Emma rang off and glanced at Sumner. His head had fallen back against the sofa and his eyes were closed.
“Sumner!” Emma cracked out the word and his head snapped up. Relief washed over her. “Sorry, I got worried. I thought you were asleep.”
“Just resting.” He took a sip from the glass.
“It was Stromeyer on the phone. She said there’s a weapons sale that is going to occur on the island and she wants us to check out two villas.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And if we find it?”
“Then we’re supposed to stop it from going forward.”
Emma felt a mixture of concern and exhilaration. The entire project on Terra Cay had seemed doomed from the start, but now she had a chance to salvage the week and put some money in the coffers. Darkview occasionally used her as a consultant, and paid her well. She was happy about the payday but concerned about the danger. “She said you knew about the weapon. Why don’t you run it down for me?” She listened as Sumner told her about the bullet and its properties.
“The good news is that it’s very valuable and so it’s doubtful they’ll use it to shoot at us. If they do, the other good news is that it has an extremely high failure rate, so our odds of getting hit are lower than with regular bullets.”
“And the bad news?” she asked.
He inhaled. “Well, they are arms dealers.”
“And will be well provisioned with conventional weapons that will work just fine.”
“Exactly,” he said.
“Stromeyer didn’t know how many people we’re dealing with, but my guess is that Joseph the Assassin is among them.” Emma started pacing the length of the room. “I don’t think you can just march up to the villa and take a look around. They’ll pick us off as we do. And there’s just two of us and God knows how many of them.”
She paced back and forth, planning. The rain hammered into the windows and thunder cracked all around them. Sumner kept silent, watching her as she paced. “We’ll need to infiltrate the villa. Maybe lure them outside. Distract them. While they’re running around, we slip inside and take stock. We’re in luck that most of the island staff has left. Fewer people to see us.”
“The rain’s going to be troublesome.”
Emma went to the kitchen and retrieved an island map from a drawer. She brought it back and spread it out on the cocktail table in front of Sumner.
“Here are the two villas that she mentioned. The first is at the base of the West Hill by the beach. It’s a huge estate and there’s a path cut into the mountain that goes right past it. I know because I’ve run it. The second villa is here.” She pointed at the map. “As far from the first as you can imagine. The owner of the first has a reputation on the island of being a recluse.” She looked at Sumner. “And it was his mistress that you found hanging from the tree in St. Martin. I think that’s where we’ll start,” Emma said.
Sumner moved the map toward him and studied it.
“Explain the topography to me. You say there’s a beach, but is there anything else?”
“The first estate has its own private dock. It’s one of the few houses on the island that does, because most are built up the side of the mountain in order to maximize the view of the ocean.”
“Any hazards?”
“Plenty. The witch woman has a garden of earthly poisons situated on the trail and halfway up the mountain. That makes me think she must live nearby. I wouldn’t want to stumble upon her if I could help it. She’s never threatened me with a gun, so I hope she won’t be a factor here, but one can never tell. Other than that, the only other hazard I can think of is the beach itself. The path at the bottom runs along a large stand of manchineel trees that separates the beach from the property. They have acid sap that pours off of them in the rain. They form an effective natural barrier between the beach and the house itself.”
“Acid sap,” Sumner said. “Lovely. So avoid running under them.”
“Exactly. The path is close, and if the rain continues to blow as hard as it is,” Emma waved a hand at the windows, “it’s not impossible that some will spray you. However, I think that this side of the house probably represents the best chance we have to approach, because it’s likely that the owner is relying on the trees to fend off any trespassers. Warning signs mark the area and no one would pass under the trees if they could help it.”
“Would the raincoats and hats be enough to protect us?”
Emma shrugged. “For the most part, but the blowing rain and wind would mean that we’d have to be completely covered. Even a small drop can raise a blister. Maybe we wrap scarves over our faces and use sunglasses to protect our eyes.”
“What if a drop gets in our eyes?”
