Last to die

by James Grippando

  “That’s what I need to sort out,” said Jack.

  Thirty-seven

  Kelsey was steeped in murder-all of its elements, from malice aforethought to the mortal wound.

  Criminal law had been her favorite first-year course, and she’d spent probably more hours than necessary boning up on it over the last few weeks. She was devoting more and more time to the Sally Fenning case, and the media were starting to make it sound as though the police were narrowing their suspects. If an indictment was headed in the direction of Jack’s client, she wanted to second chair the trial-but only if Jack thought she knew her stuff.

  She took one last gulp of cold coffee and closed her books. The University of Miami Law Library was open till midnight, and she’d closed it down again. The vacuum cleaners were already humming across the carpet, and some frantic law-review type was cursing at a photocopy machine that had been switched off for the night.

  “Good night, Felipe,” she said to the ponytailed undergrad who worked behind the desk.

  “Night,” he said.

  She passed by the sensors and exited through the double doors to the courtyard. The night was cool, so she laid her book bag on the bench to pull on her sweatshirt. It had been crowded when she’d arrived for her night class, so she’d parked at the far end of the student lot near the intramural fields. She had to cut across the campus to get there, and she didn’t give it a second thought until she reached a dark

  K stretch of sidewalk beneath a cluster of huge banyan trees. The sun had been shining when she’d arrived, and it was a very different walk at midnight. The thick canopy overhead blocked out the moonlight, streetlights, light of any sort. There were only shadows ahead, different shades of black. Banyans were strange, eerie trees with ropy roots that hung from branches and reached for the ground like long tentacles. Kelsey wove her way through them, dodging the hanging roots like a slow-motion slalom skier. She missed one in the darkness, bumping straight into it and giving herself a start. She took a step back and tried to collect herself, but her pulse raced. Halfway through the banyans, she suddenly felt the urge to turn and run back. She forced herself forward, only to meet another dangling root. It tangled in her hair and made her whole body quiver. She pushed it aside and hurried forward, swinging her arm like a machete through the jungle. Her pace quickened, and she was nearly at a dead run when she slammed into something that brought her to a halt and took her breath away.

  One hell of a root.

  She gathered herself up and started forward, but as quickly as she rose she was down again. She was about to scream when he pounced on top of her. His knees were on her belly, and she was flat on her back.

  “Don’t move,” he said in a coarse whisper.

  He talked as if he had a wad of cotton in his mouth to disguise his voice. There was barely enough light to see that he was wearing a ski mask, but the gun in her face was plainly visible.

  “Don’t hurt me,” she said, her voice shaking.

  “I hope I don’t have to.”

  “Please, take my purse, whatever you want.”

  “You got forty-six million dollars in that purse, honey?”

  She felt a pain in her stomach, and it wasn’t just his knees. “What’s this about?”

  “You work for Swyteck, and he represents Tatum Knight.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Tatum is one of the heirs under Sally Fenning’s will.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He pressed the barrel of his revolver into her cheekbone. “You got two weeks to change that.”

  “Change? I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t care how you do it. But in two weeks, I want Jack Swyteck to persuade his client to give up his shot at the inheritance and withdraw from Sally’s game.”

  “I don’t know how to do that.”

  “Figure it out.”

  “How?”

  “I told you. I don’t care how.”

  “What if I can’t?”

  The gun was still in her face, but she felt something sharp at her ribs, a stabbing sensation that didn’t really hurt, but it definitely made his point. “You get it done, bitch. Or your little boy, Nate, goes the way of Sally Fenning’s daughter.”

  She was suddenly breathless, barely able to get out the words. “Please, not my son.”

  “Please, my ass. Now, keep this between us. If you go to the police, if you make this public in any way, it’s Nate who pays. Understood?”

  A tear ran down her cheek, collecting at the depression from the barrel of his gun.

  “Understood?” he said harshly.

  “Yes,” she said in a voice that cracked.

