First Drop

Twenty-five

The element of surprise Sean achieved was absolute. Haines didn’t even have time to gasp as he went under. Mason was the one who got to shout but, wounded and unarmed, there was little more he could do.

A moment later the two of them broke the surface again, fighting over the shotgun which Haines had kept a tight hold of despite the shock of the attack. He was putting up a ferocious struggle but he’d been trained as a policeman, where Sean had been trained as a soldier and there was a big difference.

Besides, Sean had passion driving him on. A cold hard flame of rage that made him far more deadly and more dangerous.

I heaved Whitmarsh closer to the tree-line, then abandoned him to Keith and Trey’s care and waded back towards the two men. I was in time to see Sean yank Haines close and headbutt him. Haines’s nose broke with an audible crunch and he let go of the Mossberg, falling back into the water.

For a second I expected Sean to turn the gun on him, to force him to surrender, but with a snarl he threw the weapon away behind him and went for Haines with his bare hands.

And that’s when I got really scared.

“Sean!” I yelled. “For Christ’s sake don’t do this.”

Sean turned his head and looked straight through me.

It was like staring at a man turned vampire and realising that although the face was familiar, the soul had been taken. That what was left was cold and empty and not quite human any more.

The sound of the second airboat was growing louder by the minute. A high-wattage searchlight beam flashed across Mason, making him wince and put up a hand to protect his eyes.

“Don’t move!” boomed a megaphone-enhanced voice. “This is the FBI!”

We were shielded from their approach by the hull of Mason’s boat so I ignored the instruction, lurching closer to Sean. He was holding Haines under the water now, forearms rigid with the effort of keeping him there as he thrashed and twisted. I couldn’t tell from the position of his hands if Sean was strangling the man or simply drowning him.

Either way, it was murder now.

I thought again of Haines calmly pulling the trigger on the woman in the theme park. I remembered the satisfaction in his voice when he’d admitted torturing and killing Henry. I could well imagine him standing behind Sean’s kneeling figure with the Smith & Wesson aimed at the back of his skull. And I could just see him smiling while he did it.

But it wasn’t Haines I was trying to protect.

“Sean,” I said again, more quietly now. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

For a moment he didn’t respond, then he relaxed his shoulders and brought his hands out of the water and I thought I’d got through to him.

But as he did so I realised that Haines had ceased to struggle. He bobbed to the surface and floated lifeless between us, eyes and mouth wide. The swamp water lapped gently into his open throat.

“Sorry Charlie,” Sean said tightly. He sounded weary, but there wasn’t a hint of regret in his voice. “You’re too late.”

And I couldn’t find it in myself to be sorry, either.

We both turned, just as the new airboat arrived with a flourish alongside Mason’s stricken craft. The wash nearly swept the pair of us off our feet.

Half a dozen black-clad figures with machine pistols jumped from one boat to the other, their boots clattering loudly on the aluminium. They had flashlights attached to their guns and a number pointed them at Mason but he didn’t put up any resistance. In the crossed beams I could now see that one arm of his chair was slick with blood and he could hardly even raise both hands. They had to help him down.

Other hands reached over the side towards us.

“Wait,” I said. “We’ve a man injured here.”

Sean cast me a quick glance but I waded back over to Whitmarsh and between us we managed to get him close enough to the airboat for them to grab him and haul him in like a loaded trawler net. He was unconscious and bleeding but they started work on him right away with the urgency to suggest they thought he might survive.

Lonnie and Keith came staggering out of the trees then, still carrying their makeshift clubs. The FBI men were jumpy enough to insist they jettisoned the branches before they’d take them into the boat.

I waited until they’d got Trey out of the water before I accepted help. It was only then, when everyone else was on board, that Sean pushed Haines’s body close enough to be retrieved.

I thought he was being practical, logical, and then it struck me that he’d just been making sure there was no chance of them being able to revive him.

And all the time, around us in the shadows I could hear the rapid movement of the alligators, driven to a frenzy of distraction by the blood in the water. The sudden fear of what might have been bloomed and spread through my imagination faster than I could keep pace with it. And I’d always thought that rats were my biggest phobia.

The reaction started to crowd in then, setting up a trembling in my hands that I had little control over. I sat slumped in the bottom of the airboat, not caring that there were still suspicious guns held over me.

