Means To An End

by Carol McPhee

"What's your call, Rand? Should we try to get closer?"

  Rand didn't answer for a minute or two as he concentrated on wiggling into a better position. “If we go closer and Malcolm spots us, it will put Lori's life in jeopardy. Chances are we can't hear what he says anyway."

  George blew out his breath.

  "What's the problem, George?"

  "I thought you were ready to go to her rescue. Maybe it's just as well you plan to drop her; you obviously can't think clearly with her involved."

  "I said it was too dangerous—"

  "That's not the cop talking. Normally you'd know she's in danger, and get her out of it; doing nothing can get her dead. Compromising isn't only give and take, sometimes it means interceding with your best judgment even if the stakes are high.

  "Dammit, George. You're deep. I was more interested in what she's compromising and it clouded my thoughts. Okay, this is what we're going to do."

  * * * *

  The tight clasp of Malcolm's hand stirred dread into Lori's chest. Her determination gave way to uncertainty now, making her pretence at calm harder to maintain. “It's beautiful here, Malcolm, but there are no docking facilities."

  "We don't need them. I hire a yacht to go out to the ship. It brings the cargo ashore and my crew loads the trucks.” His grip on her hand flexed. “Come sit on a rock and we'll enjoy the privacy."

  Her blood turned to ice. She let go of his grasp, placing her hands in her pants’ pockets.

  Unperturbed, Malcolm took her by the elbow and led her to a mound of rounded granite. “There's a full moon tonight; we won't need the headlights to see. I'll go turn them off and be right back."

  Lori swiveled into a position that would put Malcolm on her left side when he returned. She reached into her pocket and flipped on the recorder's switch as he approached. He sat closer than she liked, and she immediately hugged her knees to her chest, digging her fingers into her forearms to hide visible trembling.

  "Are you cold? Here. Put your sweater on.” Before she could stop him, he lifted the cardigan from her shoulders and held it up, waiting for her to squirm into the warmth of the sleeves.

  "Thank you. You're very considerate.” She gritted her teeth, successfully quelling her objection. “Is your need for a boat why Rand is here?"

  "Yes. He was highly recommended, but I don't trust him."

  "Why not?"

  "In my business you learn to rely on your instincts. But let's talk more about you.” Malcolm put his arm around her waist and pulled himself nearer—his right hip grazing the pocket that held the recorder.

  "Your work is far more interesting than talking about me,” Lori replied, trying not to appear timid. She stared at the shoreline and watched the waves end their journey in thundering contact with the land. Malcolm had a thundering effect on her nerves, too. After a nervous pause, she mustered her courage and prodded, “Do you have to hire men to protect your goods on the voyage?"

  He chuckled. “I had no idea you would find the transport of freight so interesting."

  The shimmering moonlight glittered in his steady gaze and shook the little sense of security she had. Lori struggled to remain composed by focusing on his mouth. She prayed he interpreted her interest to mean that his every word aroused excitement.

  "I have four armed men on board guarding my shipment."

  She welcomed the relief his admission brought. “Does the ship's crew work for you?"

  "No. The ship hauls all kinds of cargo, and they don't much care what my crates hold. They just deliver my order to where my men can unload it.” His eyes narrowed as he burrowed in for his pitch. “Rand told me you have a responsible job in the court system."

  "I've been on extended sick leave. The judge's ruling in my accident destroyed any misconception I had that justice would prevail. I'm thinking of giving the job up for something I can respect."

  "Perhaps you should reconsider."

  "What do you mean, Malcolm?"

  "You have to face the fact that the law works only for the rich. I bet that driver's family had clout."

  She knew differently. The guy wasn't the kind that came from a decent home. The court had to provide a legal aid lawyer. Malcolm continued on. “It's easy enough to screw judges around. I've had occasion to do it myself. You could work for me and keep your job as well. It could work for both of us. I can guarantee to make it worth your while.” He looked into her eyes as he talked as if he were fathoming her out. She shivered yet her palms felt slippery with sweat. Malcolm's overture was more than she'd anticipated. “Think about it, Lori. It would be a way for you to get even."

  Lori angled herself a little differently to make certain the tape recorder wasn't muffled and that his voice came through loud and clear as possible on the tape. His hot breath on her neck sickened her. “You can be very persuasive, Malcolm. I think you're right.” She deliberately sighed aloud as if she were yearning to play that game and he'd get the idea she believed him. “I've often wished there were ways I could make them pay."

  "Listen to me. Working for me would be a ticket to revenge."

  Nausea churned her stomach. Had Rand also thought she could be this shallow? She smothered her apprehension and looked the drug leader straight in the eye. “I'm interested. Keep talking."

