by J. B. Turner
“Huge area to cover.”
De Boer sighed. “But not insurmountable. He’s one step ahead, but not for long. Whatever it takes, this is one fucker we will put back in the box.”
Twenty
In the far distance, Stone saw a speck of light on the dark water. He wondered if it was a boat. He paddled on, seagrass catching one wooden oar as it swept forward. He kept going for a few more minutes until he saw that the light was coming from an island up ahead. It was possible it was just some kayakers camping in the wild. He wondered if they should risk it.
Slowly, quietly, he paddled closer to the island.
“Do you think someone lives there?” Beatrice asked softly.
“I don’t know.”
He edged them closer. A glow emanated through the tangled mangroves.
Stone approached the island and jumped out into the seagrass surrounding the key. He dragged the boat through the reeds to a muddy beachhead that would conceal it from sight.
He headed deeper onto the island, followed closely by Beatrice.
“Are we okay to do this?” she asked.
“We’ll be fine.”
“What if we’re not?”
“Jesus Christ, you’re still alive. Why not hope for the best, huh?” Stone brushed through the mangroves toward the light. It was coming from a primitive wooden shack ten yards or so away.
The smell of a fire burning permeated the air. Food. He was ravenous.
“Hello, anyone home?” Stone shouted. “We got kinda lost out on the bay, hoping for a bit of shelter if possible.”
In a rustle of wings, birds took flight across the Everglades sky.
Stone tried again. “Anyone home? Need some shelter for the night. Hope you don’t mind us crashing in like this.”
Still no answer.
Beatrice was standing beside him. “Someone’s definitely around,” she whispered.
“No question.”
Beatrice cupped her hands and shouted, “Hello! Anyone here?” She swatted away some mosquitos. “Goddamn bugs. Eating me alive.”
Stone cocked his head, and they moved toward the shack. He expected some kayakers to appear at any minute, as the smell of cooking got more distinct.
“No one here,” she said. “How weird is that?”
Stone knocked on the rough wooden door and waited.
“Do you think this is smart?” she asked.
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
Stone pushed open the door and looked inside. The ghostly glow he’d seen came from a paraffin lamp. A sturdy wooden table and chair and a single bed were the only furniture in the space. Maps covered the walls, and more maps lay on the chair beside a compass. Tidal charts. On another wall hung rifles, guns, machetes, knives, a crossbow, and arrows. The smell of burning meat was stronger now.
They stepped inside.
“Someone is living here,” Beatrice said. “Where the hell is he?”
Stone’s gaze was drawn to a door at the far end of the hut. He ambled over to it and pushed it open. It led to an open-air deck, built just a couple of feet above the water. He felt the platform moving to and fro with the ebb of the water.
At the far end of the deck, a pig was roasting over a spit, smoke and the smell of burning flesh filling the sticky air.
“What the fuck is this place?” Beatrice said.
It was clear the key was occupied. Had been, perhaps, for some time. Stone suspected the guy—and it would be a guy out here—was nearby. Maybe fishing. Getting fresh food to cook on his little island.
The more Stone thought about it, the more he wondered if they shouldn’t just head off and find another island to wait out the night before they headed across to the mainland.
Beatrice swatted some mosquitos. “I don’t like it here,” she said.
“I was wondering if we shouldn’t just move on to the next island.”
Beatrice sighed. “This is creeping me out. Where is the guy?”
“He’s out there somewhere. That’s for sure.”
“Do you think he built this place?”
“I don’t know. Might’ve been built a long time ago. And someone has taken it over.”
“This is the middle of nowhere.”
Stone felt sweat running down his back.
“I don’t like it here,” Beatrice said. “I want to go.”
A shot rang out, a shotgun shell whizzing past their heads.
Beatrice grabbed Nathan’s arm and shrieked. He froze.
Out of the darkness emerged a silhouetted man on a boat, shotgun in hand. “Don’t fucking move,” he drawled.
Twenty-One
De Boer was in the lead boat as another followed, powerful lights fixed to their fronts, winding through the twisted mangroves that edged the shallow channel, checking for any signs of life.
He sensed they were closing in on Stone. What wasn’t in dispute was that they were on his tail, perhaps closer than anyone imagined.
The boat edged around the far side of the island.
De Boer was with the old Seminole tracker as they headed to the north of the island. He disembarked with his team as they pushed through the mangroves on the island in the eerie darkness.
The team scrabbled through the undergrowth until they finally reached the center of the island. They came to a ramshackle wooden hut.
De Boer pushed open the door. Inside the hut was what looked like candle wax gathered in a metal bowl. He followed the tracker outside, who was on his hands and knees looking at a pile of leaves and twigs. The man carefully removed the covering, then whipped his head away. Piles of shit, flies and mosquitos eating it.
De Boer nodded. “Makeshift latrine.”
The tracker looked inside and pulled out what looked like a tampon. He held it up.
“That is very interesting,” de Boer said. “I’m guessing there aren’t too many women out and about in uninhabited keys. I think we might assume that this is our actress.”
