Kent twirled a finger in a circular motion. “Well, let’s go. Nothing’s changed. You just got another passenger.”
Walt backed the Melancholy out of the slip and guided it out past the breakwater before kicking it up to 24 knots. Bowden watched Kent the whole time. Kent stood in the back smiling happily.
“The problem with cops containing a scene is that they don’t let anybody in. Even the suspect. I had to wait outside. Then I saw you two leaving. I didn’t know where you were going, but I couldn’t go back to the hotel, so I followed. Then I started thinking that maybe you had figured out that Grandpa’s boat was still docked here even though he sold it. So I was waiting for you up above. Then this guy here,” he motioned to Walt with his gun, “casts off. I had to climb the security fence up there and almost didn’t make it. So, where are we going?”
“North,” Bowden answered.
“Hey, do you have my gun?”
Bowden stared at him as he thought about a way to give up Kent’s gun and keep his own. “Yeah. I got it. Butt first, two fingers I presume?”
Kent grinned and nodded. “Sure. Why not.” Kent leveled his gun on Bowden’s chest, his finger on the trigger. That made Chase nervous.
He hoped a wave or sudden swell wouldn’t unbalance the man and cause him to accidentally squeeze off a round. Bowden pulled Kent’s gun from his waistband, and held it out with two fingers. Kent stepped forward and took the gun with his left hand.
He took a step back and stuffed the gun into his waistband, sighed and shook his head. “I’m feeling better already. Now, let’s do it again with your gun.”
“The cops took my gun,” Bowden answered. “I’d have shot you last night in the house if I’d have had it.”
Kent laughed. “It must suck to be old. How’re you feeling?”
“Sore,” Bowden conceded.
“Well, let’s just assume that you still have your gun. It’s safer for me that way, so just take it out with two fingers and hold it out to your side.”
Bowden started to turn on the bench, so that he could get a better view of Kent. If he was going to make a move, he would need a better angle.
“Don’t turn around,” Kent warned him. “I’d rather look at your back than your ugly face.”
Bowden stopped turning. “You’re assuming way too much.”
“Put your hands on the top of your head and step into the aisle. Remember, I don’t want to see your face.”
Bowden clasped his hands behind his head and stepped into the aisle, looking out the front of the boat.
Walt glanced over at him. “I thought you said there was nothing illegal going on.”
“I can only speak for myself.”
“Shut up,” Kent barked as he ran his left hand up Bowden’s side. “Where is it?”
Bowden realized that Kent was searching for his shoulder holster and decided to try one more time. “The cops took it.”
Bowden felt Kent’s hand drop to the waistband and search the side and back and then travel up under his right arm. He held his breath and prayed that the gun would be overlooked by an inexperienced searcher.
Kent stepped back. “Okay. Turn around.”
Bowden turned to face him, dropping his hands in the process and putting them on his hips.
Kent nodded. “Take your coat off.”
“What?”
“Take your coat off.”
Bowden unzipped his jacket. His right hand was only an inch from the butt of his gun. He stared into Kent’s eyes, trying to get a read on the killer’s preparedness. The bright excitement that showed in them caused Bowden to be cautious. He opened his coat, which revealed the Glock.
Kent smiled, showing his teeth. “Ah, that’s what I thought. Put your hands on top of your head again and turn around.”
Bowden did as he was told and Kent reached around him and took the Glock. Lights exploded in Bowden’s head followed by instant blackness. He woke up lying on the floor where he had fallen. He remained motionless and listened to the hum of the engine and the conversation that went on above him.
“I said, leave him be!” Kent roared.
Tara shouted back. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“He was jerking me around. I had to show him who was boss. You better remember it, too.”
“Just let me see if he’s all right.”
“I didn’t hit him that hard.”
“But you hit him with your gun.”
“He’s fine. Sit down.”
