Leeward

by D. Edward Bradley

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Sunday, November 25, St. Barbe’s

  Jon woke up on Sunday after a tortured night of half-sleep. He had been fighting an apparently endless mental battle over meeting Josie again, especially in the company of Crispin. It was six in the morning by the time he made up his mind to face the problem head-on and go to the airport with the Judge and Meg. It would be a difficult meeting, but better there than in the close confines of someone’s hotel room. He was a fairly good actor, at least good enough to keep the affair under wraps, and he hoped for everyone’s sake that Josie and Crispin would make the same effort. He would have been happier if Anna and Trilby were going as well, but Meg told him at breakfast that they were staying behind to phone Heidelberg for the latest news.

  Meg, Jon and Judge Winchester arrived at the terminal early, and were waiting for Josie’s plane in the spectators’ area on the roof. They watched a light plane taxi to the end of the runway and lift off.

  “As soon as that Cessna’s out of the way, they should be able to land,” commented Jon.

  The weather was calm, sunny, and warm. With the Cessna clear of the flight path, the incoming Dash 8 would make its approach from the northeast over the sea, which was simpler than arriving overland from the southwest.

  “I can’t wait to hear what they have to tell us,” said the Judge. “It sounds as though The Organization has a strong foothold in our government, and yet no one has pieced together anything concrete from all the rumors.” They were alone on the roof so he was able to speak freely.

  Jon was staring down the runway. “We’ll soon know the worst or the best, depending on which way you look at it.” By this time, his anxiety about seeing Josie again had reached an almost unbearable level, and his mind was being assaulted by incomprehensible feelings. Fearful lest Meg and the Judge became aware of his emotional turmoil, he drifted away to a corner of the roof.

  A few minutes later, Judge Winchester saw a dot materialize against the azure sky and transform itself into an aircraft. Its gear was down in preparation for landing. He hardly noticed that Meg had taken his hand. “They’ve done a marvelous job,” she said. “It sounds like they have enough information to put half the US Government behind bars.”

  “That remains to be seen, Meg. The ways of our bureaucratic system are mysterious to say the least.”

  The engines throttled back as the plane approached the sand dunes, and the three watchers gazed idly as it slowly descended toward the beacons that marked the far end of the runway. There was no warning. A faint orange glow seemed to emanate from one of the landing lights next to the right-hand engine, but lasted for only a second or two. Then it blossomed into a searing flame which engulfed the whole aircraft. The Judge’s mind refused to accept what he saw—at first, the fire, then a blinding white flash. He expected the Dash 8 to emerge from the billowing black cloud that ensued. Instead, pieces of wreckage trailing flames and dirty brown smoke, arched away from the center of the blast. Just as the distant roar of the explosion reached his ears, the burning cabin, no longer identifiable as such, crashed to the ground. A severed wing containing the remaining fuel tank blossomed into a fireball, then exploded on impact, spraying burning fuel over the sand dunes.

  It took a few moments for Judge Winchester to realize that the unthinkable had happened. The last of his family was gone. Mercifully the image of his daughter’s fiery death had no time to manifest itself. His mind, already overstressed from weeks of intense worry, simply shut down. Meg cradled his head to her breast, tears streaming from her eyes.

  Jon felt faint. One moment Josie was there, and the next, she wasn’t. Never mind the fact that she had been arriving with Crispin, and never mind the fact that they must have made love many times since he left Boston. The truth was that he still felt something inside him, something which drew him to her. He held onto the low wall surrounding the roof, his knuckles white. She was gone. It was done. The lovers had been turned to ashes, and spread over the sand dunes with those of the other passengers.

  “Jon!” cried Meg.

  His mind reeling, Jon turned to see Meg sitting on the rooftop with the Judge’s head in her lap.

  “Jon! Please get some help!”

  Without hesitating, he leaned over to the Judge, and saw that he was breathing.

  “I think he’s all right. It’s shock. I’ll go and find something to bring him round and we’ll take him back to the hotel.”

