yow,” I said.
He smiled and pulled his hand back. Two bloody dots bloomed on my forearm.
“I wasn’t even squeezin’. So, you know these things can do some righteous damage.”
“Very impressive.” I wiped the blood on my pant leg.
“That’s doing it the nice way.” He thumbed the ring and twisted the spikes to the outside of his hand. “The other way’s to just pop ‘em in the neck or temple or any place you wanna take ‘em down.” He emphasized ‘pop’ with a jab punch past my face.
“Ever have to do that?” I said.
He gave a sly smirk. “Let’s just say I hire a lot of riffraff.”
He grabbed the wheel with both hands, admired the ring, and accelerated.
Another street guard waved him on.
A pack of police cars raced past, lights flashing, but no sirens.
“Wonder what the hell’s happening there,” said Jimmy.
“Maybe they got a lead on that son of a bitch that killed the Governor,” I said. That was about as “in character” as I was gonna get.
“Hope so. Course, I’m glad Hoyt’s in there. Known him a long time.”
“Oh yeah? How’s that.”
He looked at me like I should know.
I said, “You mean membership?”
He nodded.
“Just sounded like you went back further than that.”
Jimmy shook his head. “Not beyond the Kith. But, we were pretty much there from the beginning.”
“We’ve seen a lot.”
“Safe to say we’re gonna die very fulfilled men.” He puffed up his chest and smiled wide. His tongue wagged a bit out of his mouth.
“And if Razook has his way, you may not even have to worry about the dying part,” I added.
That got him laughing. He revved the engine as we crossed the bridge to Fort DeSoto proper.
At long last, I reached my target.
Now, how to burn it all down?
Jimmy had all kinds of access; enough to pull in and park in the northernmost lot on the island, right in the middle of all the activity.
Right in the middle of the Kith.
“Welcome to the mother ship in the making,” he said.
“Thanks. These all your employees?”
“Probably the majority of them. I know ‘Zook’s got his own group, too, but they’re probably the ones barking orders. Mine just follow ‘em.”
I nodded.
“Who you looking for here?”
Good question.
“I don’t want them to know I’m here yet.”
“Nice. Quietly checking up on things.”
He opened his door and stepped out. “I’ll be in that portable over there if you need me for anything.”
I got out of the truck. “Thanks. I may grab a ride back.”
“Good deal.”
Jimmy walked towards the trailer.
I peeked at the kakute in my hand. It had three spikes.
60
THIS WAS DICEY.
Here I was on an island surrounded by men with orders to kill me who were surrounded by layers of police looking to arrest me.
Don’t worry about it. Think about it.
Watch.
Plan.
Do it.
What comes after adrenaline?
I didn’t see much hurricane damage. I’d been to Fort DeSoto beach plenty of times. Those sunny days didn’t look all that different than now. Biggest difference was the ground. It was covered in wind-blown branches.
The Kith were stone cold stealing this beautiful, natural resource to create their own territory, free from rules and law. At least, our rule and law.
There had to be a good hundred-plus people already working this spread. Men worked survey markers into sand, land-leveling equipment, and semis filled with lumber. They were not messing around.
Laborers hustled supplies to different areas. Foremen referred to clipboards and pointed to drop-off points. A procession of materials and raw goods were moved in via a gap in the forest scrub—same direction as where we’d seen men dropping off supplies on Shell Key.
The operation was in full swing.
How was I going to stop this? There wasn’t anything to destroy yet.
The only way to stop the Kith was to stop Razook. I had to find him, hunt him, and kill him. Yes, it was the only way. He’d never be persuaded to change course. Ever. He’d never be persecuted because he owned the courts, or enough people tied to them to get off easy.
I’d live with Ilsa’s disappointment. At least, I’d be alive.
Where was Razook?
Follow the suits.
There—two men in biz duds standing on the beach. One had his hands up, demonstrating the future, the dream. Just picture it.
A flatbed hauler rattled across the pavement.
I walked. To where? There. Trees. I needed cover. I couldn’t just stand out in the middle of the parking lot. And, I couldn’t be seen ducking behind vehicles.
I arrived at a cluster of trees on the far side of the lot. The suits were still in view, discussing plans. I considered possibilities. What if they got in a car? How could I follow them? What if they went to the trailer? What if?…
Three men were two too many to handle. I needed to isolate and overpower one of them. Get the information. Rinse and repeat, until I had a lead on Razook’s location.
I moved closer to the suits—tree to tree, between cars, across the parking lot. Stop. Start. Wait.
One of the suits laughed.
