by Dee Lloyd
He turned to Gus, then stuck out his hand. “Thanks. I really owe you, buddy.”
A piercing squeal from the alarm and the commotion of two dogs in full cry bearing down on the southwest corner of the fence had Matt and Gus out the front door in a flash.
Pete picked up his shotgun.
“Come with me, Reenie,” he shouted, heading for the bay window on the west side of the living room.
They reached the window just in time to see two men leap into a dark car, which then took off down the road. The racket was ear splitting with Lotte and Berta barking and making the alarm sound every time they leapt at the fence.
It took a few minutes for Matt to quiet the dogs. When he and Gus returned to the house, the only reference anyone made to the fact that two large men had tried to scale the fence was Pete’s off-hand, “Guess Casen’s men didn’t know the fence was wired for sound. I hate that Screaming Mimi but I’ve got to admit I’m glad we have it tonight.”
“They can’t have expected the dogs either. And maybe seeing two armed men right on the dogs’ heels will discourage them,” Matt said, his eyes seeking out Reenie’s to assure himself that she was holding up all right.
“You three had better get some sleep,” Gus said. “We know the early warning system works fine. I’ll keep watch tonight.”
“We’re gone,” Matt agreed. “I should close my eyes for a while.”
Reenie took his hand and headed for the stairs. “Come on, sweetheart,” she said with a forced smile, “it’s time to tuck you in.”
Matt’s mental alarm clock worked fine at three-thirty that morning. He awoke, alert and refreshed, with a warm, sleeping Reenie snuggled against him. After today, he swore, he would have long mornings waking beside her. He would waken her with lingering kisses and slow caresses. He couldn’t imagine waking up without her ever again. Tonight, he would tell her so.
He eased his arm out from under her. She murmured something inarticulate in protest but didn’t wake up. It was too bad she couldn’t sleep until this whole tense day was over. Quietly he pulled on the same clothes he’d taken off four hours earlier. He could shower and change at the apartment .. after he found that last damned bank account.
He bent over and kissed Reenie lightly on the forehead and slipped quietly out of the room where he had slept for the first eighteen years of his life. When he reached the foot of the stairs, Gus called him over to the lookout post he’d set up at the bay window and handed him a hot cup of coffee.
“All quiet since the excitement,” Gus said. “The dogs seem to be doing a lot of pacing up and down the fence by the road. I guess they’re still stirred up. I haven’t seen a car stop or even slow down since I started watching. And no sign of anyone on foot.”
“The dogs might have the scent of someone watching the house from the hill across the road though,” Matt suggested. “I’ll detour along the fence on my way over to the apartment.”
The unpleasant truth was that a platoon of men could hide under the cover of dense evergreen scrub up there and he’d never be able to spot them from the marina. Fortunately, Casen hadn’t had time to set up anything so elaborate yet. Matt gulped down the last of his coffee and left Gus to his watch
Having seen no unusual movement on the hillside on his way to the apartment, Matt settled down in the all too familiar desk chair. He’d accounted for all but the last million dollars of GEL money that Casen had channeled through dummy construction companies and their Chinese subsidiaries. That elusive account number had to be in these latest lists. This kind of high-powered data was so jealously guarded that Matt didn’t even want to know how Ryan had managed to get it.
Matt dug, then detoured, then backtracked, then dug some more. Daylight was creeping into the sky when he found it. Casen proved to be smarter than Walt thought. He’d had the transactions arranged through the giant Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank, then muddied the water by hiring a British lawyer to transfer securities to a major bank in Montreal, sell them there, and have the funds transferred to the main account in the Hong Kong and Shanghai subsidiary in the Channel Islands.
Matt felt like cheering. There were no gaps left in the trail. He had Jon Casen dead to rights.
He called Walt right away.
“You got him,” Walt cheered.
“I’m faxing the information off to you as we speak.” Matt filled Walt in briefly on the abortive attempts Wilson and crew had made to get into the marina. “So Gus is anxious to pick them up before they try again. Just give the word.”
