Cut and Run

by Carla Neggers

  She nodded. “Hendrik—I didn’t think…”

  “You didn’t think I’d come? Neither did I, I suppose. Forty years ago I wouldn’t have. Make no mistake about that, my sweet Catharina.” But he didn’t waste time on sentiment. Pointing his rifle at the man on the porch, whose name he’d forgotten, he said, “Come, Willie, you and Catharina have done your job. He won’t move—will you, my friend?”

  The guard seemed almost pleased to be held off by an FN NATO assault rifle rather than an old woman’s kitchen knife. A man’s pride, Hendrik thought, disgusted and amused.

  Wilhelmina climbed stiffly down from the porch, ruing the loss of her youth. When one reached the age of seventy, she thought, one should plant begonias. She gave Hendrik de Geer a stony look. “Did you forget something? Is that why you returned?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I forgot how much I care about you two. Now come, both of you. There’s a fishing boat down at the dock. It’s a simple engine, you can manage it. I’ll get you to it. Then take it and get out of here. Look for another fishing camp; get help.”

  “What about you?” Catharina asked.

  Hendrik let his gaze linger on her soft green eyes. “I have always been good at taking care of myself, Catharina.”

  “No question of that,” Wilhelmina muttered.

  He gave her a thin smile, remembering how they’d always sparred with each other, even when they were teenagers and Catharina was still but a baby. “Mind the alligators, Willie.”

  “I’m not afraid of alligators.”

  “No,” he said, “but they may be afraid of you.”

  Twenty-Five

  “Wait for me if you can,” Stark told the pilot. “If you can’t, get the hell out.” He nodded to Juliana and Ryder. “Take these two with you.”

  “Will do.”

  Matthew turned to Ryder. “Keep her here. Understood?”

  He was half-waiting for Ryder to tell him Juliana could stay with the pilot, that he was a veteran combat soldier and would be willing to help Matthew with Bloch. But the senator from Florida only nodded, white-faced.

  Juliana was closer to purple-faced. “What if ‘her’ doesn’t want to stay here?” she demanded, her tone scathing as strands of pale blond hair flew across her face. Stark thought she looked gorgeous.

  “Look,” he said, “you know Eric Shuji Shizumi. I know Phillip Bloch. I won’t interfere with you and Shuji; you don’t interfere with me and Bloch. Okay?”

  “He’s got my mother and my aunt.”

  Stark hadn’t thought his logic would work with her. “Here.” He pulled back the slide on the Colt, lowered the hammer, and handed it over. “It’s an automatic. To shoot someone just flip off the safety, cock it, point and pull the trigger. It’s an old Army gun. Ryder knows all about it, but I think right now I trust you more.” Then he leaned over and kissed her hard. “Be good.”

  He jumped down from the helicopter and disappeared into a darkened stand of yellow scrub pines just beyond the landing pad. Juliana watched with concern and fury—and relief, at least for herself. The knots of tension all through her told her to curl up in a ball inside the helicopter where no one could see her and just wait for everything to be over. She didn’t want to be in the way. A liability. A potential victim. But she didn’t want to do nothing, either.

  “Matt went through advanced infantry training,” Ryder said, almost tenderly. “He knows what he’s doing.”

  “You could help him,” Juliana said.

  “I can’t—”

  “Won’t. You don’t want to.” She looked at him levelly, seeing what he was, knowing what he was thinking. “You want him to die, and you want Bloch to die. That’s it, isn’t it? Then neither will be around as a threat to expose you to the world. But I want you to know, Sam Ryder. The threat won’t die with them, do you understand? I’ll expose you.”

  “You’re wrong,” he said.

  “Then get your butt out there and help him!”

  Ryder started to say something, but he jumped suddenly from the helicopter. Juliana thought she might have gotten through to him. She watched him run across the clearing behind the lodge, but then he veered over to an open Jeep. He didn’t have a chance to start it up. One of Bloch’s men was there with a gun. Ryder looked a combination of scared and indignant as he went with him into the lodge.

  “I’ve got to tell Matthew,” Juliana muttered, and started to jump out herself.

  The pilot caught her by the arm. “Sorry, lady. Stark can handle the situation—and don’t bother waving that gun at me because I know you’re not going to shoot me.”

