JoJo nodded gravely, understanding from Claire’s tone it really was important.
“I want you to hurry up to the house and find Charlie.” JoJo nodded. “Tell Charlie to call Jack, right now. He should call Jack and tell him to see if he can get copies of Liz’s pictures. You got that?”
“Get Liz’s pictures,” JoJo repeated. “Okay.”
“Right away! Tell him we need them immediately.” JoJo nodded her understanding. “And Charlie should tell Jack I went with your grandfather and Neil on his new boat, but we should be back in an hour or so. Can you remember all that?”
JoJo nodded soberly.
“Do it now! You have to find Charlie, right away! Will you do that?”
JoJo nodded again and moved toward the house spurred to action by Claire’s intensity.
“Claire, are you coming?”
Neil had already untied the line from the front of boat and he was working on the stern line now while David was at the controls. Claire made up her mind just as the boat started to glide away from the dock, leaping onto the platform, scrambling through the little gate and up the steep stairs to the bridge where David was deftly steering the boat toward the opening into the Bay.
She moved out of Neil’s way as he followed her up the stairs and turned and waved one last time to JoJo before she disappeared into the house, feeling a little foolish now about the urgency of sending that message to Jack. But at the same time she felt relieved for having set in motion a possible solution for the dreams she had been having.
“Well, you’re dressed for a sail.” Neil nodded with approval at her shorts and tennis shoes.
“What do you think?” He was in an expansive mood. His grin was wide and his eyes sparkled. Even the tick in his eye was barely noticeable.
“It’s a wonderful boat,” she agreed looking around her at the comfortable table and banquet behind her and the posh chairs in front of the console where David sat.
“Motor-yacht. It’s a motor-yacht, not a boat,” he explained proudly, eagerly taking over control of the boat while describing the features of the craft to David. “It’s got a 15’4” beam and draft of 57 inches...” then noticing Claire behind him, “Go downstairs and check it out. Here, take the forward stairs.” He pointed at the door beside his chair.
As she headed carefully down the steep stairs he called out behind her, “When you come back up, bring some beers. We need to christen this vessel.”
Claire was astounded by the main cabin. It was like a small townhouse. The kitchen was fully equipped with stove, refrigerator, oven, microwave and even a dishwasher. There was a large TV and a stereo somewhere, because light jazz was playing softly. She moved forward and looked at the console under the windows. It appeared to be equipped with the same electronics she had seen up top, but maybe there were more things here. She admired the buttery soft leather banquet, which wrapped around behind the console so guests could sit and kibitz with the person driving. Then she considered her choice of words. She wasn’t sure “driving” a boat was correct. Maybe “piloting” was the right word.
She moved down another level to the master bedroom with a king size bed, its own bathroom and a little office. It looked very comfortable and certainly organized. There appeared to be very little room to acquire clutter on a boat. People who lived on boats must be disciplined not to buy useless knick-knacks at every port they visited. The second bedroom was in the bow and the bed was tucked up into the pointy part. Still it looked comfortable.
She was awed by the grandeur she saw. She had very little knowledge of boats, but after seeing how luxurious this motor-yacht was she couldn’t even imagine what the yachts owned by billionaires looked like. They must be mind-boggling.
She remembered the beer and helped herself to three bottles from the generous supply in the refrigerator and then headed upstairs. She had to stop a minute and think, because she needed at least one hand to hold onto the rail to go topside. Finally she stuck one bottle neck down in her back pocket, held two by the neck with her left hand and used her right hand to hold on as she climbed up the ladder-like stairs.
She handed out the beer, toasted with them to the new boat and then settled in comfortably at the table, content to watch the scenery, enjoy the breeze in her hair and wonder why she was still so edgy.
* * *
“Do you have the mugging marked correctly?” Jack asked Wiley.
They were in a conference room at Vantage. Marcus, Jack and Wiley were going over all the pieces, cross checking the data in an effort to find some clue they, and everyone else, missed.