Bowden felt a wave move the boat sideways. He felt the bow rise and fall. He felt like he was floating. He opened his eyes as he felt his stomach turn over. The pounding in his head increased as he pushed himself into a seated position and looked back at Kent.
“You don’t look too good,” Kent pointed out.
“I’m going to be sick.”
Kent stepped out of the way and Bowden staggered to the back of the boat, feeling better as soon as he got out of the cabin and into the open air. He fixed his eyes on the land and the seasickness faded from him. He probed the back of his head with his fingers and felt the lump. He owed Kent another one.
Bowden stood in the open air long after the nausea passed, wanting to let the cold wind chill him and numb the feeling of failure. He stuffed his hands inside his coat and wondered if he would have a chance to use them on Kent. An opportunity could arise, so he prepared himself to fight. This would be the last day of his life, if he didn’t find a way to overpower Kent. He had to catch him off guard, and he had to hit him much harder than last time.
His mind played back the fight in the house, blow by blow. He shook his head as he realized that he had pounded on Kent with little effect. He wouldn’t be able to defeat Kent with his hands.
There must be something around this boat he could use as a weapon. A gaff hung on two hooks, tucked out of the way. He might be able to use it. It was on the starboard side of the boat and about two feet off the deck.
Kent opened the door and called to him. “Get back in here.”
Bowden stepped into the cabin, and sat on the bench.
“Walt says that we’re just about there,” Kent explained. “I want to know what we’re looking for.”
“I’m not sure,” Bowden answered.
“Don’t give me that crap.”
“Really. I expect to see that cliff that Flavio painted but I don’t know what else there might be.”
Kent looked out the window and then back at the chart. “So this map takes us to where that cliff is?”
“I believe so.”
“And we’ll find it buried there?”
“That’s the theory.”
Kent smiled. “Hey, Walt.”
The old man glanced over at him.
“I’m going to be rich!” Kent laughed with his mouth open and the sound almost drowned out the noise of the engines.
19
Riley watched the wind blow branches out of the pine trees and heard them thump against the roof of the house. No lights were on. The sky turned gray as clouds from the Pacific Ocean piled up. He turned away from the window and looked at the black spot on the carpet. He knew it was blood, but there was not a tint of red to it.
He paced in the small room, wondering why no one had come home. Bowden had said that they would get Michelle and then go get the treasure, but things didn’t feel right. Maybe they didn’t find her alive or she was hurt, he thought. Riley grabbed the rim of his fedora in two fingers and spun it in his hands as he considered what could have gone wrong. After several minutes he wondered why he didn’t think things were going well. Each scenario that developed in his mind was one of doom.
He crushed the fedora back into place and decided that he would try to take a look. He braced himself and took a deep breath, then looked for the hotel. His gaze plowed through the walls in a blur. Trees, the ground, pavement, then more walls flashed through him as his sight took him miles from where he was. He searched for the hotel as the ground slid benea
th him. He worried that his sight had taken him too far, and wished that he could get a better view from higher up, then noticed that his vision rose from the ground and now soared over the land.
This gave Riley a better view of the area. He decided he liked to pass through the air better than passing through the obstacles along the ground. He located the hotel with the police cars outside and his gaze crashed through the ceiling to the rooms inside. He located the lobby and the police tape and then room 153. The door was open and Riley looked in. He could see officers talking and moving around, but he couldn’t find Bowden or Tara.
He pulled his gaze back and searched the parking lot for the rental car but didn’t see it. The ocean then, he thought, and the ground lashed below him. He searched the waters, glancing inside boats as he worked his way north. The whole search took only a minute, and he found the Melancholy riding easily on the waves as it approached the cliff face of a very small and uninhabited island. Riley instantly recognized the area from the picture and turned his sight into the boat. He saw Tara sitting across from Bowden. A man with gray hair and beard steered the boat. Kent Fonck stood behind them all with a gun.