“This place is gonna be so bad ass. But, we gotta bust our balls to get there,” said the blonde one.
“Remember what we’re working towards,” said the redhead.
“Anything goes.”
“Anything goes.”
They shook on it.
“I’m about to melt. Let’s get off this beach.”
Blondie walked towards the parking lot, towards me.
I drifted behind a cluster of sea grapes.
“Hey!”
A voice to my right, not one of the suits.
“Who are you?”
He wore the same soldier-type outfit as Clark.
“I’m taking a leak.” I pointed to the sea grapes.
His expression mixed suspicion with disgust. “Port-O potties are over there,” he pointed past me towards the suits.
“Just thought it’d be quicker to go here,” I said. “Lots to do.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Thanks.” I gave a wave and walked on, almost bumping into the suits. “‘Pardon me.”
They gave me a look, but let me pass.
“Hey, wait a minute.”
It was the guard.
I acted like I hadn’t heard him and ke
pt walking. He called again. A hand grabbed my arm. When I turned it was the blonde guy in the suit holding me for the guard who was walking over. He pointed at me. “Where’s your uniform?”
Not good.
“Wasn’t given one. Just came from the labor office up in St. Pete. They were out of shirts.”
“Doesn’t even look like a laborer,” said the redhead suit.
The guard grabbed my arm. “You need to come with me.”
“Want an assist?” said one of the suits.
The guard nodded and redhead grabbed my other arm.
“Come on,” said the guard.
They dragged me toward the portable office Tompkins had entered.
Redhead spoke to Blondie, “I’ll meet you at the car.”
I wanted to see inside that portable office. I didn’t want to be escorted there.
I slowed and dragged.
Their grips tightened.
“If everything’s like you say, you got nothing to worry about,” said the suit.
“It is,” I said. “But, I know how your team deals with people.”
They exchanged looks.
“Says who?” said the guard.
“Says me.”
I raked his arm with the kakute. Didn’t get a great grip. But, the ring was sharp enough to slash into the tender side of his forearm. He gasped and released.
The suit’s pause to size it all up was enough for me to shake loose and shove him to the ground. He fell on his back. His legs kicked up. I grabbed his ankle and dropped on top of him and pushed his face in the Florida sand to muffle his scream. His body convulsed in an effort to break loose or stop the pain or both.
No witnesses. Not even the suit’s partner who had a running car waiting down the sidewalk.
The security guard was weak and squeezed his wound in an effort to stop the bleeding.
I ran.
Blondie startled when I opened the driver’s side door. I shoulder-rammed him into the passenger seat before he could say a word.
He reached inside his jacket.
I raked his chest with the kakute.
Blood bloomed across the white cotton of his shirt. That forced him to grab his chest in anguish, which let me grab the .45 he had attempted to pull out of his coat.
The car was running. I put it in ‘drive’, and pressed the gas.
“Son of a bitch.”
“Calm down,” I said. “Let me take you to the hospital.”
“Wouldn’t have to go if you didn’t cut me.”
“It’s not the cut you need to worry about. Feel that sting?”
He nodded.
“It’s the poison on the tip.” I held up the ring.
His eyes went wide. Was I serious?
“Blue Povera oil, from the frog of the same name. Found exclusively in the Zazir mountain top jungles of Peru. You’re basically dead.”
His expression went blank.
“Unless I get you over to Pasadena Memorial in the next seven minutes.”
How’s that for persuasion? I’d gone from his aggressor to his savior in seconds. He’d do anything I wanted at this moment. And, to think I’d just made it all up and sold it as the truth. Naughty, naughty, Walt.
We drove past the security checkpoints.
“We good?” I said.
He nodded and cupped his hand tighter over his chest slashes. “Yes. Just drive. Please.” He was trembling.
I felt a little bad. Just a little. Maybe.
“Tell me about the build,” I said.
“What do you want to know?”
“Is it how it looked? Just getting started?”
“Yes.”
“But, that’s where they’re building the resort.”
“Yeah.”
“Tell me how it’s going down.”
He swallowed. “Please just drive man. I don’t want to die.”
“The car’s speed is directly proportionate to the flow of your info. They both speed up or they both slow down. Your choice.”
Blondie groaned.
“Come on, toughen up. They’re just cuts.”
“Deep cuts! Shit.” His voice went up to Level 3 desperation.
The bridge off the key was just ahead.
“Sit up,” I told him. “Remember, if you make them suspicious, they’ll stop this car and you’ll stop living.”
He sat up and nodded and did like he was told.
I stopped at the checkpoint. Same guard as when I came in.
“What happened to him?” said the guard.