“I can’t do that, Matt,” Walt said. “We have to wait for the coordinated raids at four o’clock. Just one whisper to Jon could jeopardize the major operation.”
Nothing Matt said could convince him that they needed to move more quickly than that. He’d known the IRS would insist on calling the shots but he hadn’t realized how powerless he would feel. He had a real sense of urgency about Reenie’s safety but could do nothing about it.
He’d only taken a few steps down the driveway towards the house when the gate alarm gave a short screech. It was only Jeff parking his pickup in front of the dogs’ enclosure. Matt changed direction and met the mechanic at the truck.
“You’re early,” Matt greeted him. Lotte and Berta crowded around their two favorite human beings, their violently wagging tails whipping against both men’s legs.
“Sure am. Wanted to get an early start.” Jeff turned to the bouncing dogs and rubbed their heads roughly. “I know it’s breakfast time. Come on, girls. Into the run.”
It occurred to Matt that they should break the routine and leave the dogs running loose today - at least until Walt gave the word that they had Jon in custody. Then what would he tell Jeff about why he was doing it? Oh, hell, he and Gus could handle things for a few hours.
“I thought I’d tune up the last batch of snow machines this morning,” Jeff said with a smug grin. He seemed to be bursting with some kind of news. “I was talking to the manager of that new cross-country ski club last night. He wants us to do the maintenance on their trail-grooming equipment. I was pretty sure you’d want to go for it, so I thought I’d clear out the shop to make room for their machines.”
“That’s great news,” Matt told him. Everything seemed to be going his way this morning. “We’ll have to get serious about getting you some full time help.”
The new business made his plan to hire extra winter staff so that he could leave Jeff in charge sound more practical. Suddenly, he realized he hadn’t thought of his need for an escape from the tedium of his life at the marina for weeks - not since Reenie had come into his life. Even after this crisis was over, he couldn’t imagine finding his life dull if Reenie was part of it.
He was so eager to tell her of his success that he jogged from the engine shop back to the house. When he opened the mudroom door, he found Gus planted in the archway to the kitchen with his revolver drawn.
“Glad to see you on your toes,” Matt commented.
“You look more cheerful,” Gus said, tucking the gun back into its holster.
“I found the account,” Matt said with a broad grin. “In the Channel Islands. Tricky bastard, that Casen.”
“Congratulations. It’s all over but the shouting then,” Gus said, clapping him on the shoulder. “So when can we go pick up the guys at the cabin?”
“Walt refuses to let us do that until they can get all of them at the same time. And he won’t budge from the original time for the raids.”
“About what you’d expect from the Feds,” he said with a resigned grimace. “If that’s the way it is, why don’t you go and have a well-deserved sleep. Everything’s under control here. Even Pete’s still sleeping.”
“It’s your turn,” Matt objected. “I already had some sleep.”
“Go,” Gus directed. “I just put on a new pot of coffee. I’m good for another few hours. Besides, I’m working up to a whole week on the Sailing Solution.”
“Done!” The idea of climbing into b
ed and cuddling Reenie’s warm sleepy body was tremendously appealing. He wouldn’t allow himself to sleep in case Gus needed him. In not too many hours, they’d get the word to go after Wilson Foster and whomever he had with him. They’d seen at least two men tearing away from the fence last night.
Matt gave a mighty yawn and started up the stairs. As he hit the third step, every light in the house went out. He looked back over his shoulder at the window. The compound lights were gone too. This outage couldn’t be solved by simply pulling a breaker.
Matt cursed the Michigan power authority earnestly and long.
“I’ll have to go out to the generator shed and start up some auxiliary power,” he said. “The alarm won’t work until I do.”
“The dogs are raising hell,” Gus said, starting towards the back door.
“Here,” Matt said, handing Gus a large ring of keys. “The one with the white tag is for the lock on the dog run. Jeff just confined them for the day. I’ll look after the generator.”