De Boer turned to his team. “There’s definite signs of life. Very recent. Within the last twenty-four hours maximum. And I would speculate that this is exactly where Nathan Stone and this young woman stopped off.”
A voice in his earpiece.
“Kevin?” It was Bakker on the second boat.
De Boer relayed the find.
“I reckon,” Bakker said, “he’s going to be farther out, much farther out. And he’s got the woman with him.”
De Boer knew the guys on his team were loaded on amphetamines. It would help them keep going for days if need be. “They’re out on one of the islands. I can feel it. Soon as we find them, it’s kill on sight.”
Twenty-Two
The burly man stepped off the airboat and onto the deck. His shotgun was still trained on Stone and Beatrice, who’d raised her hands. The man’s face was burnished a blistered reddish brown from the sun, eyes the palest blue.
“You mind explaining what the hell you’re doing?” the man asked.
Beatrice spoke first. “Sir, I’m really sorry, we’re just kinda lost.”
“Lost . . . You’re damned right you’re lost. What the hell do you think you’re doing? You think it’s acceptable to be on my property? Do you know I own this place?”
“We don’t mean any harm, sir,” she said, “I can assure you.”
“So what the hell are you doing out here?” He stared at Stone. “Cat caught your tongue, son?”
Stone forced a smile as he kept his hands raised. “We had no idea anyone was on this particular island. If we’d known, we wouldn’t have encroached on what’s yours.”
The man eyed them with suspicion.
Beatrice lowered her hands. “Could you not point the gun at me?” she said politely. “I have anxiety issues.”
The man stared at her for what seemed like a lifetime before he burst out laughing. “Anxiety issues? You’re not from Florida, are you?”
“No, sir, I’m from California.”
“California. That explain
s just about everything.”
Stone said, “Sir, we don’t want to impose. But we were hoping to spend the night on your piece of land and then be on our way first thing in the morning.”
The man looked long and hard at him. “Where you from?”
“I live most of the year in Florida,” Stone said.
“I meant, what are you? Who do you represent?”
“What am I? Who do I represent? I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”
“I mean, son, are you from the government? Do you work for the government?”
“The government? No, I don’t work for them.”
The man didn’t look convinced. “You people from the Feds?”
Beatrice smiled. “Hell no.”
The man took a couple of steps forward. He peered at Stone. “You look military. You military?”
Stone took a moment to consider the best response and decided on truth. “I used to be in the army many years back.”
The man stared at him for what seemed like an eternity. “Is that right?”
Stone nodded.
“Where did you serve?”
“Afghanistan. Iraq mostly.”
The man sneered. “Fucking shitholes, right? What the fuck are we over there for? It’s not our fight. Never was.”
Stone said nothing.
“I don’t like people turning up unannounced.”
“Like I said, I’m sorry. Just looking for a place to rest up. I can see you’re a man of honor. A man of principles. And I respect that.”
“I know people who went to Iraq. Son went there. Didn’t come back.”
“Christ, I’m sorry. Truly.”
“Just a fucking kid.” The guy got quiet for a few moments. “You got lucky.”
“Yes, sir, I did.”
“I’m glad you made it back.”
Stone nodded, sensing the man had made a connection with him. “I’m sorry about your son.”
“Only a man who served his country knows what it’s like.”
“That’s right.”
The man pulled up the right sleeve of his shirt. His arm was tattooed with the word Airborne.
“The Screaming Eagles?” Stone said.
The man nodded. “The 101st. Fort Campbell. You know your stuff. I like that. I like that a lot. You’re not some bullshitter.”
Stone glanced at Beatrice before he fixed his gaze on the man again. “You mind putting the gun down? You okay with that?”
“You armed?”
Stone nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“You know how this works, son. I can see you’re not a novice. Very slowly gimme your gun.”
“Just so there’s no misunderstanding,” Stone said, “how do you want me to work it?”
“Kneel down and slide it over toward me. Nice and fucking easy.”
Stone did as he was told.
The man kicked the gun back along the deck behind him. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Stone got slowly to his feet.
The man looked at Beatrice. “Are you armed?”
“No, sir. I’m afraid of guns, actually. I’m nervous around them.”
The man stared at her. “Yeah, figures.”
“Please, you’re scaring me,” Beatrice said. “I promise I’m not a threat to you. I mean, do I even look like a threat?”
The man looked straight at Stone. “And what about you, son? Are you a threat to me?”
Stone shook his head. “We’ve been out on our boat for the last couple of days, and we just want to get back to civilization.”
“So why don’t you?”
Stone tipped his chin toward the water. “I think we started out in a certain direction, but I don’t know . . . we just got kinda lost.”
“You better not be the IRS. I fucking hate the IRS. Robbing bastards.”
Beatrice smiled. “Trust me, we’re not IRS.”
“We just want to rest our heads for the night,” Nathan added.
“If you could find it in your heart to let us stay, I, for one, would be eternally grateful. I’m not really an outdoorsy person, as you can see,” Beatrice said.
The man looked at her long and hard. “You remind me of my wife in her younger days.”