“That can cause blindness. Probably temporary, but in large amounts it could be permanent.”
“Sounds too risky. What about the rest? Security system?”
“Closed circuit cameras and guard dogs. We can carry meat to hold off the dogs, but the cameras present a problem.”
“You said Oz is here. Can he help with the cameras?”
“Perhaps. But if this storm continues, it may be our best ally. It’s likely that if his guards perform patrols, they’d be suspended and the rain will cut down on the cameras’ visibility. We couldn’t ask for better cover. Of course if the electricity goes off, then we have an even easier time of it.”
“He probably has a generator, though. Houses of that size usually do.”
“Much easier to disable a generator. But whatever we do requires that we get onto the grounds.”
“What about the dock?”
“I never saw it so I can’t be of much help.”
“How bad were the waves when you docked? Can they be navigated?”
“The storm was just starting out when we docked so it’s hard to say, but I would guess that Siren’s Song is capable of riding out the waves. However, I have no idea how deep the water is on approach. There’s a chance of shoaling at several island locations, and the situation may be the same here.” She thought for a moment and then shook her head. “On second thought, Marwell told me that Carrow’s boat was actually one of the smallest on the island. It follows that a Russian billionaire likely has a large yacht. If he docks his own then it’s probably safe to assume the area leading up to the dock is safe enough for a boat the size of the Siren’s Song.”
“But there’s still the problem of the cameras.”
“And the guard dogs.”
“And the guards themselves.”
“And the other arms dealer guests.”
Sumner frowned. “This one requires a SEAL team, not two contract security personnel.”
Emma took a sip of her drink. “No chance of that happening. It would take too long to assemble one and get it here. By the time they do, the sale will have been completed.”
Sumner rubbed his face and stared at the map. “Can we do it?”
Emma looked at the map, too, and again ran all the obstacles through her mind.
“I think we can. Worse comes to worse we look in the windows, see if we’re outnumbered, and hightail it out of there before they come for us. Make a calculated retreat.”
He touched his glass to hers. “To thoughtful retreats. May they not be necessary.”
“Amen,” she said.
Chapter 42
Kemmer stared out the Jeep’s window and tried to focus. He felt light-headed and his arm was once again bleeding.
“I need a doctor,” he said. “Why the hell aren’t we going to the Acute Care Center?” Carrow pulled into the driveway of a two story villa, modest by Terra Cay standards, and killed the engine.
“He didn’t answer the phone so I assume he wasn’t there. This is his house. Let’s go,” Carrow said. Oz helped Kemmer out of the car and dragged him to the front door. The rain made Kemmer squint as it hit his face. He was thankful for the support of Carrow and Oz, as he wasn’t sure he could walk on his own. They reached the door and pounded on it. No soun
d came from within. Carrow grasped the knob and turned. It swung open, revealing an empty hallway.
“Dr. Zander, you there?” Carrow called down the hall. No response. “There’s a small office in the back of the house with supplies. He sometimes takes patients there, let’s go.” They helped drag Kemmer through the house to the back. Kemmer hated the silence and the emptiness.
“The guy isn’t here,” he said. They opened the office door and switched on the light. Kemmer blinked to adjust his vision, which was swerving in and out of focus. A man slept on an examination table, his white coat fallen open to reveal a polo shirt underneath and khaki pants.
“So much for the doctor,” Carrow said.
“I need stitches. Bad,” Kemmer said.
Carrow looked at Oz. “Can you do it?”
Oz shook his head. “I would rather not. You?”
Carrow sighed. “No, but it may be time to change the bandage. Let’s move Zander into his own bed and shift Kemmer onto the table.”
Twenty minutes later Kemmer watched with dread as Carrow began to unwind the field dressing that Emma had fashioned. The edges of the bandage stuck to the wound and Kemmer hissed in pain as Carrow pulled on it.
“Oz, can you find any scissors in the cabinets? I’ll cut it off rather than pull it off,” he said.
