Whistler's Angel (The Bannerman Series)

by Maxim, John R.

  But while watching through his mirror, he had also noticed Crow. Crow had hardly made a sound, except some gagging and coughing, since Kaplan had warned him that he’d shoot him if he spoke. Kaplan thought he had recovered from the thumb in his throat, but now Crow looked as if he was choking to death. Kaplan nudged Lockwood. He said, “Check out the wacko.”

  Crow’s eyes were shut, his fists were clenched, and his face was the color of pastrami. Small drops of bloody spittle squeezed out through his lips. Kaplan realized he was holding his breath.

  “Hey, Crow,” said Lockwood. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Crow began to hum softly, atonal, low-pitched.

  “That’s how babies look,” said Kaplan, “when they’re trying to shit. Hey, Josh, are you having some rectal discomfort? What that comes from is having your head up your ass, but don’t worry; you’ll feel better soon.”

  Crow made no response. “I think he’s praying,” said Lockwood.

  “Either that, or he’s trying to levitate,” said Kaplan. “Hey, Josh, can you do that? Have you factored in the roof? The roof could be a problem if you’re trying to float away.”

  Crow began rocking in time with his humming. He opened one eye. It was glaring at Kaplan. He exhaled a blast of air and he threw himself forward. He clawed at Kaplan’s throat with both hands.

  Kaplan cursed. The Pontiac swerved. Lockwood’s fist shot out. It caught the side of Crow’s head. Crow fell back, but he quickly recovered. He raised both feet and tried to kick at Lockwood. Kaplan touched the brakes to slow the car down because the crew of the garbage truck was a half block ahead and they didn’t need the garbage guys seeing this. Crow kicked twice more at Lockwood. Lockwood cocked his fist again, but then he said, “Screw this.” Instead, he reached for his Glock.

  Kaplan said, “Put that away. Just keep the putz off me.”

  “This guy’s fucking nuts.”

  “I been telling you that.”

  “So let’s save ourselves some trouble. He goes now.” He raised the Glock.

  “No, don’t,” said Kaplan quickly. “We’re here to help him, remember?” Just keep the guy off me. No guns.”

  Lockwood blinked, confused. “Will you make up your mind?”

  “I remembered our instructions, is all.”

  Kaplan didn’t want him shot for a number of reasons. The most obvious reason was that Leslie was there and she’d be an eyewitness to murder. That likelihood, however, would cut no ice with Lockwood, however, because in his head she was on borrowed time. If Lockwood did pull the trigger, however, he’d notice that nothing much happened. Lockwood might then realize that the last time he checked, his gun had a round in the chamber. He might realize, therefore, that if someone removed it, that someone could only have been Arnold Kaplan. This would not be good. Not here, not now. It could cause an untimely falling-out.

  “Vernon…the gun. Put it down now, will you please? Hey, Leslie? How’s it going? You okay?”

  A muffled, “No, I’m not okay, damn it.”

  “Well, as long as you’re back there, keep an eye on him, will you?”

  “Me watch him? You want me to watch him?”

  “Just keep your eyes open. Sing out if he moves. Not for long. We’ll be stopping in a minute.”

  “You’re crazy. You know that?”

  “Some of us more than others. Are you watching? What’s our friend doing now?”

  “He’s…curled up hugging his golf bag and humming. He opened a zipper that runs down the side. There’s some stuff spilling out of the bag.”

  “What kind of stuff, Leslie? You see any plastic pipe?”

  “No, it’s food. A sandwich. And two bottles of Snapple.”

  “Watch out that he doesn’t pick up one of those bottles.”

  “He can’t. They rolled down on me.”

  “Especially watch out for any white plastic pipe. Make sure you can see both his hands.”

  “What’s this white plastic pipe?”

  “You see it or not?”

  “No, I don’t. And he’s back in a fetal position. Hey, where are you guys taking me?”

  “To a house. You’ll be more comfortable. Trust me.”

  “And you’re not going to hurt me?”

  “You’ll be tending bar tomorrow. In the meantime, try to roll with the punches.”