  But Juliana was looking past him, stricken. “Mother!”

  The pilot whipped around, and while he was momentarily off-guard, Juliana seized the opportunity and jumped from the helicopter, keeping her head down as she dove under the rotating propeller, plunging wildly toward the lake, holding onto the heavy Colt.

  Hendrik de Geer was helping her mother and Aunt Willie into an aluminum boat. He was armed with something that looked like it could kill a tiger, but it wasn’t going to do him a damn bit of good if he didn’t see the man sneaking toward them from behind a rustic-looking shack. He carried a rifle that was insignificantly smaller than the Dutchman’s.

  Juliana slowed down as she flipped the safety on the Colt, worried the thing would go off, but it didn’t, and she moved steadily, ducking onto a path flanked by scrub pine. Her mother and Aunt Willie were in the boat now. De Geer looked around but couldn’t see Bloch’s man, who had stopped at the corner of the shack and was raising his rifle, obviously planning to pick off the Dutchman and maybe the two women as well.

  “No,” Juliana yelled, “don’t!”

  The man swung around, trying to find her with the rifle, and her mother screamed. “Juliana—leave us!” But Juliana didn’t and blindly pulled the trigger on the Colt. Sound exploded all around her, and the recoil from the firing jerked her arm up and back. She yelled out, pain and numbness slicing through her hand, and flashing before her was Shuji’s face when she told him she’d ruined her career fighting bad guys in a goddamn Florida swamp. It all seemed so crazy and silly she wanted to laugh even as she more or less fell, jumped, and was hauled backward into the trees.

  A series of loud cracking sounds around her and Matthew’s hot breath on her face chased away the vagueness. “Jesus H. Christ,” Matthew said. “Living with you is going to be something else.”

  She realized she was still holding the Colt, but her hand was so numb she couldn’t feel it. “My hand…”

  “Lady, you’d better worry about your neck because I think I’m about to strangle you.”

  “Did I get him?”

  “No, you didn’t get him, goddamnit, how the hell do you think you can hit someone when you shoot with your damned eyes closed?” Matthew hissed angrily, dumping her down among the prickly pine needles. “But you distracted him,” he admitted, “and de Geer got him.”

  “Mother—”

  “Aunt Willie bopped her one and got her out of here in the boat. She must have realized that was the best thing she could do since they’re unarmed and could serve only as potential hostages.”

  Only then did Juliana look down toward the lake. There was no sign of the boat. Everything was strangely quiet. “Where’s Bloch?”

  “Inside pulling up anchor, I suspect. Most of his men have hit the road. They don’t mind playing war with him, but they don’t want to die or go to jail for him. I had a chat with a few. They decided they didn’t want to hang around for the FBI.”

  “Are they coming?”

  “Sure.”

  “But how—”

  “I had Feldie give them a buzz. Called her from the airport. They’ll want to be damn careful about putting an assault on a camp owned by a United States senator, but I suspect they’ll be along.”

  “One of Bloch’s men has Ryder. He was trying to run and got caught.”

  “Oh, terrific. Now Bloch has himself another hostage.
” Matthew suddenly went still. “Damn.”

  Juliana followed his gaze to the back of the lodge and didn’t have to ask him what was wrong. She could see. Phillip Bloch was making his way toward the helicopter, armed with a rifle.

  “The pilot’ll just take off—”

  “He can’t. Bloch’ll shoot him, and he knows it.”

  Without a word, Matthew slunk off into the shadows, leaving Juliana where she was. Trusting her. She thought of the Minstrel and wondered if she could delay Bloch with the promise of it but knew they were beyond all that now. Bloch would just shoot her and get the hell out. At best he’d grab her and take her with him. So running out into the open wasn’t going to do any good. But neither was staying where she was.

  She crept off after Matthew. Feeling had returned to her hand; it was strained but not broken. If she had to shoot again, she would expect the recoil and steel herself for it.

  “I’ll cover you,” she said, coming up behind Matthew. He gave her a dubious look, and she managed a smile. “I may not hit anything, but Bloch won’t know that.”

  “All right. Just try not to hit me.”

  She nodded gravely, and Matthew just grinned and started out from within the brush.