  “Jon! Oh, Jon! Shouldn’t we stay?”

  “No.” Jon straightened up and looked past the pall of smoke to the sea. “Let’s get him out of here.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Wednesday, November 28, St. Barbe’s

  It had been a terrible three days. Judge Winchester was kept sedated in his room at the Holiday Inn for twenty-four hours, and Meg, who was in a state of emotional upheaval herself, stayed with him during the day. Jon was assailed by mixed feelings that he was quite unable to understand. In his bitterness, one part of him was almost glad that Josie was dead, having paid the price for what she had done to him. But the other nobler part began to miss her brightness and beauty, and the empathy they had once shared. Anna and Trilby had only known Josie for a short time, but they too were touched by her death.

  While investigators combed through what was left of the Dash 8, the visitors at the Holiday Inn were the only ones on the island who could make an informed guess as to the cause of the crash. They were shocked by the ability of The Organization to plant a bomb with such ease and effectiveness. Anna pointed out to Trilby that their technical staff had probably used some device to confound the crash investigators, ensuring that no one would ever know the aircraft had been sabotaged.

  Trilby phoned Dougal in Heidelberg with the news, then decided to return to Jamaica for a few days. This course of action would mean missing the planned demise of the Guard, which he had anticipated with a certain degree of pleasure, but he had to write a detailed report for Larsen about the hurricane and the plane crash. It would have to originate in Jamaica and go through the correct channels, but that done, he would be free to come back to St. Barbe’s if needed.

  For Jon, this day would be far from uneventful. The attempt on the Guard had been planned for some time, and would undoubtedly take his mind off things. Rodney’s brother, Joshua, had agreed to replace Trilby on the expedition, and Norton Grinder phoned the day before to tell Jon that he had obtained a .300 hunting rifle. He had also found some hollow-tipped bullets, and a few No.1 cartridges for his ancient twelve-bore. These contained a single ball, which, while inaccurate at any great distance, provided considerable stopping power at close range.

  “What sort of close range?” Jon had asked dubiously.

  “You could probably kill a bear at thirty feet if you got it in the right place,” Norton Grinder replied. “Or so the man said.”

  Jon didn’t relish the idea of getting that close to the Guard again, and had shuddered at the vivid memories of his previous encounter. Two weapons between three people were definitely insufficient.

  Jon ate an early breakfast, and drove out to Saddles. When he pulled up outside the store, there was Norton Grinder, grinning broadly, and waving a red cardboard tube.

  “More weapons!” he cried. “I have four thunderflashes!”

  Jon slammed the car door behind him. “What the hell are they, fireworks?”

  “If you must call them that, my man. They’re used in military exercises.”

  Jon groaned. “I guess we could find a use for them. The bangers would frighten the brute if nothing else, that’s assuming they make a loud enough noise.”

  Norton fished a cigarette lighter from his pocket. “Oh, they make a bang okay. Want a demonstration?”

  “Jesus, you idiot, not here!” Jon shouted. “You’ll have the whole damn village after us!”

  Norton grunted, which presumably meant he had forgotten where he was, and they went inside to join Joshua, who found three mugs and filled them
with strong coffee.

  “Let’s go over the plan,” said Jon. “There’s no point in crashing around in the rain forest without a proper objective.”

  “Okay, the Guard attacked you at the reservoir, so it probably hangs out around there.”

  “Unless it just wanted a drink,” said Norton. “If I remember rightly it was put on the mountain to guard the cave, and that’s where my bloody thunderflashes come in.” He thumped his fist triumphantly on the store counter. “See, I’m not just a pretty face.”

  “Bloody right!” cried Joshua.

  Jon smiled. “I guess you want to throw one into the cave and hope it frightens the monster out, in which case, we could place someone with the hunting rifle about fifty feet from the entrance. Norton could take the twelve-bore close in and a bit to one side so he’s out of the line of fire. That way, if the hunting rifle jams or something, there’ll be a backup weapon to do the job. If not, they could both be fired at the same time.” He paused to take a gulp of coffee. “Wait a minute, how about if the person with the shotgun and the person tossing the banger were stationed together just outside the entrance? Then the twelve-bore could open up first and the hunting rifle later.”