  Next left turn, then a right...that should be Lagoon Road. Get to the house, get this car in the garage. First order of business will be Leslie. Tie her up. Use Crow’s duct tape. Stick her in a closet. Put a radio in there with her and turn it up loud so that she maybe can’t hear what happens next. What happens next is Crow and Lockwood go down. Boom, boom, two head shots, then at last there’s peace and quiet while he waits for Aubrey to show. After that, he disappears. He leaves disposal to Aubrey. He had earned the right to bail on any digging.

  But digging was later. This was now. First things first. He’d considered taking Lockwood’s gun and popping them both with the Glock. No noise would make Leslie even less of a witness. But that would involve holding these two at gunpoint and trying to get Lockwood to hand over his weapon. Lockwood wouldn’t because he would know he’d been crossed and might decide he had nothing to lose. It could get tense. So boom-boom, two quick shots. Noisy is better than sloppy.

  He found Lagoon Road at the end of a sidestreet. From there, the house should be three streets to his right. As he made a right turn he glanced up that same sidestreet and noticed a car that was parked there. That car bothered him for some reason. He tried to think why, and then he realized what it was. He’d seen no other cars that were parked in the street. All the cars around here were in driveways. And that car, in addition, was a black Lincoln Town Car. This was not a Lincoln neighborhood. It was a minivan neighborhood. Minivans, SUVs and a few pick-up trucks. Even so, it was three streets away from the house.

  Kaplan put it out of his mind.

  THIRTY FOUR

  Whistler, once again, had wasted his breath telling Claudia that she couldn’t come with him. He was tempted to leave her, to drive off without her, but that would have left Claudia with no place to go except back to a boat that might blow at any time. Or if not, she’d be found there by Moore.

  They made it to the car without being seen. Shielded by other cars in the lot, he popped the trunk and reached in for the canvas tote that held the Ingram Mac-10 and the decksweeper shotgun.

  “I’ll take those,” said Claudia. “You drive.”

  He said, “You won’t take them. You won’t even touch them. I’m putting this bag on the floor at your feet, but that’s only so that I can reach them.”

  “As you wish.”

  “Keep them covered with that sail bag. Don’t touch them.”

  “I heard you.”

  “I’m still dropping you off at Jump & Phil’s. It’s the one place where you’ll be safe.”

  “And I think you heard me,” she said. “No, you’re not.” She climbed in with the bag and both weapons.

  Okay, thought Whistler, he’d have this out with her later. On the other hand, it might not matter in the end. He realized, of course, that there wasn’t much chance of him spotting the car that took Leslie. But he knew that there were only so many places where that green Pontiac could have gone.

  “They went that way,” said Claudia. “Up Palmetto Bay Road.”

  “I’d like you to be quiet.”

  “They still went that way.”

  Whether this was intuition or a thought-out conclusion, he agreed that she was probably right. They would have turned left out of Palmetto Bay. They would not have risked being trapped on the bridge.

  “And they would have kept going,” she said.

  “Going where?”

  “Through the Circle. They wouldn’t have turned.”

  Whistler knew that going through would have made the most sense. On reaching Sea Pines Circle, there were three ways to go. Turning right would have led them past Jump & Phils to the gated
community of Sea Pines. They would not have risked being seen from Jump & Phil’s, not after being spotted there the last time. Nor would they try to get past the Sea Pines gate in a car that was so easily remembered.

  “Keep going through the Circle,” said Claudia.

  “I heard you.”

  He did so because that had been his intention. The green Pontiac almost certainly would not have turned left onto the island’s main parkway. They would have to have assumed that an alarm had gone out, and the parkway was the first route that would have been covered because it led off the island. And they might have a scanner. Crow probably used one. That was how he’d avoided being caught all this time.