  Juliana grabbed his shoulder. “Wait—look.”

  Sam Ryder was being marched to the helicopter at gunpoint. He and Bloch’s man joined the sergeant as they moved toward the landing pad.

  “The dumb son of a bitch,” Stark muttered. “Bloch’ll kill him.”

  “Isn’t there anything we can do?”

  Before Matthew could answer, Hendrik de Geer bounded from behind the lodge. He called something in Dutch, and the man on Ryder whipped around, firing a burst. De Geer returned fire, and both went down. Even from where she was, Juliana could see the blood spreading over the Dutchman’s chest. Ryder stood frozen, staring down at the dead man at his feet.

  “Sam,” Matthew yelled, jumping out from the brush, “drop and roll, goddamnit!”

  Ryder didn’t move. Bloch had turned and, seeing what was happening, hesitated momentarily. If he went and grabbed Ryder, the chopper would take off without him. If he didn’t, he’d lost his hostage.

  He raised his rifle.

  “Shit,” Matthew muttered as he fired twice, but Bloch was too far for Stark’s aim to be effective. He dove out of the brush, staying low as he catapulted into Ryder and knocked him down. Bloch’s bullets thudded and kicked up clouds of dust as both men rolled behind a Jeep. Juliana couldn’t see if either had been hit, but she used all her self-control to keep quiet. Bloch didn’t know she was there.

  Staying within the protection of the stand of pines, she made her way cautiously but quickly toward the sergeant. He was keeping an eye on the Jeep and had fired at the helicopter, a warning shot for the pilot to stay put. Juliana felt she’d gotten the poor guy into this mess and couldn’t abandon him. Except for watching a few television detective shows, she had no sense whatever of tactics. She only knew she wasn’t going to let Phillip Bloch get into that helicopter.

  “Stop,” she yelled over the whirring roar of the propeller, and fired the Colt in Bloch’s general direction. The kickback hurt like hell, but she was prepared this time. She missed, of course. Hitting a moving target wasn’t as easy as it appeared. But she did succeed in slowing Bloch and diverting his attention from the chopper, Matthew, and Ryder. He paused and fired blindly into the brush, preventing Juliana from getting off another shot as she dove to the ground. Then Matthew was there, coming at Bloch from an angle, surprising him. He fired once, hitting Bloch high in the chest. Bloch jerked, dropping his weapon as he fell. He clutched his right collar bone with both hands. Matthew walked closer and kicked the rifle out of reach, just to be safe.

  There was a sudden silence as the helicopter propeller went still. “Good going, Matt,” the pilot said, climbing out. “I radioed for help, pronto.”

  Matthew was breathing hard as he stared down at the writhing Bloch. “I should kill you, Bloch. You killed Weasel and you killed Rachel Stein and you made sure a lot of guys died in Vietnam who didn’t need to die. You let Ryder get in over his head and you let him stay there.”

  “Ryder was my commanding officer—”

  “Ryder was a jackass and you knew it. But you let him keep fucking up—you kept him alive when anyone else that green and that stupid would either have learned or been killed. You encouraged him to believe his father would be impressed by seeing his unit in action. You knew he was giving me bad information, that the area was still hot, but you didn’t stop him, you didn’t report him, you didn’t tell me what the fuck was going on. So we came in unprepared, and his father got killed, and Jake and Chuck got killed.”

  “Sam figured everything’d work out.” Bloch’s voice was raspy; he was wincing with pain but not yelling. He’d never been shot before.

  “It didn’t.”

  “I was following orders.”

  “You were already looking toward today.”

  Bloch snorted. “So what’re you going to do about it?”

  “Nothing,” Matthew said. “Not a damn thing but stand here and wait for the police to haul your ass out of here.”

  Juliana had made her way to the prone figure of Hendrik de Geer. He was lying on his back, bleeding heavily. She knelt in the sand beside him and touched his shoulder. Warm blood had seeped everywhere. “Don’t try to move,” she said needlessly, taking off her sweater. “I’ll see what I can do about the blood.” He lifted his hand and covered hers, his skin clammy and purplish. “Don’t bother,” he whispered, weak. “I’ve seen many wounds, Juliana. This one…” He smiled a little, shook his head slightly. “Catharina and Willie?”