  “That’s definitely a lot safer for the poor bugger with the fireworks,” said Joshua. “Without a backup, he’d be a lot too close to the cave for comfort.”

  “The thunderflash fuse is ten seconds.” Norton Grinder grinned at Joshua. “How far could you run after throwing it into the entrance?”

  “Better ask yourself,” was Joshua’s reply. “You got the fireworks, you toss ’em in.”

  Jon held up his hand. “Calm down you guys. I can run faster than either of you. I’ll do it.”

  “I’m handy with my own twelve-bore,” said Norton Grinder. “I’ll go with Jon.”

  “Are you a good shot, Josh?”

  “I’ve used a rifle before.”

  “Okay,” replied Norton Grinder. “I’ll lock up the shop and put up the ‘Back in 5 minutes’ sign.”

  Even though it meant a long walk, they decided to go to the reservoir first, then make their way from there in the direction of Hans’ cave. The abundance of footprints along the trail was a clear enough indication that the Guard used the route frequently, either for access to the reservoir, or for some other purpose. With this in mind they proceeded as quietly as possible to the eastern end of the lake.

  Jon, who was leading, raised his hand and stopped. “We won’t decide where to take up our positions until we get to the end of the trail.” His voice was almost a whisper. “We’ll need to see if there’s any cover near the cave entrance, and check out the lie of the land.”

  Joshua was looking round at the dense vegetation and sniffing. “Can you smell anything?” he asked.

  “The Guard stinks like a cross between a sewer and rotten eggs,” whispered Jon. “Come to think of it, there’s definitely something in the air, but I can tell you it’s not the creature.”

  Norton Grinder sniffed too. “I’ve got a pretty good idea what it is.” He spoke slowly. “It’s a decomposing corpse. There’s nothing quite the same.”

  “Oh fuck.” Joshua’s whisper was almost too loud.

  “Still, if it’s a corpse it’s not going to attack us.” Jon sounded almost cheerful. “I say we deal with the Guard first.”

  “Agreed,” said Joshua, so they continued on their way.

  When they reached the end of the trail, the forest vegetation ceased abruptly and they soon spotted the cave. They scanned the rocky slope and clear ground below the entrance, still a hundred feet away. The ground above it rose in a short steep bank to the edge of the forest. A few bushes survived on the dried-out scree, and one of these was located near the cave.

  Norton, pointed at the meager cover. “I’ll squat behind that shrub, Jon. You ought to be able to make it back from the cave as soon as you’ve thrown the thunderflash.”

  “How about I go up top, right above the cave?” suggested Joshua. “I’ll have a good field of fire from there, and the animal won’t be able to rush me.”

  “Okay,” said Jon. “Take up your position and give us a wave when you’re ready. We’ll be behind the shrub.”

  A few minutes later they saw Joshua’s signal, and Norton Grinder settled behind the bush with the twelve-bore trained on the black hole of the cave. The wind occasionally wafted the Guard’s foul stench in his direction.

  Jon scrambled up to the entrance as quietly as the loose stones allowed, and quickly lit the thunderflash with Norton’s cigarette lighter. As soon as the fuse was fizzling, he started counting down the seconds before the bang, and threw it. A line of sparks arched into the darkness in front of him. Alternately running and sliding, he was level with Norton when he got to eight, but with no time to take cover, he dropped to the ground. Both men heard the loud but muffled explosion as the thunderflash went off. What followed was totally unexpected. There was a prodigious roar from the cave’s innards, but it didn’t come from the Guard. A huge wall of flame erupted across the ground outside, consuming the sparse vegetation in its path for a distance of about twenty feet. In a second or so its energy dissipated leaving a cloud of black smoke lingering in the still air, and a few flames licking the ground. Smoke also billowed from the cave.

  “Oh, man!” cried Norton Grinder. “What the hell was that?”