Wiley stood in front of a large white board, using colored markers to draw a timeline of events. Marcus wrote facts on little Post-it notes, which he then attached to the board at the appropriate places on the timeline.
A phone rang and eyes swiveled as Jack grabbed for his jacket, slung over one of the chairs. “That’s mine. Sorry for the interruption, guys.” He turned away from them and spoke quietly in the phone.
“What? Are you sure? Okay, that’s what she said. Okay, yeah. Okay. When was that? Any reason why? Okay. Call me here again if anything changes. Yeah, thanks. And, Charlie, thank JoJo for me. She did a good job.”
Marcus and Wiley were waiting expectantly to hear what the call was about.
“That was Charlie. Claire sent JoJo with a message to tell me I needed to get Liz’s pictures from the tour in England right away.” He was obviously puzzled. “And she wanted me to know she went out on the Bay for a cruise with Neil and David.”
“So what do you think? Why did she want those pictures? Do you have them?”
Jack shook his head, too many questions at once. “I don’t know why she wants them, but I guess I’d better see about getting them here.”
“Do you have them?”
He shook his head. “Did either of you get a set of them?”
No, both had heard about them, but neither Wiley nor Marcus had seen the pictures.
Arnie White was on the Springer Tour and had somehow gotten Liz’s exposed film after she left the group. Liz’s pictures, as well as the pictures he had taken had ended up documenting Rosa’s role in the plot. Claire had retrieved the pictures, along with her own at the photo shop in Conwy before learning of Arnie’s fatal accident. She hadn’t thought of them again until she found them in her bag in Heathrow Airport.
“Well, I’d better see how to get a set here.” He poked a series of numbers in his cell phone, and then said, “Wonder why she wanted me to know she went out with Neil and David?”
“Maybe because we told her she was confined to the house?” Wiley suggested.
Marcus nodded. “Could be. She wouldn’t just ignore our instructions.”
He and Wiley turned back to their tasks while Jack began his quest of tracking down copies of the pictures.
“Okay, finally. The pictures are on their way to you, Wiley. Can you get into your computer and print them off?”
Wiley nodded. “Sure. I think I have this right.” He capped the marker he was using and laid it on the table. “Maybe you can check my times while I’m gone, Jack.” Then just as he was leaving the room, “How many pictures are we looking for?”
“I don’t know. I think two rolls. Maybe you can get someone to print them off for us and you can get back here.”
Wiley nodded, disappearing down the hall.
Jack was checking Wiley’s timeline against the notes he had accumulated when Marcus’ voice broke his concentration. “Excuse me. I didn’t hear all that. I was concentrating. Can you repeat your question?”
“You worked with Claire before, Jack. What do you think? Is she some kind of kook? I mean what’s with this request for pictures from across the ocean. Does she know something, or does she just like attention?”
“Neither. She’s definitely not kooky. I know that. I admit I was a little skeptical first, too. But we were reassured after talking to her friend in the San Francisco Police. I have to tell you, since then,
I’ve learned to respect this lady. If she wants those pictures, there is a reason. But sometimes her reasons are based more on intuition than on facts. That’s a bit of a problem for people like us who work from facts.”
Marcus nodded but then said, “Well, maybe not. Some of my toughest cases were solved because of some idea or feeling someone who was working on the case had. So I guess I can understand what you’re saying. But, look at this board. This is crazy. None of this really makes sense. We’re missing something really key to this situation, and it’s driving me crazy.”
“Well, according to my notes, Wiley has the timeline right. Let’s go over your facts on the Post-its. You read them off and I’ll check against my notes.”
* * *
They were moving briskly toward the bridges when Neil finished his beer, turned the wheel over to David and went below. He came back wearing a white yachting cap carrying an ice bucket filled with ice and bottles of beer and some hats for David and Claire.
“This should keep us for a while.” He smiled, plucking a bottle out and twisting the top off. “David, you ready for another?”
