Orchid Blues

47

Ham had dinner at the table with John and Peck. A pecking order seemed to have been established in the compound, and he figured, from the seating arrangements, that he was pretty near the top of it.

"Peck," John said, "you think you can find a bed for Ham in one of the houses?"

"Sure," Peck replied.

Ham raised a hand. "Listen, guys, I appreciate the thought, but I'm real comfortable in the bunkhouse. I've spent a big chunk of my life in barracks, and I like it." This was an outright lie. He'd spent as few nights in barracks as possible, and he didn't care if he ever spent another one there, but he had to be on the lakeshore when his people showed up with the phone, as he had no doubt they would do.

"Whatever you say, Ham," John replied. "As long as you're comfortable. If you change your mind, let me know."

"Okay," Ham said.

Harry, Holly and Doug, in the pickup truck, worked hard with the large-scale map and a flashlight to find a way to the eastern shore of Lake Winachobee. The dock didn't seem to have a real road leading to it, and they had been picking their way along overgrown lanes for more than two hours.

"The hell with the dock," Holly said. "It's after midnight, and we can launch the dinghy from the shore. I don't mind getting your feet wet."

"Thanks," Harry said.

"Just drive west until we end up in the lake," she said.

"I'm doing the best I can, Holly."

"There," she said, pointing to an opening that appeared in the headlight beams. "That track looks like a car might have once driven down it, and it's headed in the right direction."

Harry turned down it, and a deer ran across the road, nearly striking the truck. "That's all I need," he said.

Then the track opened into a clearing, and the starlight glinted on water.

"There!" Holly nearly shouted. "Douse the headlights."

Harry switched them off and stopped the truck. They sat and waited for their eyes to become accustomed to the darkness.

"Thank God there's no moon tonight," Harry said.

"Not yet, anyway," Doug replied. "We should have checked an almanac."

"Come on," Holly said, "let's get the boat into the water."

They got out and heaved the lightweight dinghy off the truck and to the lakeshore. Holly took off her shoes and rolled up her jeans. "Hand me the motor." She accepted it from Doug and clamped it to the stern of the dinghy. "You can handle the batteries," she said. "Put them side by side." She climbed into the dinghy.

Doug placed the batteries in the bottom of the boat and fixed the alligator clips to the terminals of one. "There you go," he said. "Are you sure you don't want company?"

"I can handle it alone."

"Look across there," Harry said, pointing. "The house with all the lights must be Peck's place. The barracks has to be farther along the shore to your left. I'd stay away from it, just use it as a landmark."

Harry suddenly grabbed at his belt. "My phone's ringing." He opened it. "Yeah?" He listened for a moment, then hung up. "Eddie says they've just broken up for the evening. The main house seems to be emptying out."

"How far do you reckon it is?" Holly asked.

"Three, maybe four miles, I'd guess. I think we're south of the putative dock."

Ham left Peck's house with four other men who were also quartered in the bunkhouse. None of them was over thirty, and they were talking excitedly about the group and their part in it. They reached the bunkhouse and began to unpack their things, placing their clothes in lockers. Ham took his time; he wanted them all asleep before him. With that in mind, he wrapped a towel around himself, went into the heads and took a long, hot shower.

When he came out, two of the boys were still talking quietly, but soon they drifted off, and the barracks was quiet. Ham checked his watch and waited for another hour before he made a move. He got silently out of bed, took a blanket and a pillow from the empty bunk next to his and walked quietly out the lakeside door. Once outside, he stopped and listened for a full two minutes to see if anyone was stirring inside the bunkhouse or outside. Hearing nothing, he made his way across a neatly trimmed lawn toward the lake. Once there, he stopped and listened again. His watch showed nearly half-past two in the morning.

Holly sat in the bottom of the dinghy, the motor humming quietly behind her, only her head and shoulders above the boat's gunwales. Peck's house had only one light now, and it appeared to be an outdoor lamp that stayed on all night. This was good, since it gave her a landmark. Then, as she made her way slowly across the lake, the moon began to rise, and this was not good. It was nearly three-quarters full, and it gave a lot more light than Holly needed or wanted. She reckoned she was a mile from shore now, and remembering that even small sounds carried across water, she switched off the little motor and let the boat drift. Then she made her way forward to the stem, knelt down and began paddling with an oar, using a J-stroke, the way she had been taught at Girl Scout camp, so that she wouldn't have to lift it from the water.

Ham hadn't noticed the motor until it was turned off, but when it went quiet, he knew what the sound had been. The moon was rising, and he didn't like that at all. He walked back to the bunkhouse and stuck his head inside the door. Four lumps lay inert in the bunks, one of them snoring softly. He went back to the lakeshore and, bothered by the moon, lay down on the blanket. He didn't want to be spotted in the moonlight.

Holly could see the dark outline of the bunkhouse, and she made for it, resisting the urge to paddle faster. Then, as she approached the shore from fifty yards out, two things happened. Ham, who had apparently been lying down, stood up. Then a light went on in the bunkhouse.