Breakwater

38

“It’s a beautiful afternoon.” Quinn gestured out the window of Oliver Crawford’s cheery, restful living room, the decor a total contrast to the moods of the people around her. “I don’t think you all will be sending me out kayaking and hoping I capsize and drown.”

Gerard Lattimore had sunk onto the sofa facing the view. “Quinn, don’t even say such a thing as a joke. No one’s going to harm you. Ollie? What’s going on here?”

Quinn didn’t let him answer. She was standing near the end of the sofa Gerard was sitting on, with Crawford opposite her. Her only plan was to keep them talking for as long as she could. “Ollie’s trying to figure out if I’m for real, or if I get to be made an example of,” she said. “He knows, Gerard. So do you, if you’ll just admit it. Traitors inside and outside the government will make our lives impossible in short order.”

Even Lubec, whom she’d almost convinced on the way from the marsh, didn’t look as if he believed her. He stayed near Crawford. Mosquito-bitten Sharon Riccardi was sipping champagne, not speaking. Her husband stood in the door to the front hall. Whether he was blocking an exit or making sure he was near one, she couldn’t tell.

Unfortunately, Quinn had no idea where Huck was. Until he showed up, or she had no choice but to act, she’d keep spewing the vigilante line and see how far she got with it.

“Alicia didn’t understand what you all are doing. What we’re doing.” Quinn let her voice harden, as if she had nothing to fear. “Killing her put you under the kind of scrutiny you don’t want. I’m not sure it was one of your smarter moves.”

“We didn’t kill her-she drowned.” Lubec’s voice was toneless, his eyes flat. He was the most difficult person to read Quinn had ever encountered. “She kayaked in a thunderstorm.”

Lattimore was ashen. “How can you be so cold?”

Lubec shrugged, as if it was nothing to him.

“My God, Ollie.” Gerard seemed totally shocked. “What’s happened to you?”

“I’ve come to my senses. I see the world and its dangers with a clarity I never have before. I’m willing to risk everything to save my freedoms. Your freedoms, Gerry.” Crawford sat back on the sofa, looking smug, if also nervous, even agitated. “What are you willing to risk?”

“You need help, Ollie.” Gerard shook his head sadly. “The kidnapping did something to you.”

“It only galvanized me into action. I learned we can’t have it both ways. I made a commitment. I’ve risked my fortune, my life. I operate outside of the rule of law only to save it. I have to violate the thing I love for the greater good. Do I sound insane to you?”

“No. You sound very rational.”

“Help us, Gerry. Join us.” Crawford sat forward, leaning over his knees. “Today we make our mark.”

Sharon took a gulp of champagne. “Oliver, let’s not scare anyone.” Her smile was halfhearted, ragged. “We love to talk politics, even extreme politics, but we haven’t broken any laws, no matter how much we disagree with them.”

Quinn interrupted, remembering her research. “I think you all need to get your own house in order before you undertake any further operations. For instance, Oliver, you and your right-hand woman here need to work on your communication. Did she tell you that she’s the one who arranged for you to be kidnapped?”

Sharon barely responded. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You’re good, Quinn.” Oliver Crawford sounded almost sympathetic. “Trying to turn us against each other-”

“I’m serious. How did the thugs know where to find you? Hasn’t that little question been keeping you awake at night? I’ll bet my green kayak that it has. And how did Lubec here know where to find you when he came to your rescue? And where to find these guys so they could be tortured and executed?” Quinn pointed a finger at Sharon Riccardi. “Right there. She arranged it all.”

“Oliver, don’t listen to her,” Sharon urged. “You’re the risk-taker. Look at what you’re doing today. You know I’m against it. I think it’s too much when we’re just starting. You’ve said yourself that in many ways the kidnapping was the best thing that ever happened to you. It gave you clarity.”

“That’s what she wanted, for you to have ‘clarity.’” Quinn kept her tone matter-of-fact. “You’re scared witless, beaten, half starved, threatened with death, and she’s pulling the strings on all of it.”

“Travis,” Sharon said coldly, “take Miss Harlowe-”

Oliver held up a hand. “Not just yet.”

Quinn, her heart racing, faked a yawn. “You all are such amateurs. I thought you were real players. You have to get with the program here.”

But the boss wasn’t listening. He was staring at the woman he’d trusted with his life. “ Sharon?”

She smashed her glass down onto a side table. “Oh, stop. Stop! I’ve been at this a lot longer than you have, Oliver. I know what’s at stake. We were cash-strapped after that mess last fall. We had every law enforcement officer in the country looking for us. We needed you to get off the fence. I knew once you got a taste of what we were up against, you’d come through for us.”