Riley wished he was there, and then suddenly he was. He stood where his sight had taken him; just inside the back door. What had just happened? He glanced down at himself and saw that he was only a vague form. No one inside had seen him because there wasn’t much to see yet. It was still too light out, but the darkening clouds were quickly blocking out the evening sun.
He floated up the ladder to the sundeck and peeked into the cabin below.
“Take the boat over there,” Kent directed. “I think I can see a hole in the rock. I think it’s even in the same location as that black spot in the painting.”
Walt glanced over at Bowden, who shrugged. “He’s the one with the gun.”
Walt steered the boat closer to the cliff face and the dark circle became more visible. It was a small hole about three feet round and the cliff towered another eighty feet above it. On top of the cliff monstrous pine trees grew right up to the edge. Some of the roots of the trees were exposed to the air.
A large rock with a flat top protruded from the water. Waves smashed against it and covered the top with foaming water.
“Get close to that rock.”
Walt shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. The weather is turning and the waves are too rough.”
Kent stepped forward and placed the barrel of the gun against Walt’s head. “Get up next to that rock.”
“At least put some bumpers out,” Walt complained.
Kent spun towards Bowden. “Tie some bumpers off and put them out.”
Riley crawled away from the back of the boat so that he was almost directly over Walt. He didn’t want to be seen yet. He had to pick his moment. He had to appear at a time that would allow Bowden the best chance to overpower Kent.
Bowden tossed the bumpers over and stayed outside as Walt brought the boat in close to the rock. He glanced at the gaff on the other side of the boat and cursed his luck. Kent pushed Tara outside and motioned with his arm for Walt to get closer.
“You’re going first,” Kent shouted to Bowden. “Then we’ll help Tara off. Then I want you two to back up against the cliff. I’ll join you.”
Bowden put his left foot on the side of the boat and watched as the waves covered the flat rock. He felt the rise and fall of the boat and tried to get a feel for the pattern. He wanted to jump as the boat was still rising, but before it peaked on a wave. There was about three feet of water between the boat and the rock that he had to cross. As the boat came down, the gap widened to five feet. It came up again and he jumped.
For a moment, there was only water beneath him and then spray engulfed him, shooting up over his head. The salt water stung his eyes and he was momentarily blinded. He couldn’t see the rock as he landed. His right leg gave way and his left foot shot out from under him. He felt as though he was momentarily suspended in the air, then his shoulder blades collided with the rock. His head snapped back and lights danced in his head. He rolled over as spray from the next wave covered him in a sheet of icy water.
Kent stared at him for a several seconds. “Are you okay?”
He struggled to his knees.
“Stay here,” Kent told Tara. “We might need you to help us get back on board.”
Kent put a foot on the side of the boat and leapt for the rock. He lost his footing as he landed and fell over backwards. He broke his fall with his left hand, but retained his hold on the gun. He stood up and tucked his left hand under his right arm and squeezed it against his side.
“Get up there,” he screamed at Bowden, pointing at the small cave.
Bowden climbed the wet rocks. It was an easy climb, but miserable conditions. Large drops of rain fell from the sky, and the wind increased another 10 mph. He glanced back and saw Kent climbing up behind him. He stopped to see if Kent would close the distance. If he got close enough, he could kick him in the head and knock the killer into the sea.
Kent glanced up. “Keep going.”
He moved on reluctantly, until he knelt in front of the hole. The hole rose gradually into the cliff and was about twelve feet deep. Something square sat in the very back. He glanced at the sides and realized that the cave was actually more like a tunnel. It was man-made.
Kent pushed him out of the way and looked up into the hole. “Crawl up in there and drag that back.” He held up the gun.
Bowden crawled into the hole. The first two or three feet were wet from sea spray, then the incline and the tunnel itself protected the rest of the cave from the water.
His body blocked out the light and he crawled forward in the darkness. He wondered if Pierre or Flavio had made traps for anyone stupid enough to attempt to explore their little hole. He doubted it and prayed that he was right.