  In one quick motion, he rose and rolled her onto her belly.

  “Count to a thousand before you go anywhere,” he said.

  She lay with her face in the dirt, afraid to make a move, too frightened to count as his fading footsteps echoed in the darkness.

  Thirty-eight

  Tshe next morning Jack went for a run. It wasn’t just about exercise. He wanted to check his phone messages, and it was two miles to the nearest store offering international phone service-cabines téléphoniques, they were called, not really phone booths but private phones for hire. He would have driven, but Theo was off in the Land Rover in search of doughnuts. Rene had warned him that it would be an utter waste of time, but Theo was having one of those bear-like cravings that could have had him scouring a rice paddy for a bag of barbecued potato chips.

  Jack was soaked with sweat when he reached the general store at the end of the road. It was early in the day, and he’d run countless hours in Miami summers. That didn’t matter: African Heat, 1; Jack Swyteck, 0. He put his hands on his hips and walked off the side-stitch, wondering for an instant if the sight before him was a mirage. Sure enough, their Land Rover was parked out front, and Theo was sitting on the hood, stuffing his face.

  “What’d you get?” asked Jack.

  “Croissants.”

  “No doughnuts?”

  “Close enough.”

  Jack went inside and paid the clerk, who directed him to the private phone in back. He dialed the operator, told her to cut off the call when the outrageous cost per minute hit fifty bucks, and then connected to his voice mail.

  The most recent message had come through just an hour earlier, 1:37 A.M. Miami time. It was from Kelsey. Her voice was shaking, and it sounded as though she’d been crying. “Jack, please call me when you get this message. It’s very important.”

  That was the end of it. Some work-related messages followed, but after the call from Kelsey he wasn’t exactly focused, so he hung up. He held the phone for a moment, debating. It wasn’t even 3 A.M. back in Miami, but her message had sounded too serious to wait another three or four hours. He rang the operator again and returned the call.

  “Hello?” she said. It didn’t sound as though he’d woken her.

  “It’s me, Jack. Is everything okay?”

  “No,” she said, her voice filling with emotion. “But I’m glad you called.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  She talked fast and told him. Jack wanted to take a moment to calm her down, but he was afraid they might get cut off any minute.

  “Did you get a look at him?”

  “No, it was too dark. I’m almost certain he was wearing a mask anyway.”

  “Try to remember as much as you can, and write it all down so you don’t forget. His height, his smell, his weight, any accent in his voice.”

  “He talked like he had cotton in his mouth, so I’m not sure what his voice sounds like.”

  “That’s okay. Just write it all down.”

  “I’m so scared.”

  “Have you called the police?”

  “No.”

  “Kelsey, you need to call the police.”

  “No! He told me-” She stopped, as if there was something she didn’t want to tell him.

  “He told you what?” asked Jack.

  “I ju
st can’t go to the police.”

  “Did he threaten you?”

  Again she paused, and he knew she wasn’t telling him something, probably to keep him from worrying about things he couldn’t fix from another continent. “Kelsey, I’m coming back to Miami.”

  He could hear the relief in her voice as she said, “I would feel so much better if you did.”

  “I’m sort of in the middle of nowhere, but I’ll start working on it as soon as I hang up. Somehow, I’ll figure out a way to get there.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t worry, okay?”

  “Too late.”

  “I can hire you a guard to stay with you, if that will make you feel safe.”

  “No, that’s not necessary. If I get scared I’ll stay with my mother.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. Just get home, Jack. We’ll sort everything out when you’re back.”

  “Okay. Hopefully, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yes,” she said softly. “Hopefully.”

  By nightfall they were back where they’d started, in the cocoa-growing region near Daloa. Backtracking didn’t seem like progress, but returning early to Miami was proving to be more difficult than anticipated. They were a full day’s drive from the international airport in Abidjan, and that was the good news. Unless Jack wanted to cough up another thirteen thousand dollars to fly to Miami via Paris, they’d be stuck in Côte d’ Ivoire at least another three days. That was when Theo concocted Plan B.