“Well, I guess you’re kinda ready to give yourself up now, missy?” said a voice over the top of me.

I raised my head enough to see Special Agent in Charge Till standing above me. His hands were on his hips.

“Not yet,” I said, with last-ditch bravado I didn’t really feel. “There’s still Brown.”

He nodded. “We’re working on that,” he said. His gaze shifted to Sean, eyeing him warily. “So you must be Meyer. Well, I have to say that for a dead guy you’re looking pretty healthy.”

Sean didn’t reply to that. He sat alongside me with his forearms resting on his knees and his hands hanging relaxed. The two of them stared at each other but maybe they were too similar in nature to ever be comfortable in such close proximity.

“Don’t tell me – you just happened to be in the neighbourhood,” I said.

Till tore his gaze away from Sean with difficulty. “We found your tape, missy,” he said. “Got the whole thing. Recording’s a little fuzzy maybe but the lab boys reckon they can clean it up some and it’ll go down a storm at the trial.”

“You can thank your Uncle Walt for that,” I said.

“Thank him yourself,” Till said, jerking his head over his shoulder.

I followed his gaze and saw that it was Walt who was driving the second airboat. The old man gave me a nod and sketched a casual salute.

“You brought your uncle on a trip like this?” I said blankly.

Till shrugged, a little embarrassed. “We found him staking out the front gate when we got here,” he admitted, “and we needed someone who could handle an airboat.”

I looked at Walt. “I told you I’d find my own way back,” I said.

He shrugged. “I had nothing else doing.”

Till ran his eye across the other faces his men had pulled out of the swamp and paused when he came to Keith.

“Although I have your confession on record, Mr Pelzner,” he said with a touch of that grim humour, “I’m kinda assuming that you didn’t actually murder your wife.”

Keith opened his mouth a few times, floundering. “Um, I―”

Till smiled. “Don’t sweat it,” he said. “I kinda understand that you were under duress at the time.”

“So, like, where is she?” Trey demanded. “What happened to her?”

Keith’s shoulders bowed even further. “She really did leave, Trey,” he said mournfully. I knew he was trying to be gentle about it but it came across as self-pity instead. “She just upped and left the both of us. The divorce papers arrived from Nowheresville, Ohio. She didn’t even ask for custody.”

Trey looked down at his hands, clasped in front of him, and bit his lip. I scowled at Keith. If he’d had anything about him he’d have left out that last little piece of information, given the boy something he could still cling to.

Keith twisted and put his hand on Trey’s shoulder, gave it a pat. “I’m real sorry, son,” he said. “I know how much she meant to you, but it’s just you and me now.”

Trey looked up at him, tears forming in his eyes, and just for a second I thought he was going to fold.

“You gotta be joking,” he snapped, lip curling as he ducked out from under his father’s hand. “You were gonna sell me out. I’d rather end up in Juvenile Hall than stay with you, you bastard.”

His bottom lip began to quiver. He turned his filling eyes on me. “Why can’t I stay with Charlie?”

I put my hands up. “Whoa,” I said, more sharply than I’d intended. “That is not an option.”

“Well I’m not staying with him and you can’t make me!” Trey said, a little wildly now, but his face was obstinate. There’d be no shifting him on this one.

Till looked uncomfortable at this display of teenage angst. “Well, I guess we can call in Child Services until we get this one sorted out,” he said, his voice dubious.

Trey’s lip quivered all the more. I felt like I’d just shot Bambi’s mother.

“Don’t worry, Trey,” Walt said then. “You’re welcome to come stay with me and Harriet just as long as you need.”

I tried not to make my relief too obvious. The kid had had enough shocks and rejections for one day. Still, what was one more?

Once Till’s men had Whitmarsh, Lonnie and Mason roughly patched up, we all transferred to the undamaged airboat and took the other under tow. I mentioned the black guy Lonnie had dispatched, but it was almost completely dark out on the swamp now and, as none of us could accurately pinpoint his location, Till was reluctant to start a full-scale search.

“First light tomorrow will be soon enough to look for the remains,” he said.

I wondered if he’d chosen those particular words deliberately. The way the alligators had been going at the body, there wasn’t going to be much left to find.

Conversation became difficult once we were under way but I needed more answers out of Till, even so.

“So when are you planning on picking up Brown?” I shouted over the roar of the engine.