  It seemed likely, therefore, that they’d driven through the Circle and headed due east toward the ocean. They’d pass one other gated community, called Shipyard. They would not have gone there either, same reason. There were several hotels, but he could rule them out as well. They would hardly have booked a hotel room. That left private homes as Sergeant Moore had suggested. Moore thought that Crow would find an unoccupied home. The way to bet, therefore, was North Forrest Beach. If so, they were trapped. They had no place to go. And if so, Sergeant Moore would soon realize that as well. Those police not assigned to specific intersections might then mount a house to house search of that area.

  Claudia sat staring forward, sometimes upward. She might have been looking for birds; he didn’t know, but he thought it best not to ask. With birds on his mind, he was suddenly started when he thought he heard the chirp of a bird inside their car. In that instant he realized that it was his cell phone. It was probably Moore calling, asking where they had gone.

  Claudia turned her head toward the source of the sound. She said, “You’d better answer that, Adam.”

  “I know who it is.”

  She squinted. “No, you don’t. You’d better answer it,” she said.

  With a sigh, he pulled the phone from his pocket. He thumbed it open and put it to his ear. He heard the words, “Adam? Is that you?”

  It was a woman’s voice. It was Olivia Ragland. He did not recall giving her this number. He glanced at Claudia, wondering how she could have known. He said, “Yeah, it’s me. Has something happened?”

  “Someone here needs to speak to you. Hold on.”

  Whistler grumbled to himself. He thought it must be her husband. But the

  voice that came on was another female voice. Low, soft spoken, almost gentle, but all business. He knew that voice. He knew it before she spoke her name.

  She said, “Hello, Adam. Where are you at this moment? And is Claudia with you? This is Molly.”

  This was a surprise, but something less than a shock. He might have guessed that she would have grabbed a fast flight after failing to make contact with Olivia. And he’d have thought that she might have been a touch more cordial. It had been sixteen years, after all.

  He replied, “She’s with me. We’re in my rental car. Molly, give me a number; I’ll call you back later. This isn’t a good time to talk.”

  “Adam, Aubrey’s on the island. Did you know that?”

  His stunned silence answered for him. He managed, “You’re sure?”

  “So is Aubrey’s man, Briggs. And another man named Robert. Robert’s in his late twenties, a big man, blond hair. We don’t have a last name for Robert.”

  Whistler had to pull over. He saw a curb cut ahead. It was the entrance to the Bi-Lo Supermarket. He said, “You’re describing Stanton Poole’s bodyguard. Are you sure you don’t mean Vernon Lockwood?”

  “It’s not Lockwood. That one was already here. Listen, Adam…”

  “Just a minute. You knew that? How long have you known that?”

  “Not long. Listen, Adam…”

  “And who is we, Molly? Who else came down here with you?”

  “A few of us flew down at your father’s request. We’re here strictly to keep you from harm and that’s all. As we speak, your father is en route with the twins. Harry knows that it was you in that restaurant last night. Claudia’s mother suspected it as well and decided to fly in on her own. Harry asked us to intercept her and we have. She’s in talking to Ragland at the moment. Take my number.”

  Whistler shook his head in disgust. “Molly, why am I the last one to hear this?”

  “Because you’ve been out of reach. Now you’re not. Take my number.”

  An inward groan. “I don’t believe this,” he said. But he memorized the number of her cell phone.

  She said, “We’ve all had trouble knowing what to believe. We doubted that you were in that restaurant by chance.”

  “We were.”

  “I know that. Olivia told me.”

  “Has Olivia said anything about Claudia’s…performance?”

  “Privately. Only to me. Did that happen?”

  “Yes, it did.”

  “You taught her?”

  “Me? I couldn’t have done that myself. Please do not, in any case, tell her mother about that. The story is that neither of us used that knife. Let’s keep it that way if we can.”

  “Except Claudia knows. How is she handling it, Adam?”

  This question was Whistler’s first inkling thus far of the old Molly Farrell that he’d known. The nice one, the kind one, the compassionate one with whom he had skied and played tennis.

  He answered, “I’m not sure. We’ll see how it settles. Molly…on my way out of Palmetto Bay, I thought I recognized a couple of men. Would one of those men have been Billy McHugh?”