  “You sure we can trust these guys?” asked Jack.

  “They’re Belgerian. You ever met a Belgerian you couldn’t trust?”

  “What the hell’s a Belgerian?”

  “They’re from Brussels. You know, Belgerians.”

  “So that would make them what? Bulgarians who live in Belgium?”

  Theo downshifted, pushing the Land Rover across some of the darkest, roughest roads they’d traveled yet. Rene bounced so hard in the backseat that her head nearly hit the ceiling. Jack just watched the tiny raindrops that were starting to splatter against the windshield.

  Belgerians?

  Rene asked, “How’d you meet these fellows?”

  “They were my drinking buddies back in Odienné. Swyteck here crapped out on me and went to sleep. These two guys were nice enough to introduce me to their African gin.”

  “Are they going to meet us here?”

  “No. We’re looking for a dude named Lutu.”

  “Doesn’t sound Belgerian to me,” said Jack.

  Theo stopped at a crossroad for no apparent reason. They were surrounded by cocoa fields, far from city lights, shrouded in darkness by the gathering clouds overhead.

  “What now?” asked Jack.

  “We walk from here,” said Theo.

  “Walk where?”

  Theo checked his map, which was nothing more than some indecipherable lines he’d scrawled on the back of a napkin while talking on the telephone to his Belgerian friends. “Down this road. Airstrip should be on the other side of those trees.”

  “The road goes in that direction. Why can’t we drive there?”

  “Because they told me not to.”

  “Why?”

  “Why, why, I don’t know why. We got drunk together. I gave them my phone number in Miami and said come get a suntan. They gave me the number of friends they were staying with in Man and said to call if I need anything. I called. They helped. Period. Isn’t that enough?”

  “Only for Belgerians,” said Jack as he opened the door.

  The three of them stepped out onto the dirt road. The rain was more like a mist, but the worst of the storm clouds were backlit by a full moon, and they were starting to look threatening. Jack put on his Australian-style hat and got his duffle bag down from the luggage rack. It wasn’t all that heavy, but he wasn’t thrilled about lugging it on his back for who knew how long in search of some hidden airstrip.

  The steady hum of an airplane engine rippled across the farmland. Jack looked into the sky but saw nothing. The noise was coming from somewhere on the ground, presumably the airstrip beyond the tall stand of cocoa trees.

  Theo checked his watch and said, “Shit, man. We gotta run.”

  Rene said, “I’ll drop off the Land Rover as soon as I reach Korhogo.”

  “Thanks,” said Jack. “And thanks for everything. I mean it, you were a great help.”

  “You’re welcome. Sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.”

  “Me too. But if you’re ever in Miami.”

  She smiled and said, “Right. And if you’re ever in Korhogo again…don’t call me, because it means you are absolutely out of your mind.”

  Jack smiled, and then with the speed of a hummingbird she gave him a quick and tiny kiss on the cheek. “See ya around,” she said.

  “Yeah, see ya,” he said, definitely caught off guard. He watched as she walked back to the car, got behind the wheel, and drove away.

  Theo cleared his throat and said, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, and you’ll always have Paris. Now come on, Bogie, the plane’s leavin’.”

  Jack checked the night sky, which was definitely promising serious rainfall. The airplane engine was whining even louder. “Let’s go,” said Jack.

  They jogged side by side down the rutted path of dirt, taking care not to turn an ankle. Jack was huffing, Theo was grunting, and the plane was sounding awfully close. “Just-a little-further,” said Theo, struggling for breath.

  “Will he wait for us?”

  “Hell no.”

  “You mean if we miss this plane-”

  “It’s you,” he said, huffing, “me, and the antelopes.”