Oz started rooting through the cabinets and removed a pair of doctor’s shears.
“Want me to sterilize them?” he asked.
“Good idea. Dump some alcohol on them,” Carrow said. Oz took a bottle from a nearby counter and held the shears over a sink as he poured the alcohol. He handed them to Carrow, who clipped at the stuck portions of field dressing. “That’s done. Get ready, because I’m going to pour alcohol on it and it’s going to sting like a bitch.” He handed Kemmer a bottle with an elaborate label.
Kemmer looked at it in disbelief. “Port? What kind of sissy drink is this? You’re going to burn me up with alcohol and all you got to give me is port?” He shoved it back at Carrow. “Forget it. Get me some morphine.”
“I doubt that the doctor keeps morphine in his home. It’s a controlled substance, so likely under lock and key back at the Acute Care Center.”
“Then take me the hell there.” A crack of lightning lit the room.
“I don’t have the combination for the safe.”
“Then get me some from your villa. Everyone knows that rock stars have the best drugs.”
Carrow snorted. “By now every line’s been inhaled, I can assure you. Best I can offer is this port or a drive up the hill for some mandrake powder. Which is iffy, for a lot of reasons. It hurt my drummer, but helped my bass player. You’re welcome to take a long, bumpy ride up to the West Hill to get it, but I can’t guarantee that you’ll survive the trip. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”
Kemmer put a hand out. “Give it to me.” Carrow handed over the bottle and Kemmer drank a deep sip. He lowered the bottle and started to cough. “Damn, that’s nasty.” He waved Carrow over. “Get it done.”
Carrow nodded and bent to the task of pouring alcohol on the wound. Kemmer stayed sitting and averted his eyes. He groaned when Carrow started, but kept the port bottle at his lips and drank. When it was empty he tossed it into a nearby sink situated under a cabinet of supplies. It hit the ceramic with a loud clanging noise. He leaned back on his good arm while Carrow continued.
Carrow was applying a fresh piece of gauze when Kemmer’s eyes went out of focus and he felt himself wobbling on the one arm that held him upright. He turned his head to look over Carrow’s shoulder, out the opposite window. From the darkness he saw a face form in the window, and before he could scream Joseph used the handle of his gun to smash the glass.
Tiny glass shards flew in all directions. Carrow stumbled backward and Kemmer rolled off the examination table, dragging the replacement gauze roll with him. He dropped the three feet down to the floor. Staying low, he scrambled on all fours to the open door. Bigger pieces of glass rained down on him as Joseph kicked the rest of the window out of the frame.
Joseph fired a shot without aiming, mostly to prove a point to those inside. He wouldn’t put it past Kemmer to have a weapon on him. Hauling himself through the opening, he led with the gun hand first. A young man with hair to his shoulders was slumped in the corner next to the door, unconscious. Kemmer had disappeared through the open door. Joseph was surprised that the man had survived, but for the moment he didn’t care about him. All he wanted was his money, and that would require recovering the minerals and killing the chemist, in that order. He pointed the gun at Carrow.
“Give me the minerals from the blue holes and you’ll live,” he said.
“I don’t have them, mate,” Carrow replied.
“Where is she?” Carrow looked at the gun in Joseph’s hand. Joseph watched him struggle to decide what to say and thought he needed an additional incentive. “Tell the truth or I’ll blow you away.”
“She’s at Island Security.”
Joseph paused. He recognized Carrow now, and for all his hubris back at the villa and his claims that he’d kill everyone in his path, he didn’t think killing a well-known celebrity was a good idea. It would bring a shit storm of trouble his way. For sure he’d never get another job once his face was plastered on an Interpol most wanted list. The people who hired him expected discretion. “That your Jeep outside?”
“Yes.”
“Then take me there.” Joseph aimed at the man in the corner. “Who’s the pretty boy?”