With one quick anxious look towards the darkened stairs, Matt followed him out. He left Gus at the gate to the dog run. When Matt got to the little room at the end of the building that housed the engine shop, he found Jeff pouring gasoline into the fuel tank of the generator.
“Must have let it run dry that last big storm,” he apologized. “Wonder what happened to the power lines. No storms in the area.”
The dogs’ barking had become even louder and higher in pitch.
“Those dogs are really going nuts out there. Gus must be having trouble with the padlock on the run,” Matt said. “Go on out and see if you can help him. I’ll take over here.”
He barely had time to pull out the choke and give cord one pull when he heard Jeff bellow his name. What now?
Matt dropped the cord and tore out of the shed. When he turned the corner to the dog run, he saw Gus lying, apparently lifeless, on the ground. Jeff was kneeling at his side.
“He’s alive,” Jeff told him. “But he’s out cold.”
Matt bent over his friend. “No wonder,” he said, feeling the large lump that was rapidly rising at the base of Gus’ skull.
Oh, Lord! Reenie! Reenie was unprotected.
Matt was hardly aware of the low moan Gus gave as he regained consciousness.
“Stay with him,” Matt told Jeff whose eyes widened when Matt drew his revolver from its resting place at the back of his belt. “I’ll explain later,” he shouted over his shoulder as he sprinted at full speed for the house.
He was not half way to the house when Gus’s pick-up came screaming up the driveway towards him. In the misty half-light, he thought he could make out two men in the cab. Matt raised his revolver and aimed at the cab when the pickup veered directly at him. He got off one shot but had to make a flying leap out of the truck’s path. His shot went wide of the target. He rose to his knees and fired two more shots at the rear tires as the pickup careered out of the lot. It lurched as if a bullet had nicked one.
When he reached the house, the back door was wide open. He hurled himself through it with no thought of caution, of who might still be inside. His heart was pounding so hard it felt like a rock ricocheting around in his chest. All he could think of was Reenie.
He saw Pete standing startled and bleary-eyed at the doorway of his room as he tore by him. Matt threw open the door to his bedroom and looked at the rumpled bedclothes on the empty bed.
Reenie was gone.
Chapter Twenty
Reenie awakened to the smell of dust and wood smoke and a spicy-sweet smell that was distinctly repugnant. She started to open her eyes but winced against the light and closed them again. Her mouth was dry and her arms and shoulders ached. When she tried to bring her hand up to shade her eyes against the light, she couldn’t move it. The shift of her weight caused the bedsprings to give a very familiar creak. Her eyes flew open.
She was at the cabin - on her own single bed at Dad’s cabin. And her hands were tied behind her back. At the same horrible instant, she recognized the offensive smell on her pillow. It was the cloying scent of Jon’s distinctive cologne. Her stomach roiled. She didn’t know how she got here but she was on her own bed. And Jon Casen had obviously lain on it recently!
What had happened? She remembered Matt entering the room where she was sleeping as the first grey streaks of dawn were penetrating the blackness of the night. No. That was wrong. Her brain was so fuzzy. She’d assumed it was Matt at first. But he’d stood there instead of coming to bed. She’d started to ask him what the matter was when she’d caught a glint of light off the slim needle of the syringe in his hand.
Then she’d seen his face. That flash of recognition was the last thing she remembered. Wilson Foster had somehow got past Gus. Had he killed Gus? And what had happened to Matt?
It was broad daylight now. From the angle of the sunlight coming in the window, she figured it must be around ten o’clock. What had happened while she’d been lying here unconscious?
She could hear men’s voices in the main room of the cabin. Jon was doing most of the talking. She distinguished Wilson’s voice but she’d never heard the others before. These could be the men Jon had hired to track and kill her.
“While Vince and Joe are moving the car onto the road and scuffing up the tire treads, I want you to get the rowboat out from under the porch,” Jon was saying.