  Jack took it to a higher gear, and Theo was right with him. The road cut through the stand of cocoa trees, though it was overgrown in spots with big fanlike banana tree leaves. The mist had turned into real rain, and Jack could hear the big drops pattering against the leafy canopy. They sprinted through the foliage until they reached a clearing on the opposite side. As soon as they were out in the open, the rain became a downpour. In seconds, they were soaked.

  “Shit!” said Jack.

  “There’s the plane,” said Theo. He was pointing to a pair of headlights at the far end of a so-called airstrip that was nothing more than a field of grass and packed dirt.

  “You said it was a prop-jet.”

  “I lied.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a twin engine Cessna.”

  “A puddle jumper? I told you, I don’t do puddle jumpers.”

  Theo looked up into the driving rain. “Then you can spend the night here sleeping in the puddles.” He turned and ran toward the plane.

  Jack thought for a second, then started after him. As they reached the end of the airstrip, a man jumped out of the aircraft. He was easily as big as Theo, dressed completely in black. Jack and Theo froze. He was pointing a gun at them.

  “Easy, dude,” said Theo. “We’re friends of Hans and Edgar.”

  “The Belgerians,” said Jack.

  “What be your names?” He spoke with an accent that Jack couldn’t quite place.

  “He’s Jack, I’m Theo.”

  He smiled and put the gun in his belt. “I’m Lutu. Get in.”

  Theo stepped forward, but Jack didn’t move. Theo said, “Come on, Jack.”

  The rain was falling, the engines were howling, and this friend of the mad Belgerians was packing a pistol. Jack said, “I don’t think so.”

  Just then, another set of headlights appeared at the other end of the airstrip. It was an open Jeep filled with men. Two of them had rifles strapped to their shoulders.

  “Oh, boy,” said Lutu.

  “Oh, boy, what?” said Jack.

  “I knew I should never have been waitin’ on you gents so long. Looks like we won’t be takin’ dis here plane without a fight.”

  “What do you mean ‘taking’?” asked Theo.

  “What do you mean ‘a fight’?” asked Jack.

 
“The owner of dis here plantation don’t pay his bills, we take dis here plane back. Dat the way it is. But maybe dat don’t make the owner so happy, you know what I saying?”

  Jack glared at Theo and said, “We’re on a repo mission?”

  “How was I to know?”

  Jack whacked him about the head and shoulders with his soaking wet hat.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” said Theo. “You want to get home or don’t you?”

  The crack of gunfire echoed in the darkness. The Jeep full of armed guards was speeding toward them.

  “Holy shit!” said Jack.

  “Get in!” said Lutu.

  They scampered up the wing and climbed aboard. Lutu took the yoke, Theo strapped himself into the seat beside him, and Jack sat behind them. The plane was moving before Jack could find his seat belt, and the engines roared as Lutu asked for every bit of power they packed. They were speeding down the bumpy dirt runway, the entire plane shaking so intensely that Jack was bouncing like a pinball from one side to the other.

  “Sorry,” said Lutu. “Got to get dis here plane up fast!”

  Jack wedged himself between the seats to keep from slamming his head against the ceiling. The rain was cascading off the windshield, the wipers working furiously. He managed to catch a glimpse of the fast-approaching Jeep. It was a game of chicken, the plane against the Jeep, Lutu against the lunatic aiming his rifle straight at them. Jack saw the sudden recoil in the man’s shoulder.

  They’re shooting at us!

  “Wooo-hoooo!” shouted Theo, loving every minute of it.

  The plane hit another huge hole in the airstrip, and Jack went flying. He had to grab something, so he grabbed Theo by the throat.

  “Woooo-glupp!”

  Lutu pulled back on the yoke, and the bouncing stopped as they lifted a few precious feet off the ground.

  “Pull up!” said Jack.

  “Watch this,” said Lutu. He held the plane steady, exactly the right altitude to decapitate everyone in the oncoming Jeep.

  “Are you crazy?” shouted Jack.

  The flying plane was closing fast. The men in the Jeep jumped out just before the plane passed, ditching the Jeep but saving their scalps.