“Before we do,” Greene countered, “we want you to give us a hand with something.”
“Really? What do you need?”
Greene glanced at Holmes and shrugged. He hadn’t thought that far ahead.
Holmes jumped to his rescue with the first thing that popped into his head. “The guards have Payne and Jones cornered by the swamp, and we need help flushing ’em out. You’re the smartest guy here, so we figured you could come up with something.”
A grimace filled Webster’s face. He didn’t know what to make of Holmes’s comment, but he realized something strange was going on. “Guys, I’d hate to waste my time going all the way down to the swamp for nothing. Are you sure you have them cornered?”
“Oh, yeah,” Greene claimed. “We got ’em trapped all right. I made the identification myself. Now we just need some help flushing ’em out.”
Payne, who was hiding behind the door, sensed Webster’s desire to make a break for the truck, so he tightened his grip on him before he could move.
“Don’t even think about it,” he whispered. “Tell them you can’t leave until they come inside and give you a hand. Insist if you have to.”
Webster obeyed. “Guys, I can’t help you right now. I’ve got other things to worry about
inside
.” He tilted his head toward the door in an effort to signal Holmes and Greene, but they didn’t understand what he was pointing to. “I think it would be best if you gave me a hand.”
Greene growled softly as he watched Webster twitch his head. He couldn’t believe how swiftly he was becoming unglued. “I don’t know what your deal is, but we need you in the truck right now. Time is running out, so let’s go.”
“Come on!” Holmes shouted. “We need your help immediately!”
Webster tried to move toward the truck but wasn’t strong enough to tear away from Payne. In fact, the only thing that he managed to do was piss him off.
“Do that again and I’ll bite off your fucking ear.”
“Come on,” Holmes repeated. “Let’s go! Now!”
“I can’t come,” Webster assured him. “I’d like to, but I can’t. I really can’t.”
Greene had heard enough. The cops were probably on their way, and the only thing that stood between him and freedom was a 150-pound computer geek. Angrily, Greene threw his door open and climbed out. “I’m sick of this. Come out here now before you really piss me off.”
He accented his statement with a slam of the truck door.
And that was what Jones and Blount had been waiting for. They quietly opened their windows on the second floor of the plantation house and thrust their weapons outside. Once they had settled into comfortable positions, they aimed their guns at their targets. Jones focused on Greene. Blount pointed at Holmes, who remained inside the truck.
After counting to five, Payne threw the front door open while using Webster as a shield. “Show me your hands!” he shouted. “Show me your fucking hands!”
Greene stopped dead in his tracks and slowly raised his two closed fists into the air.
“Surprised to see us?” Jones teased from above. “You must be, since we’re currently trapped down by the swamps. That’s why you’re turning white, isn’t it?”
“Something like that.”
“Don’t turn too white,” Payne muttered, “or someone around here might make you a slave.”
Greene tried to take a breath, but his chest was too tight to inhale. “What do you guys want?”
“Revenge!” Jones shouted as he cracked his neck. “A shitload of revenge!”
Payne wrapped his arm around Webster’s neck and pulled him closer. “You know what I want. I want Ariane.”
“Then this is your lucky day,” Greene assured him. “She’s in the back of our truck with another girl. Why don’t you come over and see for yourself?”
Payne shook his head. “No, thanks. I kind of like it where I’m standing now. But my partner can take a look. Hey, D.J.?”
“Yeah, chief.”
“Can you see into the back of the truck?”
“Sure can. Looks like a couple of chicks to me. Not sure who they are, though. They’re tied up, and their heads are covered.”
“Do they look alive?”
“They sure do. I see lots of squirming.”
Payne returned his attention to Greene. “So, what’s next?”
“You’re obviously in control. You’ve got a gun pointed at my heart, and your arm wrapped around Theo’s neck. You tell me, how do you want to resolve this?”
“I say we shoot him,” Jones suggested. “Then we can just take the girls.”