“One of those dumbass work-for-hire bums got careless with a nail gun. Hit my man here across the chest. Taking him to Pasadena Memorial.”
“Hurry,” said Blondie.
I shrugged.
The guard waved us along.
“Well played,” I said with genuine admiration.
“I meant it.”
I accelerated to give him some peace of mind.
As we reached the turnoff onto Pinellas Bayway, I could see the makeshift police department where I was held prisoner. This was turning surreal.
I cut left, towards the beach, which was actually on the way to the hospital.
“Alright, talk,” I said. “While you can.”
I didn’t want to mention Razook yet.
“What do you want to know?”
“What’s the timeline?”
“For what?”
“For everything. The build. Spill it.”
“They’re prepping the foundation now. And, working round the clock to start the build.”
“Why’s that?”
“So, they can have it up before anyone starts to question it.”
“Who’s overseeing the build?”
“Winton.”
I nodded.
“You know him?”
“We’ve met.”
A lucky break: The toll bridge was free due to the storm. We reached the beach and hooked right onto Gulf Boulevard.
“Take me through the next few days,” I said.
It took effort. But, he did the best he could. “Level the land, set the foundation, including plumbing while supplies are shipped in.”
“Why not just drive them in?”
“Too obvious.”
“How’d you get to know all this?”
“I’m on the building committee.”
He held rank.
“What else?”
“They’re gonna prep the runway.”
“They’re putting in a runway?”
He shook his head. “No, just prepping that long stretch of road.”
I knew the one he’d meant. Where you turn off to head to the north island. It was brilliant. All they’d have to do is clear some trees to accommodate plane wings and chip off the ground reflectors.
“And, the bridge,” he said.
“What bridge?”
“One we just went over. Where the guard was.”
“What about it?”
“They’re blowing it today.”
“Blowing it? You mean up?”
He nodded and sniffed. The entire front of his shirt was crimson.
“What for? Why?”
“Privacy. Keep out.”
“So, the only way to get to the resort will be by boat?”
“And, plane.”
They’d thought of it all. A private island, excised from Florida during a state of emergency. And being on the water would make it easy to bring in guests—or get rid of the bodies, while keeping tourists out.
“You work directly for Winton?”
He coughed. “Are we almost there?”
I pointed to the road sign. It gave mileage and direction to Pasadena Memorial.
Blondie looked relieved.
“I’ll drive right past it, you don’t keep talking.”
“I told you everything.”
“No, you didn’t. Tell me about this guy, Gertz. Gary Gertz.”
“Talent agent?”
“Yea
h.”
Blondie shrugged. “Just helping bring in talent.” He gave a smug smile.
“That kind of talent?”
“That kind of talent.”
Bastards.
“This is the turn to the hospital,” he said.
I drove past it.
That was enough to make him sit up and paw at the window with his blood-slick palm. “You missed it! Go back!”
“Where’s Razook when all this is happening?”
“I’m not talking unless.…”
I hit the brakes and screeched the car into one of the roadside parking spots. It was only available because there had been a hurricane. Otherwise, it’d be occupied with a Canadian snowbird’s Chrysler.
“Come on, man. I’m dying here.”
“Yep.” I shoved his shoulder. “Talk. Razook. Where?”
“I can’t tell you that.” Remorse crept into his voice. It was clear he hated the thought of dying. But, he knew there were some things he just couldn’t do. He knew the consequences.
“You’re going to die if you don’t.”
He sagged in the seat.
“The hospital is right over there. Just a few blocks. And, by my count you have less than two minutes to get into an emergency room,” I said.
“He’ll be there for the bridge. That’s all I’ll tell you.”
“The bridge?”
“The one we crossed. With the guard.” He held up a fist and opened it while he said, “Boom”.
“And, Razook will be there.”
He zipped his lips shut. It smeared blood from cheek to cheek. He leaned his head back against the rest and shut his eyes.
“Rest in peace,” I said.
His body relaxed, ready and resigned to his fate.
The car went silent.
I pounded him in the gut.
His eyes burst open. Spittle shot from his mouth. He buckled forward. Enough so, that I was able to reach into his back pants pocket and grab his wallet. As he fell back, clutching his stomach and gasping for air, I patted his jacket. My knuckles rapped something rigid. I yanked his lapel back and fished inside the pocket. I’d found a rectangular piece of flat plastic with a dark stripe on the back of it. It was a hotel room key. It depicted sun and fun on the Florida beaches under the name of Del Sol Hotel. I knew of it. Nicest on the beach. Just up the road. I could see its crowned top from where I sat.