“Why the boat? We’re going to give her another shot. Why can’t we just throw her in off the dock,” Wilson said. “I looked at that rowboat yesterday, Jon, and it’s so dried out it’ll leak like a sieve when we put it in the water.”
“Put it in anyway,” Jon ordered. “The water’s too shallow by the dock. I don’t want any more mistakes. Maura has to go into deep water. It has to look like suicide.”
Didn’t Jon think the people at the marina would wonder where she was? What had he done to Matt? Wait a minute. If Jon was going to pass off her death as suicide, he couldn’t afford to kill Matt or anyone else. Jon didn’t know that anyone at the marina knew who she was or that Matt knew he was using her cabin. Jon probably thought he had all the time in the world. His meeting in Lansing wasn’t until late this afternoon. She felt a grim satisfaction at the surprise he was in for when he got there.
Matt would know where they’d taken her. She had to believe Matt was all right. All she had to do was delay Jon until Matt got here. That’s all. Trussed like a turkey, stunned from whatever Wilson had pumped into her, all she had to do was distract Jon from his purpose. Come on. It was possible. She knew his weaknesses.
Seduction wouldn’t work. Jon had never wanted her body. And now he was focused on eliminating her for his very survival. Actually, that was the answer. Jon’s whole world was centered on one person - himself. She had to make him uncertain that killing her would end the threat. And she had to do that without further endangering the Hansons.
“Well, what’s keeping you? Get the boat,” Jon snapped.
“You told me to make sure we hadn’t left any prints on the dishes. Make up your mind, Jon.”
She’d never heard Wilson use that tone of voice to Jon.
“Sorry, Wilson.” Jon turned on the charm. “I don’t have to be back in Lansing until three-thirty. We’ll deal with the prints just before we clear out. I think I hear Maura waking up at last. I’ll have my talk with her while you’re dealing with the boat.”
He stepped suddenly into her field of view, looking exactly the same as he always did. His thick blond hair was carefully trimmed, the lines of his face fell naturally into his professional smile. His pale blue eyes, however, were unsmiling. He leaned against the doorframe looking like a magazine photograph of himself except for the chrome-plated gun dangling from his hand.
The corner of his sculptured mouth turned down. “This new look is definitely not an improvement, Maura,” he pronounced. “Why did you run away? We could have talked.”
“And ended up like Danny?” When the rage flared up in his eyes, she realized that defiance wa
s the wrong approach. She changed tactics. “Sorry. That was unfair. I know Danny’s death was an accident.”
His face relaxed as it always did when things were going his way. “It’s too bad you found those pictures,” he said almost conversationally. “I mean to have the negatives, you know.”
She licked her lips. “My mouth tastes terrible. And it’s so dry. If I had some water, maybe I could talk. What did you give me anyway?”
He smiled then. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. “You’re not in any position to make demands, my dear. Where are the negatives?”
“Please, Jon,” she said. “At least, let me sit up. I can’t talk in this position.”
She could see him calculating how much time seeing her grovel would cost him. He must have decided it was too much because he grabbed her shoulders and hoisted her roughly onto her feet. She swayed, unsteadily.
“Into the other room,” he said, half dragging her by the elbow to one of the wooden armchairs that were grouped around the fireplace. Her bound hands smashed against the wooden spindles that formed the back of the chair.
“My hands?” she asked, without much hope.
The smile was back. Jon shook his head. Maybe she could use his enjoyment of having her at his mercy. She let her lower lip quiver a little.
“I don’t have the negatives any more,” she told him.
“I don’t believe you,” he said. “They’re your insurance.”
“I hated those pictures,” she muttered. “Those other women.”
Jon’s pale eyes searched her face. She had him wondering.
“I didn’t want anyone else to see the women you preferred to me.” She tried to look like a woman scorned.
“I burned them all,” she said defiantly. Then looked up at him with what she hoped was just enough challenge in her eyes. If he believed this, she might take up a career on the stage.
His eyes narrowed.
“And the papers Danny said he had?”