He glanced at me, irritated, but said, “He’s making a speech for his fancy clients at the clubhouse right now. My boys have got the place under surveillance. Soon as we get back to the dock we’ll go get him.”

“I want to be there,” I said.

“No way, missy,” Till shot back. “I am not taking civilians on an operation like this.”

I couldn’t help my gaze straying over his shoulder to where Walt was piloting the airboat with the easy skill of long association. I don’t know if he could have heard what we were saying, but the old man gave me one of his crinkled-up smiles.

Till caught the gesture. “Oh no, no,” he said quickly. “That’s way different.”

I raised my eyebrows but didn’t argue further. Not yet.

Sean was sitting next to me, staring at nothing. As I watched, his hands flexed briefly, just once, as though reliving the moment they’d finished off Haines. He still had the bloody lines around his wrists. A reminder of his captivity, his helplessness.

I wished I knew what thoughts were going round inside his head but he’d got them buttoned down tight. As though aware of my silent scrutiny he turned his head slightly and met my eyes. He didn’t need No Entry signs and barbed wire to warn me that I should keep out. I didn’t try to go against him.

Maybe we both needed a little time to come to terms with all of this.

***

More FBI men, with lights and vans and a paramedic ambulance, were waiting for us on the small dockside when Walt brought the two airboats alongside. As soon as the lines were secured and the engine cut, Till jumped out. He immediately started throwing quick and efficient orders to people who appeared by his side then melted away again. It was a pleasure to watch such oiled machinery at work.

They took Whitmarsh away on a stretcher with an oxygen mask strapped to his face. They stabilised Lonnie’s smashed arm and bundled him in, too. Somebody appeared with blankets for the rest of us which they draped around our shoulders. How on earth did they know to bring so many blankets, for heaven’s sake?

Sean and I stood with Trey and let the mêlée ebb and flow around us. I noticed Walt accost his nephew at one point. I don’t know what was said but if the body language was anything to go by, Walt won the argument. Till looked vaguely annoyed as he came back over to us.

“OK,” he said. “I’m sticking my neck out here and there’ll be hell to pay but if you want to be in at the finish, let’s go.”

We were on the move before he’d even finished speaking.

“Not you, Trey,” I said as he made to join us.

“Aw, c’mon,” Trey complained. “I deserve to be there, too.”

“You’ll get to hear all about it later,” Walt told him. “Let’s let these good people go do their job, huh?”

I expected the kid to put up more of a fight than that but he just nodded and hung his head. Walt put an arm around his shoulders and after a moment’s hesitation Trey leaned in to him. There was something right about the two of them, standing there like that. If Trey was serious about severing his ties with his father, I reflected, he could do a lot worse than Walt as a surrogate.

Till had already jumped into the passenger side of a dark nondescript saloon and Sean and I jogged across to take the rear seat. The driver gunned the engine and we headed back up the rough track towards Livingston Brown’s luxury resort. The lights of at least two other cars followed behind us.

I sat forward in order to talk to Till. “So you found Gerri’s body,” I said.

He twisted in his seat. “Yeah, and for a little while we thought you were the most likely candidate for the job,” he said. “Until we found that recorder in your bag, that is. I gotta hand it to you, Charlie, that tape was pure dynamite.”

“Will it be enough to definitely nail Brown for the shooting?”

“Oh yeah, no doubt about that. With that and the other evidence we’ve uncovered, he won’t see daylight again.”

“What other evidence?” Sean asked.

“Turns out Brown was investing heavily in the software company Pelzner worked for,” Till said. “He didn’t just want the program, he wanted the whole nine yards. Hardly surprising considering if that program ever hit the market, they’d all be billionaires. Only problem was, Brown didn’t have the money to pay the going price. In fact, he’s practically broke.”

It was hard to keep focused on him when we were bouncing around over every pothole. I held on to the seat in front of me and tried not to clout my head against the roof of the car. It was like being back on that damned rollercoaster ride with Trey.

“So,” Till went on, “it looks like he was trying to destabilise the company, arranging sabotage of property and intimidation of the staff. It all helps rock the boat. I should imagine that’s why Ms Raybourn called in you guys.”

Sean nodded.