  “They got away.”

  “Good, that’s good. You must tell them…” He winced, shuddering with pain, and swallowed. His mouth and eyes looked sunken. Juliana tried staunching the blood anyway with her sweater. He went on, his voice even weaker, “You must tell them I’m sorry for Amsterdam. Tell them I was afraid, and I thought too much of myself. I know…I know it makes up for nothing. Being sorry doesn’t help.”

  Juliana nodded, shaking all over. “I’ll tell them.”

  “And tell them, too…” He smiled, clutching her hand with more vigor, and for a moment the piercingly blue eyes focused. “Tell them I did love them both.”

  Twenty-Six

  Alice Feldon was standing at her desk Monday morning when Matthew Stark strolled in with a cup of coffee in one hand and the Post under his arm. She slammed down her phone and stalked over to him. “I’ll warn you right now, Stark, I am one furious editor. I’ve got the big guns all over me because they okayed trips to New York and Antwerp, hotel fees, a concert ticket—all because I promised them a page-one story. And what happens? I read the whole goddamn thing on the fucking wires! Senator’s fishing camp used to stockpile weapons, two men dead, retired army sergeant arrested, senator denying he knew anything about what was going on, world-famous piano player hugging her mother knee-deep in some godforsaken place called the Dead Lakes—Jesus Christ! There’s even a photo of you, you sonofabitch, punching out Sam Ryder.”

  Matthew drank some of his coffee. “Yeah. Felt good, too. Should have done it years ago.” He grinned. “Relax, Feldie.”

  “Relax!” She was indignant. “I’ll relax, you lazy shit, when your butt’s out of here!”

  “Get yourself a cup of coffee, a pencil, and a pad of paper and pull up a chair.”

  She dropped her glasses on the end of her nose and narrowed her eyes at him. “You’ve got something.”

  He laughed. “Facts, Feldie, just facts.” He yelled across the newsroom. “Ziegler—get your butt over here!” He looked back to Feldie and grinned. “I think it’s time he made some points around here. He can help you write the story.”

  “Help me?”

  “Yeah. You remember how, don’t you?”

  “Stark—”

  “Quit dawdling, Feldie.”

  “Damn you, I’m your
editor—”

  “Fact one,” he said, starting across the newsroom to his desk, “Senator Samuel Ryder, Jr., not only knew about Sergeant Phillip Bloch’s activities but approved them and helped him buy some of the arms and set up his new base in the Caribbean. Fact two: he did so because Bloch was blackmailing him because he knew Ryder had directed the helicopter carrying U.S. Senator Samuel Ryder, Sr.—his own father—into an area he knew still to be hot. The chopper was shot down, and three people, including his father, died. How much Sam, Jr., was actually responsible for may be debatable, but Bloch exploited Ryder’s unadmitted guilt over the incident. Fact three: Otis Raymond was the door gunner in the helicopter in which Ryder, Sr., was killed, and he saved Ryder, Jr.’s life. Bloch found out Otis was snitching to me in order to get Ryder’s butt out of trouble one more time. Bloch will be indicted for his murder.”

  “Jesus Christ, Stark, I get the picture.”

  Matthew grinned. “And I haven’t even gotten to the part about the world’s largest uncut diamond.”

  “Let me get coffee. Why don’t you just start writing?”

  “I can’t, Feldie. I’m part of the story.”

  She looked at him. “Okay. Give me a minute.”

  She and Aaron Ziegler pulled up chairs and took notes as Matthew gave them everything he had—except one tiny fact.

  “You never saw this diamond?” Feldie asked.

  A paperweight for jam recipes; only Juliana. “No.”

  “Then there’s still no proof it exists?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What about the Peperkamps?”

  “Call them. They’ll tell you what they told me: it’s a myth.”

  “So Ryder was wrong?” Alice shook her head. “So all that scrambling for nothing.”

  “For a chance, Feldie. For a chance.”

  “I guess. Ziegler, get going and type up these notes.”

  Aaron looked at Matthew. “Are you sure you want it this way?”

  “I’m sure,” Matthew said. Zeigler nodded and headed for his desk, moving fast; he knew what he had. Matthew handed his editor a neatly typed sheet of paper.