Greene chuckled. “Oh, you could do that, but if you shoot me, Octavian is gonna speed off before you have a chance to grab them.”
“No, he won’t,” Blount yelled. “Before he travels ten feet, I’ll pump him like a porn star.”
Greene glanced at the other end of the house and saw Blount’s unobstructed view of Holmes. “That’s a pretty colorful image, especially from a hick like yourself. That English of yours sounds remarkably better.”
“Thanks. I borrowed your
Hooked on Phonics
tape.”
Greene smiled, trying to remain as calm as possible. He had played football in front of millions of fans on TV, so he was used to keeping his nerves during times of pressure. “Hey, Octavian! Do you have a clear shot at Ariane?”
Holmes thrust his muscular arm out the back of the cab and pointed his gun at the tied-up hostages. “Definitely! There’s not much that can stop a bullet from three feet away.”
“That’s true,” Payne remarked. “But the same can be said about my distance. And I promise you, I won’t miss.”
“I believe you,” Greene said. “But you know what? I’ve got a strange feeling that you’re not going to shoot me. You know why? ’Cause if you do, a lot of people are gonna die!”
“Really! And how do you expect to pull that off?”
“Oh, it’s not what I’m gonna
pull
. It’s what I’m gonna
push
!”
Greene lowered his left hand and revealed the tiny detonator that he’d been concealing in his palm. “One touch of this button, and every anklet on this island goes
boom!
”
He accented his statement by making the sound of a large explosion, then followed it with a defiant smile. “So, let me ask you again. How do you want to resolve this?”
Payne remained stoic, showing Greene the ultimate poker face. He didn’t laugh, grin, or frown. “It’s simple, as far as I’m concerned. I get my girl, and you get your bitch.” He tightened his grasp on Webster’s neck. “Simple swap.”
“What’s to prevent you from shooting us the minute you get her?”
“Nothing,” Payne admitted. “But what prevents you from doing the same? Remember, you’re the one with the history of reneging.”
“That’s right,” Jones cracked. “You’re a re-
nigger
.”
Greene allowed his eyes to float upward. He saw nothing but the barrel of Jones’s gun. “You know if you weren’t black, I’d kick your ass for that comment.”
“Yeah, but you’d put me in handcuffs before you even tried.”
Greene lowered his gaze back to Payne. “So, you want to make a trade, huh? Tell me how to do it, and I shall oblige.”
“First of all, I need to make sure that’s Ariane.”
Greene clicked his tongue a few times in thought. “That’s gonna be tough. She’s currently gagged, and I’m not about to let you near her.”
“Not a problem, Levon. Just let me see her face. If it’s her, we can continue. If it isn’t, D.J. is going to show you his Lee Harvey Oswald impersonation.”
“Don’t worry,” Greene assured him. “You can trust me on this one. I’ll remove her hood, and you’ll see that it’s her. Okay? Just don’t shoot me.”
; As Greene strolled toward the rear of the truck, he studied the upstairs window out of the corner of his eye. He hoped that Jones would relax for just a moment, giving him enough time to make his move, but Jones was too good of a soldier to slip up. The barrel of his gun followed Greene wherever he went.
“That’s far enough,” Jones ordered. He was afraid that Greene would sneak to the far side of the truck, and if he did, he would no longer have a clean shot at him. “Climb into the bed from the back bumper. If you flinch, you die!”
“Bennie,” Payne called, “how’s your shot at the driver?”
“Clear.”
“Stay on him, Bennie. Never let him leave your sight.”
Greene stepped onto the back bumper as directed, then pulled himself up with a quick tug of his arm. After stepping over the hatch, he moved toward Ariane, keeping his eyes on Jones while looking for a chance to get free.
“D.J.,” Payne shouted, “you still got him?”
“No problem. In fact, I’m tempted to take him now, just for the hell of it.”