Oliver Crawford jumped to his feet and turned to the window, apparently trusting someone, Quinn thought, to keep Sharon Riccardi from shooting him in the back. At the hall door, Joe Riccardi was stiff and silent. Quinn suspected he was armed-and on her side.

Gerard Lattimore looked as if he was about to have a heart attack.

Sharon was near tears. “You give the orders, Oliver. You always have. Things are out of control. Call off the hits you ordered. We have to be patient. We have to pick our battles or we lose the war-”

“My God,” Crawford whispered, “my kidnapping-it was your doing.”

She spun to Lubec. “Travis?”

“Mr. Crawford gives the orders.”

“Joe?” With a quivering lower lip, Sharon Riccardi turned to her husband. “You’ll stand by me, won’t you? I know you’re not a part of our movement, not officially. In your heart-”

“No, Sharon.” He shook his head. “I came here to do a legitimate job. I’m not some psycho making up the rules as I go along.”

“Bastard.”

He ducked into the hall. Travis started to follow him, but Quinn stepped in front of him, aware of Lattimore on the sofa, frozen, staring at her. She had no idea if he’d help keep everyone off balance, talking, instead of shooting-but she couldn’t wait for him to make up his mind. “Travis, you didn’t switch the meds, did you? My prescription-strength ibuprofen for an SSRI-”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Travis replied.

“No, that was Sharon, wasn’t it?” Quinn pressed on. “She wanted Alicia agitated and upset. Her husband-” Quinn turned, trying to keep both Lubec and Sharon in sight. “ Sharon, you said he used to run through the marsh. You followed his same route last night. You’d had too much to drink-”

“I didn’t follow his route. I followed a path through the marsh.” She raised her chin, defiant. “Yes, I was a little drunk. I had a lot on my mind. Oliver-”

“You let Alicia take a medication to which she was allergic, thinking it was ibuprofen?” Oliver shouted. “Why? What was the point? She was so agitated, so out of control-” Crawford staggered toward Sharon, fighting a sob. “She wasn’t a real danger to us until then. I couldn’t risk-” He raked both hands through his hair. “Having her in that state was too great a risk. She knew too much.”

“Not because of me,” Sharon said, hoarse now. “Because of Joe.”

“Oh, I get it.” Quinn acted as if the realization had just hit her. “Alicia wasn’t having an affair with your boss. She was sleeping with your husband.”

Sharon took two steps forward and slapped Quinn across the face, a crisp smack that stung, then flew around to face Oliver. “You killed her?”

“We let her die,” he confessed. “It had to be done.”

“Oliver-” Gerard’s voice was strangled. “You’ve gone off the edge.”

His eyes shining with conviction, Crawford pleaded with him. “Help us, Gerry. Join us.”

Lattimore looked away, as if he couldn’t stand the sight of his longtime friend another second. “I have no intention of helping you or joining you.”

“All right. Have it your way.” Crawford stood up straight, deflated. “Travis, take Mr. Lattimore back to his yacht. I’ll trust in our friendship and his own self-interest that he’ll keep what we said here today private.”

Quinn moved in front of her former boss. If he went off with Travis Lubec, Lattimore was dead. “Wait, let me try talking to him.” She saw Huck enter the room from the same hall she had used earlier, his gun drawn. “Huck, why don’t you and I take Gerard out of here and have a talk with him?”

His eyes connected with hers for half a second, just enough for her to know he understood the situation. “Vern and Rochester are on the way,” he said, moving toward her. “Is everything okay in here?”

Sharon slumped with relief. “We’ve had something of a miscommunication here.”

“I’ll say.” Quinn touched her cheek where Sharon had smacked her. “It seems Sharon and Oliver aren’t on the same page. She had him kidnapped and tried to undermine her husband’s affair with Alicia by making her crazy, but Oliver also went behind Sharon ’s back-”

“Sounds complicated,” Huck said, easing toward Travis Lubec.

“Don’t listen to her,” Sharon said. “Oliver and I are a team. Oliver, call off the hits you ordered. The feds are fumbling in the dark, wondering who we are. Don’t give them a reason to pursue us until we drop dead of old age.”

Quinn could see Oliver losing patience. “How close do you think the feds are to figuring you out?”

Sharon scowled in disdain. “Not as close as they think.”

Huck leveled his weapon on Lubec. “How about this close, princess? Lubec-hands where I can see them. I’m a federal agent. Another federal agent is behind Joe Riccardi, armed with an MP5. You do not want to make a move for your weapon.”