“The company owner told us that he also secretly leaked some advance news of the program to the financial press, trying to keep the stock price up,” Till went on. “Our guess is that’s when Brown cooked up the scheme to make it look like Pelzner had run out on the deal.”

“But they messed it up,” Sean said.

Now it was Till’s turn to nod. “Oh yeah, they messed it up all right,” he said. He glanced at me, his expression brooding. “I suppose that’s all thanks to missy here.”

“And then he found out that Keith couldn’t make the program work, after all,” I put in. “And it was just a case of stopping us falling into the wrong hands and then getting rid of us as fast as possible.”

“Well he sure left a trail of destruction trying to do just that,” he replied. It’s gonna take months just to fill out all the paperwork.”

I smiled. “But then Whitmarsh found out from Henry that Trey might just hold the key.”

“Which he doesn’t.”

“I wasn’t there for this part,” Sean said. “Who’s Henry?”

“I’ll tell you later,” I said. There would be plenty of time for talking later. I turned back to the FBI man. “So do I assume from all this that we’re more or less off the hook.”

He favoured me with a slow appraisal. “Sure looks that way,” he said. “Particularly if you was to agree to give evidence in court.”

I sat back in my seat. “Well how about that?” I murmured with more than a hint of irony in my tone. “Chief suspect to star witness all in the same day.”

***

The first person I saw when we walked through the main entrance doors to the clubhouse was Randy, the time-share salesman I’d hijacked to get to Brown.

He did a classic double-take. First at the fact that both Sean and I were coated in slime and leaving a wet muddy trail across the tiles behind us. And second when he recognised me underneath it all.

“Oh my God,” he yelped, “somebody call the cops!”

“No need, sir, she’s with me,” Till said, flashing his official ID. “Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

“FBI? You’re with the FBI?” Randy repeated, looking dazed. He blushed at the memory of what he’d tried to do with me up against a filing cabinet. “Am I under arrest?”

Till sighed. “Just take us to Mr Brown,” he said.

Randy led the way with much more eagerness than he’d shown last time I was there. He eventually stopped just outside a pair of large double doors with a plaque on one that said Party Room. By the sounds of it Brown was just rounding off his big welcome speech on the other side. Nobody listening to the old guy’s melodious voice would ever guess he was a vicious murderer.

Till spoke fast and low into his radio, then issued brief instructions to the men he had with him. They all seemed to know the drill without needing long explanations, in any case.

When the moment came they kicked the doors open and went in at a run. There were a few squeals and shrieks from the assembled crowd, but mostly it was all over before anyone had the time to get excited.

It was only then that Sean and I were allowed into the room. Several hundred pairs of shocked and bewildered eyes followed our entrance, but the most stunned belonged to the harmless-looking old guy with the wispy grey hair, currently face down on the floor with two FBI men on top of him, cuffing his hands behind his back.

Brown was loudly announcing his outrage at this manhandling and, I considered, was making a pretty convincing show of wronged innocence along the way.

“You don’t begin to have the right to treat me this way,” he protested, sounding hurt and a little self-righteous, just as he would if he was truly blameless. “You don’t have a single shred of evidence against me.”

“Oh I’m afraid we do, Mr Brown,” Till said. “Not only do we have a boatload of witnesses, as it were, but thanks to this little lady here we even have a tape recording of you actually in the act of carrying out a homicide. In fact, we got so much on you it’s gonna take from now ‘til Thanksgiving just to file the charges.”

Brown managed to turn his head enough to look right at me. The surprise on his face was followed quickly by disgust. Not for me, I realised, but for himself. That he’d been fooled.

“She was just a girl,” he muttered as Till’s men dragged him to his feet. The disbelief was a faint tinge around the edges of his voice. His eyes slid to Sean and then back again to me. “She was Meyer’s goddamn girlfriend. A nobody . . .”

Special Agent in Charge Till put a hold on his satisfaction just sufficiently to give me his own brief, sombre appraisal. He took in the sodden filthy shirt and the matted tangle of revolting pink hair. And he saw that above it all I was still standing, still in there. Right to the bitter end.

He nodded to me, just once, and turned back to his prisoner.

“Yeah,” he said, and his stern face cracked into the first genuine piece of emotion I’d seen him display. A big grin. His voice had never sounded so laconic, so laid back as it did then.

“I guess if you was a stupid man,” he said, “you might just make the mistake of thinking that.”