Despite the boast, Payne felt uneasy about the situation. There was something about the cocky look in Greene’s eyes that made him nervous. Payne wasn’t sure what was going on, but his gut told him that something bad was about to happen. As a precaution, he moved forward, keeping the hostage directly between himself and Greene.
“Do this nice and slow,” Payne ordered. “No mistakes.”
Greene nodded as he pulled Ariane into a sitting position. Next, he placed his right hand on the hood that was tied around her neck while crouching down behind her.
“D.J.?” Payne screamed.
“Don’t worry. On your command, I can put a hole in his brain.”
Payne felt temporarily better, but his anxiety returned when Greene started working on the rope around her throat. “Careful!”
“You gotta chill,” he growled. “If I hurt her, you’ll hurt Theo. And trust me, I don’t want you to do that. Why? Because I want to do it myself!”
Using Ariane as a shield, Greene pulled a gun from the back of his belt and fired two shots toward Payne. As he did, Holmes punched the gas pedal hard, sending Ariane and Greene tumbling backward in a tangle of body parts, an act that kept Jones from shooting. Sure, he could’ve fired, but the risk of hitting Ariane was simply too high for his taste. Instead, he figured he’d rely on his backup.
“Bennie,” Jones screamed, “get the driver!”
But Blount reacted too late. He fired a number of shots at the front windshield, yet the only thing that hit Holmes was shards of broken glass.
Jones cursed as the truck continued forward. He did his best to stop it by shooting at the back right tire, but the angle of the flatbed protected it like armor. He shifted his aim to the rear window, hoping to nail the driver in the back of the head, but Holmes made a sudden turn toward the side of the house.
“Son of a bitch!” Jones yelled. He couldn’t believe that so many unexpected things had happened. Greene’s hidden gun, his lack of compassion for Webster, the detonator, and Ariane’s unintentional interference. Jones abandoned his position and ran toward the front steps, where he came across Blount in the hallway. The two of them sprinted down the stairs together, hoping to hit the truck with a long-distance shot, but when they burst out the front door, they noticed something that changed their priorities.
Two bodies were sprawled on the columned porch.
One was Webster; the other was Payne.
Both were covered in blood, and neither was moving.
CHAPTER 52
WHILE
Blount ran for a first-aid kit, Jones tended to Payne, carefully probing his unconscious friend. Unfortunately, Payne’s black clothes made it tough to find his injuries.
“Bennie! Get out here! I need your help!”
Blount returned a moment later, medical supplies in hand.
“Help me get his shirt off. I need to figure out where he was hit.”
Expecting the worst, they carefully cut off the bloodied garment, exposing Payne’s chiseled but scarred torso. Thankfully, his chest and stomach were free of new wounds.
“The blood must’ve been Webster’s,” Blount said, relieved.
“Not all of it.” Jones pointed to a gaping hole in Payne’s arm. One of Greene’s bullets had torn through Webster’s body and embedded itself in Payne’s left biceps. “It’s not life threatening, but I have to patch him up before he bleeds too much.”
“What do you need me to do? Get you some towels? Boil some water?”
Jones frowned. “He’s not having a baby. He’s been shot.”
Blount nodded. “Does that mean I can’t do anything?”
“Actually, you can. I won’t leave Jon until I treat him, but the moment he wakes up he’ll want to find Ariane. Can you find us some transportation?”
“Consider it done.”
While waiting for Blount’s return, Jones tried to focus on Payne. Under these conditions, there wasn’t much he could do other than sterilize the wound and wrap it, but he realized that might be enough to save Payne’s life. Right now the two biggest concerns were blood loss and infection. A good field dressing would stop either from happening.
As Jones prepared the bandages, Payne opened his eyes. Still groggy, he blinked a few times, absorbing his surroundings. He studied Jones as he scoured through the first-aid kit.
“Excuse me, Miss Nightingale? I think you need to reap-ply your makeup.”
A smile crossed Jones’s lips. He didn’t care what Payne said as long as he was able to talk. “How are you feeling?”