“Not quite yet. I’m still working on this one. Say, Neil, what did you say the bridge clearance was on this baby?”
Neil tossed one of the hats to Claire with a warning about the sun and took the other one to David as they continued their discussion of the boat, the features and the responses to the buttons they were poking.
Claire set her half bottle of beer back in the ice bucket. The sun was hot in spite of the breeze, and the cool beer was refreshing, but she could never drink a whole bottle before it started to get warm. This was a perfect solution.
She watched the shore as they passed through the narrow part of the bay and under the parallel bridges crossing the Chesapeake Bay near Annapolis. They crossed over these bridges every time they traveled out to the Lickmans’ from D.C., but they were different from this angle. From the water they looked much higher and seemed more graceful. She waved to some people on a sailboat they passed as that seemed to be what you did when boating – wave to everyone. She saw a couple of huge ships, one some kind of navy vessel, maybe Coast Guard, and another that looked like a container ship heading down the middle of the bay in front of them. Now in the wider part, the Bay seemed gigantic. Here the far shore had disappeared and the near shore was blurred in the haze, or smog, hugging the horizon.
When she glanced at her watch she saw they had been gone for more than a half hour. Well, so much for Neil’s claim they would be back by the time Jack arrived, she thought. But then Jack wasn’t arriving, she remembered, trying to let go of her irritation at Neil. She didn’t even know why she had been so certain this ride on the Bay was not a good thing to do. It seemed safe enough and she realized, listening to David’s and Neil’s conversation, they were both enjoying themselves. They obviously weren’t looking to turn back any time soon.
Resigned, she sipped on the beer and tried to figure out where that request for their tour pictures came from. Well, of course, it came from Liz. After two nights of fighting with her in her dreams, she was on her mind. Claire was a little embarrassed by her dramatics of sending that urgent message to Jack through JoJo. That was really unnecessary. She was sure he would try to get the pictures as soon as possible no matter how difficult it proved to be and truthfully, she had no idea what she was looking for. She suspected she was wasting his time when they were all trying so hard to make sense out of Tony the Pickman’s involvement in this situation.
“Hey, Claire, look lively,” Neil called jokingly.
She smiled as she brought him and David a fresh beer, taking their empties and the little twist caps for the trash container near the table. “Don’t get sloshed now. I don’t want to have to steer this boat back to the dock,” she admonished with humor.
“Not likely in this weather. We’ll sweat it out before the alcohol can even hit the bloodstream.” Then he looked at David. “What say we open her up and see what she can do?”
Claire grabbed for the rail as the craft lunged forward, then carefully managed to get back to her seat at the table, holding onto her hat as she sat back for the ride.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The sun was now relentless. Claire moved over near David, who was somewhat protected from the sun by the tinted windshield.
“How you doing, Claire? Want to sit for a while?” David was always the gentleman.
“No thanks. I just thought I’d get a little relief from the sun. I did use sunscreen this morning, but I don’t know if it can withstand these rays.”
He nodded glancing at his watch. “Whoa, Neil, we’ve been out a long time. MiMi will be getting worried. We’d better head back.” Then he grinned sheepishly at Claire. “Sorry, Claire. I guess we’ve kept Jack waiting, but Neil and I really get into this boat thing, you know?”
Neil was still steering straight, his manner loose and relaxed. And no wonder as he had consumed most of the beer he had brought up in the bucket of ice. He took a big slug, almost draining his bottle.
“Neil, we have to turn back. Jack is waiting and MiMi will be worried,” David repeated.
“I don’t think so.”
The tone was so nonchalant it took a moment for the words to register.
“Neil, turn around, now.” David was becoming angry. He wasn’t used to his wishes being ignored.
“We’re not going back.” Neil turned and looked at them both. “Excuse me. Correction! I’m going back but you, David, and you, Claire, aren’t.” His laugh, a bit off key, sounded weird.