“That’s my bass player,” Carrow said. “Known the world over. You kill him and every police officer in the universe will be hunting you.”
“Shut up. You think I care?” Joseph wanted to shoot the man just to prove to Carrow that he was capable of it. He gave the man in the corner another glance. He couldn’t recall the faces of the other band members, but the man looked the part of a rock musician, with his long hair and pretty face. His unconscious state puzzled Joseph. He appeared to be out cold, and that seemed odd. His initial bullets hadn’t hit him as far as he could tell. He gave a mental shrug. Another one he could deal with later. “Let’s go.”
He followed Carrow out of the house. Wind-driven rain bit at his face the moment he cleared the entranceway. Carrow’s hair worked its way out of a ponytail and started whipping around his head. Joseph winced against the storm’s onslaught and kept his gun pointed at the singer’s back. Carrow stepped farther out and stopped. There was no Jeep in the drive.
“It’s gone,” Carrow said. Kemmer, Joseph thought. He swore.
“Back in the house.” Joseph herded Carrow back inside. A small table near the door held a charging station and three phones, along with a wallet and a set of keys. Joseph reached out and scooped up the keys. One of them carried a Ford logo. “To the garage.”
The wind worked at them again as they struggled their way to the garage. Joseph hit a button on the keychain and the door slowly began to lift. Inside they found a small blue Ford Focus. Joseph held the keys out to Carrow. “You drive.”
“To Island Security?”
Joseph shook his head. “No. To the villa called the Blue Heron.”
Chapter 43
The phone rang again and Emma hated to have to answer it. Her reluctance must have shown on her face, because Sumner said, “Want me to get it?” She picked it up.
“Joseph just broke into the doctor’s house and kidnapped Carrow,” Oz told her. “He wants the minerals and you. Carrow said you were at Island Security, but I just called and no one answered. I figured you were back at the villa. Get the hell out of there.”
“Are you safe?” Emma asked.
“Yes. I played dead. And Kemmer took off. He’s in bad shape, but Carrow switched up the bandage on his wound. I don’t trust that guy. I think it’s fifty-fifty that he throws in with Joseph and his crew.”
“I agree, he’s not to be trusted. Sumner’s here with me and he has a gun. You stay safe.” She slammed the phone down.
“The k
iller made it to the island,” she told Sumner. “He’s headed to Island Security, but when he discovers that I’m not there he’ll come here. I have a gun in the bedroom.” Emma hurried to her room and grabbed her weapon. Sumner was right behind her, holding his gun.
“We need to get out of here,” he said. “There are too many windows and too many entrances. We can’t cover them all.”
“Okay, but where?”
“Where will he go if he can’t find you here?”
Emma thought a moment. “To Carrow’s. The West Hill. It’s the logical next place because he knows that Carrow was with me on the boat.”
“Then we’d better get there before he does. He’ll take anyone left in the villa hostage and use them as bait to get you to do what he wants.”
Emma was heading back to the front door as Sumner spoke.
“God forbid he does, because it will work. I won’t let them die to save my own skin. He can have the minerals, for all I care.”
“I doubt that’s all he wants. I think he wants you and me dead. We need to warn the others and then get off this island,” Sumner said. Emma threw on the rain slicker she’d taken from the boat and slipped back into the Wellington boots. She checked her gun’s magazine.
“Do you have any more ammunition?” Sumner had his own coat back on.
“No. I’ve got seventeen rounds. You?”
“Thirteen. This isn’t my weapon, it’s the owner’s, and I don’t know where he keeps his extra ammunition.”
Emma waved Sumner to the back of the house. She was halfway through the villa when she heard the sound of an engine revving in the distance. It accelerated and stayed at that intensity before reducing.
“Sounds like they’re stuck.”
“With any luck, they are.”
The noise of the struggling auto diminished as they reached the back of the villa. They ran past Johnson’s closed door and Emma said a small prayer that the killer would leave her alone. They stepped into the kitchen.
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