  “Haven’t a bloody clue,” replied Jon. “It seemed more like a bomb than anything else.”

  Jon and Norton Grinder had just focused their attention on Joshua, who was fortunately out of range of the fireball, when without warning the Guard burst from the cave on all fours. Its fur was burning, and flames enveloped its hideous face. A living torch, it staggered forward a few feet, then stopped and reared up, trying to beat out the fire with its forepaws. For a moment it swayed and bellowed in agony, then there was a loud crack from above the cave as Joshua put a bullet into its brain. The brute fell to the ground, motionless, the blackened flesh smoldering.

  Jon and Norton got up and were backing away from the revolting sight, when they heard Joshua crashing through the undergrowth at the top of the escarpment.

  “I’m coming down!” he yelled, and made his way to a place where the descent was easy.

  “Let’s get out of here, Josh,” said Norton.

  “What happened?” Joshua asked. “Your banger couldn’t have done all that, could it?”

  “No way,” said Jon. “I think the place must have been booby-trapped, and the thunderflash set off some sort of firebomb.”

  “Well it fixed that bloody monster, didn’t it?” said Joshua. “But what are we going to do with the body?”

  “You won’t catch me going anywhere near it,” said Norton. “Besides, what’s the point? Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  Jon turned toward the trail. “You’re forgetting the smell we noticed. If it’s a corpse we’d better go take a look.”

  “Do we have to?” asked Norton Grinder.

  “Yep,” replied Joshua.

  They retraced their steps down the path that the Guard had worn until they reached to the place with the bad smell. In the warm motionless air, it took them only a few moments to pinpoint where it was strongest. Jon looked up at the overhanging leaves. It was just possible to make out the general drift of the air from their movements, and it came from the southeast, to their left.

  Jon pointed. “Over there, Joshua.”

  Norton pushed his way through the dense bushes, and soon found the source of the smell. Lying at the base of a tree was a human corpse, partly disemboweled, its face unrecognizable. Flies rose in a buzzing cloud around it. Norton retched, then turned away to look for possible clues. He soon spotted what was unmistakably a police cap. It was wedged in a bush a few feet to his left, just within arm’s reach.

  By this time Jon and Joshua had parted the vegetation, but each turned away when he saw the horrific remains.

  “The Guard’s last kill by the looks of it,” said Jon. “As f
ar as I’m concerned being burnt alive was a fitting end for anything that could do that.”

  While he was speaking, Norton Grinder examined the inside of the officer’s cap. The name Xavier Green was inscribed in black ink. He looked at Jon. “Green. That’s bloody Green.”

  “Poetic justice,” commented Jon.

  “And good riddance,” added Norton as they started on their way toward the reservoir.

  “It’s too bad you two never got a really good look at the Guard,” Jon continued. “He was kind of singed when you saw him. The brute was pretty impressive for a man-made animal.”

  “Man-made?” queried Joshua.

  It took the rest of the way to the truck for Jon to explain what he knew about genetic manipulation. In effect, The Organization had manufactured a creature to fulfill their requirements for a ruthless guard. Green and Stoker thought it had been programmed according to what Bobbie and Neil had overheard in the maze.

  “Let’s hope there aren’t any more of them,” said Norton as he unlocked the truck.

  “I wouldn’t bet on it,” replied Jon. “But I doubt very much if there’s another on St. Barbe’s.”

  With that comforting thought they drove off.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Saturday, December 1, St. Barbe’s

  On Friday evening at the Holiday Inn, Judge Winchester left his room and found the group sitting round a patio table. He looked drawn and red-eyed as was to be expected, but as Meg told him, he must bring all his strength to bear on overcoming his grief. She suggested it might be better to think of revenge against The Organization rather than sink into depression.

  For a while, Jon’s vivid account of the Guard’s destruction took the Judge’s mind off things. Everyone agreed that the cave must have been booby-trapped in such a way that the creature could not set off the fire bomb accidentally. It seemed that any unwanted intrusion would have resulted in the incineration of the contents as well as the Guard.