Claire felt the hairs at her neckline stand up and she looked intently at Neil trying to determine what he meant.
David stood up, angry now. “Neil, what the...”
He sat down just as abruptly. The shock on his face might have been funny, but the muzzle of the gun pointed directly at him was not.
“Neil, what’s going on?” This time he remained seated and kept his voice gentle.
“What’s going on, he says?” Then Neil snarled, all his good humor gone, “I’ll tell you. I’m happy to tell you! You know, David. I was very upset when you changed your retirement date. You shouldn’t have done that. You promised me control of the company and then you just decided to postpone it.”
“Neil, I thought you understood. It was just a timing issue.” David put his hands out to Neil. “The plans haven’t changed; they’ve just been delayed a bit.”
“Understood? No, I didn’t understand. You promised me the job and then you decide to wait a couple more years. I wanted that job. I deserved the job. Not later. Now!”
“But Neil I made it clear you were to be my successor –” David tried but Neil interrupted.
“I know, I’m the heir-apparent, waiting quietly in the wings.” He paused and then said abruptly, “I’ll be forty-five next year. Did you know that?”
“Of course, I know it. MiMi and I are already planning a big birthday party for you.” Sweat now appeared beaded on David’s forehead. He was trying to understand what was happening.
Claire stood frozen at the sidelines of this exchange, not a part of the discussion, but hanging on each word.
“A party? A party.” He shook his head with disgust. “I don’t want your lousy party. I have my life planned. Did you know that? I’ve been focused since graduate school on my plan. I’ve worked endless hours. I did anything you asked of me with no questions. Why?
“Because I was going to be CEO of a Fortune 500 company before I turned forty-five. And I was right on target. I gambled on Vantage and you. I put all my eggs in the Vantage basket. And then you...you decide to delay your retirement for a few years.” He screamed the words now. He sat back, visibly trying to compose himself.
“A few years? Christ, your decision destroyed my whole plan. It was too late to move to another company and get on the fast track. I didn’t have time for that. And besides, you promised me. So, I decided to do what any top executive would do, take control of the situation
. I decided to make sure I would become president of Vantage before my forty-fifth birthday.”
His chuckle wasn’t funny. He finished the beer he was holding and then, glaring defiantly at Claire, he tossed the bottle over the side, as if she would risk her life to remind him of the litter laws.
When his eyes and the gun muzzle turned her way, Claire tried to shrink into a smaller space at the side of the boat.
“It was a good plan actually,” he mused. “No reason it wouldn’t have worked. You would’ve never known what happened. But then little Miss Nosy, here, had to get involved.
“How in the hell did you guess there was a bomb in that laptop? Tell me that!” he snarled at her.
Claire held onto the side of the windshield, drawing in big gulps of air, hoping she wouldn’t pass out. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Neil was involved in the Guiness’ bomb plot. It was his plan?
“Do you know how much your interference cost me?”
Then he shrieked, “You bitch, your interference cost me plenty.”
His eyes glittered, his head nodded as his voice dropped into a low singsong chant, “Oh yeah, you cost me plenty.
“And it wasn’t just the money I paid to that crazy Irish terrorist, although that cost plenty. No. No, what really hurt was the money I lost when the plane didn’t go boom, when the stock price didn’t plummet. That’s what did it. And I had to cover the loss. No matter that it was all hidden behind that dummy corporation; no matter that my whole plan went ka-phooey. I had to use the capital to cover my losses or there would have been an investigation, which might have led to me. I couldn’t risk it, so instead of gobbling up enough stock to control the Board as planned, the money went to cover the margin.” His malevolent gaze sent shivers up Claire’s spine.
David had gone past pale. His skin had a distinct greenish cast. He was breathing heavily, slouched down in his seat. Claire reached out and touched his shoulder wondering if he was having a heart attack.
“Get back. Stand over there where you were.”
Claire Gulliver #02 - Washington Weirdos Page 17