“Not great.” He blinked a few times, trying to remember what happened. “I think my arm hurts.”
“That might have something to do with the bullet that’s in it. And when you fell, I think you hit your head on the steps. That’s why you blacked out.”
Payne winced as he touched the back of his head. A large bump was emerging from his scalp. “Where’s Ariane?”
Jones frowned. He didn’t want to upset his friend before his wound was treated, but he wasn’t willing to lie. “To be honest, Jon, I don’t know. They all got away.”
“What?” He immediately tried to sit up, but Jones restrained him. “How did that happen? I thought you had a shot at Levon.”
“I did, but Ariane blocked it. When the truck started to move, she tumbled on top of him. I couldn’t risk pulling the trigger.”
“What about the driver? Did he get hit?”
“Bennie hit the front windshield more than once, but Holmes kept driving.” He paused for a moment as he considered the events. “I don’t know if he hit him or not.”
Payne took a deep breath, trying to calm his rage. He wasn’t mad at Jones or Blount-considering the circumstances, they’d done their best-but he was upset at the unfortunate turn of events. Ariane was within reach, but he had blown his chance to retrieve her.
“We have to catch them before they leave the island. If they get away, there’s no telling where they’ll go.”
Jones saw the desperation on Payne’s face. It showed in the color of his cheeks and the glare in his eyes. But that wasn’t all he noticed. He could also see his pain. There was something about the tightness of his jaw and the grimace on his lips that revealed Payne’s physical agony.
“Let’s take care of you first. Then we’ll worry about them.”
“D.J., I’m fine.” He tried to sit up a second time, but Jones pushed him down again.
“Jon, we can’t chase them until we get a vehicle, and Bennie’s getting us one right now. So just calm down and let me patch you up while we wait for our limo.”
Jones cleaned and wrapped the wound in less than five minutes. Then, as he put the last layer of elastic tape around the sterile gauze, he heard the rumble of an approaching motor. He gazed across the field, trying to identify the motorist, but was unable to.
“We better take cover.”
Both men climbed to their feet and waited in the nearby bus
hes until they spotted Blount. They realized it was him when they saw his dreadlocks flapping in the breeze. As he pulled up on an ATV, Payne and Jones reemerged on the porch.
“Jon! You’re okay!”
“Yeah, I’m all right.” He glanced at the green and black Yamaha Grizzly and realized it was too small for three people. “Is this all you could find?”
“Actually, there are two more where I found this. If one of you comes with me, we can figure out a way to bring them both back.”
Jones looked at Payne. “Let me go. You should rest up.”
“No arguments from me.”
As Blount and Jones sped away, Payne scanned the immediate vicinity, making sure that no one was watching from the trees. When he was confident that he was alone, he walked toward Webster, staring at his face. In the aftermath of the shooting, he never thought to ask about Webster’s condition-he just assumed that he was dead-but one glance proved that he wasn’t. Even though his eyes were closed and his lips were blue, blood pulsated from the two wounds that were visible in his upper torso.
Blood flow meant that Webster’s heart was still beating.
Payne crouched next to him and examined his injuries, but Webster’s wounds were too severe to be fixed with a Band-Aid. There was nothing Payne could do except offer him comfort-something he was reluctant to do, considering his role in Ariane’s abduction.
“Theo,” he said in a soothing voice, “can you hear me?”
Unexpectedly, Webster opened his eyes.
“Hey,” Payne whispered, “how are you feeling?”
“P-p-p-” Webster was trying to say something, but his lack of strength made it difficult to pronounce the words. “Come . . . here.”
Before he moved closer, Payne checked Webster for weapons-the last thing he needed was a knife in his gut. But Webster was unarmed. “I’m here, Theo.”
“Paw . . . paw,” he stuttered. “Paw . . .”
He looked into Webster’s eyes. They were glassy and starting to droop. Payne knew he didn’t have much time left. “Theo, you have to repeat that. I can’t understand you.”
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