“Fuck you both,” Lubec said.

Sharon Riccardi turned white. “You son of a bitch, Boone. You liar.”

Huck disarmed Lubec of a gun in a shoulder holster and an assault knife in a sheath on his ankle. On the sofa, Lattimore sat frozen, but Quinn could see he had a good grasp of the situation and didn’t believe she’d turned into a vigilante.

From the hall door, Joe Riccardi said calmly, “ Sharon wears a twenty-two on her ankle. Crawford isn’t armed. He believes only his subordinates should have weapons.”

Diego Clemente stepped past the retired army colonel and lifted the hem of Sharon Riccardi’s long, rose-colored skirt. “I have the proper permits,” she said coldly. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

Lattimore cleared his throat, staring at Huck. “Who are you?”

“Deputy U.S. Marshal Huck McCabe, sir.” He nodded to his partner, who had moved to pat down Oliver Crawford as a precaution. “That’s Deputy Clemente.”

“What about Kowalski?”

“He’ll be here shortly.”

Lattimore, who obviously had used up any reserves, collapsed against the back of the sofa, his face blank as he stared at his former college roommate.

“Thank God.” Oliver Crawford’s hands shook as he held them above his head. “Boone-whatever your name is. I knew you couldn’t be on the same side as these crazy bastards. I had a vague idea what Sharon was up to, but no details. She had me kidnapped. I had to draw her out into the open. Quinn and I played along with her vigilante line-”

Before Crawford went any further, Diego arrested him and read him his rights.

“Quinn?” Huck kept his eyes on Lubec. “You okay?”

“Still smarting from Sharon ’s slap. I haven’t been hit that hard, ever.”

“You’ve been in the bay again?”

“Kayaking.” She thought a moment, then continued, steadier. “Alicia sealed evidence in a waterproof bag and hid it in the water under the osprey nest out by my cottage. The medication she was taking. And pictures-pictures of illegal weapons and explosives.” Quinn glanced at Joe Riccardi. “You gave them to her.”

Riccardi’s nostrils flared slightly. “Alicia said she’d get them to the right people. I didn’t know-” His eyes filled with tears. “I never should have used her that way. I didn’t want to tip off Sharon and Crawford I was onto them-I wanted to get as much evidence against them as I could. I only knew about the illegal weapons and their extreme views-not the rest of it. The kidnapping, the torture and murder.”

“You thought you could help,” Quinn said.

“We wanted to nail them, Alicia and I. They suspended shipments of illegal weapons. They knew someone was getting close. I thought if I bided my time…” He sighed heavily, drained. “I never thought they’d kill Alicia.”

Kowalski arrived. In minutes the place was flooded with federal agents. Joe Riccardi sank onto a chair, buried his face in his hands and cried.

Sharon Riccardi spit on her husband as Huck placed handcuffs on her.

After he turned Sharon over to another federal agent, Huck stood next to Quinn and smiled. “You’re still red where you got smacked.”

“She’s lucky I can’t shoot. If I could-”

“You can’t shoot, sweet pea, but you sure can talk.” He winked at her. “You did great. You kept them off balance, and you kept yourself and Lattimore here. You isolated the situation as best you could.”

Quinn nodded. “What about Nate Winter, Juliet Longstreet-the people Crawford sent his killers after-”

T.J. Kowalski answered. “They’re fine.” He smiled. “You okay, Special Agent Harlowe?”

She managed a smile. “What happened to Steve?”

“On his way to the hospital,” Kowalski said. “He wants to cut a deal, but he doesn’t know half of what you’ve figured out. Lubec has pictures of him and a congressman’s fifteen-year-old daughter.” The FBI agent made a face, disgusted. “Yeah. Can’t wait to see those.”

He pulled Huck away, and Quinn shivered, suddenly aware of how cold she was. Diego Clemente appeared at her side and put a blanket over her shoulders. “ Cashmere,” he said. “Ollie’s going to have quite a comedown when he gets to prison.”

“He and Gerard-”

“Not such good friends after all.” Diego tilted his head back, eyeing her. “You and McCabe, huh?”

“I might just be a fling,” Quinn said. “A stress reliever.”

“Stress reliever? You, Harlowe?” He grinned. “I don’t think so. Wait until you meet Huck’s family. You two need to spend a few days at the McCabe family hotel. The towels are something.”

Quinn tucked her hands under the blanket, trying to get warm. “I want my office and normalcy.”

Huck joined them and gave her a skeptical look. “Sure you do.”