Beatrice flushed. Stone could feel her shaking a little.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you. You understand why I have to be cautious?”
Beatrice nodded. “Perfectly understandable in the circumstances.”
The man’s eyes were hooded. “So, you got lost out here? I’m not sure I buy that.”
Stone said nothing. He sensed the man could sniff out liars.
“Tell me the real story, son, or we’re going to be having problems.”
“Look . . . I want to be straight with you. It’s a bit complicated.”
“Your story’s changing . . . It’s complicated . . . How so?”
Stone sighed. “We’re on the run. And we need to hide out.”
The man kept his gun trained on Stone. “You’re fleeing the law?”
Stone looked at Beatrice. “You want to explain to this gentleman?”
She winced. “Some people want him dead. And me too.”
The man stared at her. “You shitting me?”
“It’s not easy to explain.”
“How did you meet him?”
“Long story. I was paid to chat him up at a bar in Miami and then get him to a party.”
“A party . . .”
“I thought it was an audition. And I was paid. But it was just a ruse. I’m not making sense, am I?”
The man still had his finger on the trigger of his shotgun. His gaze fixed on Stone. “Why would they want you dead?”
Stone said, “Not sure you’d believe me if I told you.”
“You wanna try me?”
Stone hesitated but realized he had no choice. The man wasn’t going to entertain any more stalling or bullshitting. “A few years back—and this is classified; being an ex-military man, you’ll know what I’m talking about—I worked sensitive jobs for the government.”
“So, you do work for the government?”
“No. I used to in the past. I was contracted by the government.”
“What kind of contracts?”
Stone said nothing.
“I’m waiting for an answer, son.”
“They paid me money and I killed people. I was an assassin.”
Beatrice closed her eyes. “This is a nightmare. Please don’t talk about things like that.”
The man said, “Why are you with him?”
Beatrice grimaced. “He told me that the people who hired me would kill me if I didn’t tag along with him.”
“What are you talking about?”
She explained in great detail exactly how she had been recruited for a fake audition and all the rest.
“That’s a crazy fucking story.”
Stone forced a smile. “We’re not here to make trouble. We just want to hide out for a few hours. I suspect they’ll have sent people to try and find us.”
“You’re damn right they will.” He glanced at Beatrice. “Your friend’s right. They will kill you.”
The man lowered the shotgun. “I like people who speak the truth. Tell me more about these people who are wanting to kill you.”
Stone said, “I think they’re linked to the government. Hired by an organization that’s used by the government.”
“Our government? The American government?”
“Indirectly, yes.”
“CIA?”
“Very probably linked in some way.”
The man grinned, exposing stained teeth in the moonlight. He looked at Beatrice. “Why does that not surprise me? This country, we were born free. But somewhere along the line the government seems to have taken charge of everything. And I mean everything.”
Stone nodded. “Are we good?”
“I believe so. Here’s the deal: You play nice and don’t try anything stupid, and you can hide out here o
vernight. You don’t play straight—and let me tell you, and no bull—we got a problem. Are we clear?”
Stone nodded. “Absolutely crystal clear, sir.”
The man stepped forward and shook Stone’s hand. “Hunter Fredericks, pleased to meet you.”
“Jimmy Ryan,” he lied.
Fredericks stepped forward and shook Beatrice’s hand. “And you’re an actress?”
Beatrice blinked away the tears and nodded as if in shock.
“I never meant to fire my weapon like that. Just had it as a precaution. Force of habit. It’s the South, we look after ourselves.”
“I understand.”
The man showed them back into the hut. “Not much, grant you, but it’s all I’ve got. And for tonight it’s yours.”
Beatrice swatted away a mosquito. “How do you live out here? This is crazy.”
“I fought in Vietnam. That was crazy, let me tell you. This? Piece of cake. You just gotta toughen up. Gotta be resilient.”
Beatrice put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m freaking out with all the wildlife. And the dark. I don’t like it.”
“Grew up not far from here. This doesn’t scare me. This environment protects me. It’s nature’s shield. Speaking of which, I caught some beautiful fish. I’m going to cook ’em up with the roast pig. How does that sound?”
Beatrice looked at Stone, who nodded and smiled encouragingly. “Sounds great.”
Fredericks was as good as his word. He fed them and allowed them to use the rudimentary shower he had constructed. Then he opened up an eighteen-year-old bottle of single malt. He handed them chipped mugs and poured in the liquor.
He raised his mug. “To your good health and this wonderful country!”
Stone knocked backed his drink. The Scotch warmed his guts. It felt good.
Beatrice winced as she swigged hers. “Jesus, that was nice,” she said.
Fredericks looked pleased. “It is, isn’t it?” He filled up their mugs again. He took a gulp and sighed as his gaze wandered between them. “Helluva way to get to know people,” he said.
Beatrice smiled. “I’m very grateful for your hospitality out here, let me tell you.”
“We’re fellow Americans. We look after each other, right? That’s the rules.”
Stone nodded. “You mind me asking how you ended up out here?” he asked.