  “Billy and John Waldo. You slipped past them, I take it.”

  “You’re in contact with them? Tell them not to board the boat.”

  “They’ve…surmised that Lockwood had been there for a reason. You think he’s rigged something?”

  “I would bet on a bomb.”

  “Billy says that three men kidnapped a young woman. Two of those men would be Lockwood and Crow. Do you have a name for the third?”

  “No, I don’t, but he witnessed what happened last night. So did the girl who they kidnapped,” said Whistler.

  “Which is why they took her?”

  “That would not have been the reason. I am probably the reason. Look, Molly, I have get moving.”

  “Adam…where are you?”

  “Out looking for them.”

  “You’re out looking for that green Pontiac by yourselves? Adam, you’re up against six of them now. Are you trying to get the both of you killed?”

  “Well…Claudia’s more afraid that it’s Leslie who’ll be killed. She would not find that easy to live with.”

  “Adam, where are you? Please tell me precisely.”

  “Molly, hold on.” He pressed the mute button. He asked Claudia, “How much could you hear?”

  “Most of it. Who is Molly?”

  “That’s a long story. Later.”

  “My mother’s here? Really?”

  “And in very good hands. Don’t worry about her. Molly will want us to sit here and wait for two other men to come and join us. They’re not far away. They’re old friends of my father.”

  “Men who’ve done this sort of thing? Like the twins”

  “Men who’ve been doing it since before you were born. We’d be foolish not to wait for them, Claudia.”

  “How long?”

  “A few minutes.”

  “But not longer than that. I can’t stand knowing that they’ve got Leslie.”

  That was easy, thought Whistler. And it was a relief. If he knew Molly, she’d tell those two to lock Claudia in the trunk until Aubrey was dealt with one way or the other. He’d be all for it. He’d apologize later. But if Molly was there at his father’s behest, she’d be as likely to tell them to stuff him in with her. And those two could do it if they got within reach. He would damned well make sure that they didn’t.

  He released the mute button. “Are you looking at a map?”

  Molly answered, “I am. Go ahead.”

  “Find Sea Pines Circle. We’re a mil
e and a half above it. We’re in a beige Ford Taurus. We’ll be waiting, right hand side.”

  “I got it. I’m putting you on hold.”

  He heard a click and the line went still. He assumed that she was calling John Waldo or Billy. He held the phone to his ear for what must have been a full minute, much too long for Molly just to tell them where he is. They were probably discussing such options as the trunk.

  He heard another soft click. Molly came on again. She said, “That was Carla. She’s somewhere near you. You remember Carla Benedict, don’t you?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Did you know that it was Carla who cut Briggs and Aubrey?”

  “No one said so, but it wasn’t hard to guess.”

  “Listen to me, Adam. She knows where they are. She denies it, but I don’t believe her.”

  “How could she?”

  “Trust me; she could. The ‘how’ part can wait. She is on her way to meet you. I want you to hold her. Keep her there until Billy or John Waldo can join you. One of them will stay near the boat. Introduce her to Claudia. Let them talk.”

  “Um…what for?”

  “She’s only coming to meet you because Claudia’s with you. Otherwise, she’s like you; she works mostly alone. She might try to take that bunch by herself.”

  “With a knife?”

  A patient sigh. “No, Adam. Not with a knife. She is quite well equipped to take out six men, but I’ll say again, that is not why we came here. We’re here to protect you; get you both off this island. Your father needs you to…be healthy.”

  He had heard the hesitation. A near slip. That wasn’t like her. He asked her, “Molly, is my father okay?”

  “Your dad’s fine.”

  “Can I believe you?”

  “He’ll live long than you will, going after six men.”

  “Let me ask you something else. Has he ever been shot?”

  She said, “Adam, he’s fine. We were talking about Carla. She knows, by the way, what Claudia did. I know you’d prefer that I hadn’t told her, but it sold her on stopping whatever she was doing and agreeing to rendezvous with you. She thinks Claudia…never mind…I’m not sure what she thinks. Just make sure that she waits there with you.”