He reached out and touched the square object and felt around it. The side he had seen was twelve inches square, but the box was at least twice that long. It was made out of metal and he found a handle on the small end that faced him. He grabbed the handle and tugged. The heavy box slid forward an inch.
“What are you doing up there?” Kent shouted. His voice sounded loud in the cave.
“Hold on,” he yelled back.
“What?”
“Hold on.”
“What?”
He heard the wind howling outside and figured that it drowned out his voice. He didn’t answer. He crawled up closer to the box and knelt over it. Two clasps held the lid shut. There wasn’t a locking mechanism, so he flipped the clasps and opened the lid. A black, heavy-knit, wool blanket closed off the contents. Another identical blanket appeared to line the inside of the box. He grabbed the edge of the blanket being used as a cover, and peeled it back.
Small pebbles? The light wasn’t good. He shifted the box and moved his body further around, so that the light coming in from the front of the cave could reach the contents. He saw a sparkle and reached in his hand. The small pebbles felt like glass, smooth and cold as his fingers slid into them. He felt his heart jump. He scooped some up in his hand and raised them above the edge.
Diamonds!
He let them cascade from his fingers back into the box.
“Come on,” Kent yelled. “The weather’s getting bad.”
He shut the lid and wedged himself behind the box, braced his back against the wall, put his feet on one end of the box, and shoved. It moved easily. He slid up behind the box and shoved it with his feet again. This end of the box also had a handle.
He reached the opening, and Kent grabbed a handle and tugged. He grunted and Bowden smiled. He knew it would be difficult to get the heavy box off the cliff face and into the boat. Maybe Kent would want to wait.
Kent tugged the box out far enough that Bowden could get out of the cave and stand up. He lifted one end and Kent pointed the gun at him and shook his head.
“You’re going to trade me places. I’ll be on the uphill side.”
Bowden stepped carefully around the box. Only eight inches of rock showed between the edge of the box and the crashing waves below.
Kent put his back against the cliff and grabbed Bowden’s jacket as he stood in front of him, then pushed Bowden away, smiling as he did so.
His right foot slid off the edge. Kent forced him over backwards and now kept him from falling into the sea only by holding his jacket.
He swallowed and looked the killer straight in the eyes. “You’ll never get that loaded without my help.”
“I know that! I just want to remind you that I can kill you any time.”
Kent tugged on Bowden’s coat, so he could get his right foot on the ledge. He scrambled up against the cliff. Kent quickly stepped around the box.
“Pick it up,” he ordered.
Bowden grabbed the handle and lifted his end off the ground. He waited for Kent to grab the other handle, and then he pulled. The back end of the box slid along the rocks since Kent didn’t pick it up. All he did was provide stability.
Bowden looked at the flat rock below him. It was covered with an inch of water that poured over the edges. The crashing waves shot water twelve feet into the air. A dangerous place to be with a killer next to you.
He carried his end of the heavy chest out onto the rock, and suddenly felt the back end rise. Kent had picked his end up. They carried it between them, and stopped at the edge of the rock.
Kent beckoned to Walt with his gun hand, and Walt brought the boat back to the rock. He stopped about six feet away, and Kent screamed at him.
“Get it closer.”
The next wave picked up the boat and dropped it at their feet. Water crashed against Bowden’s legs and chest, driving him backwards.
He got a foot behind him and steadied himself, just as he heard Kent yell, Now!”
He felt the movement on the other end of the box as Kent shoved it up to the side of the boat. He lifted his end as it dropped slightly.
The boat moved out with the water and he reached out, attempting to get his end over the side. The box rocked on the side of the boat and then fell onto the deck. He was still pushing when the box dropped. As the weight of the box disappeared, and the boat moved away, his own weight was too far forward. He tried to stop his momentum and teetered on the edge.
The Ultimate Mystery Thriller Horror Box Set (7 Mystery Thriller Horror Bestsellers) Page 72