  "With your access to privileged information, you could make a mint carrying out certain instructions."

  "Instructions for what?” She hated the sparkling gratification she saw fixed in his eyes. Maybe it was just the angle of the moon's light, but the reflection made him look scarier than a werewolf ready to pounce.

  "Nothing's difficult for a gal as smart as you,” he continued. His finger reached over and caressed her cheek. “There are any number of ways you could be helpful. You could reveal or even change some of the data stored, eliminate certain court documents, all kinds of things. Smart as you are, I'm sure you can think of other ways, too. We'd make a great team.” His finger traveled down her neck to the top button of her blouse. His mouth breathed a tiny funnel of heat onto her chin, challenging the stability of her bold front. “Your close working relationship with judges might even influence verdicts to some degree, if you provide incorrect documentation."

  "You have this well thought out, don't you?"

  "Do you object to my suggestions, Lori?” His finger pressed on her blouse button. The hawk readied for the kill.

  Lori glanced around the desolate spot. The shadowed outlines stepped up her fright. Fear had prevented her from disclosing her plan to Rand, but it was fear of disapproval, not fear for her life. She regretted her recklessness.

  "I don't object at all. I just never thought of revenge as being so easy.” Lori rubbed her moist hands together, wishing they had remained icy and numb. The recorder appeared unduly heavy—until she realized Malcolm's hand was in her pocket.

  "Trying to trap me with this, Lori?” He pulled out the recorder. “That wasn't wise on your part. Who are you working for?” He snapped it off.

  "I'm not working for anyone.” She tried to slide off the rock, but the hand free of the machine held her wrist in a vicious grip.

  "You lied when you said you'd returned late. I happened to be looking out the bathroom window when you came from the tunnel. Just now, my hip felt something hard in your pocket. I'm betting Rand is an undercover cop and this whole goddamn thing is a setup. What does he have on me besides what's on the tape?” The hold on her wrist tightened. Jamming the recorder into his jacket, Malcolm pulled out a gun from his other pocket. “Talk!"

  "I don't know what you want me to tell you! I have no more idea who Rand is, than you."

  "You're not as smart as I gave you credit for, Lori. Now you won't live as long either."

  "If you try anything, Rand will hunt you down.” Lori pulled and tugged, but couldn't break free.

  "So you do know he's a cop. RCMP?"

  "Yes. You won't get away."

  "He isn't going to do you any good."

  Lori saw Malcolm scrut
inize the darkness. She just knew he was going to kill her and was looking to see where he could hide her body.

  "Have they got this place under surveillance?"

  "Of course they do.” When he jerked her arm, she winced.

  "You're lying ... They'd be climbing all over me if they did ... But I can't take the risk and kill you here. Did Rand put you up to this?"

  "He has a tracking device underneath your car."

  "I wonder why he hasn't pounced on me yet, if that's true. Were you to send a signal of some kind?” Malcolm peered in her face. His breath smelled rank. “You're still lying, trying to stall. I saw how protective he was with you at dinner; I don't think he'd let you go anywhere with me. My bet is he doesn't know you're here!"

  "Let me go!"

  A drift of loose stones rattled to the base of the bank. Lori seized on Malcolm's distraction, lunged from his hold, and fled.

  "Hold it, damn you.” With his gun pointed in the direction of the rockslide, the drug lord reached for her arm, but caught only a gust of cool wind blowing in from offshore.

  "Hold it right there, yourself.” The authoritative command from the shadows resounded over the waves. The official tone was the most pleasing police voice Lori had ever heard. She stopped in her run-away tracks, just out of Malcolm's reach. When she saw Rand was alone, her joy faded.

  "You aren't very smart, Rand. One false move and I'll shoot her. At this range, I can't miss."

  "Then consider what you have to lose, Warner. We know all about your activities and most of your associates have been jailed. Right now the charges will be less serious than if you add one for murder."

  "That won't wash. I've got connections out of the country and I can get there before anyone knows you two are dead. I don't like being suckered. Where's your gun, Rand? You wouldn't be stupid enough to face me unarmed. You lost it in your slide down here, didn't you?"

  Lori expected Rand to say his gun was aimed on Malcolm, but he stayed silent. Too silent.

  Malcolm grabbed Lori's arm and pushed her toward Rand. “Get over there next to your boyfriend."

  Lori had no choice, stumbling, then falling onto the rocks as she almost reached Rand's side.

  "Don't move,” Malcolm growled to Rand. “She can get up herself."

  A glint of metal drew Lori's attention. Rand's gun lay about twenty feet away. With Malcolm's glare directed toward her, it might just as well be a mile. She heaved a disgusted sigh and groaned from the scrapes on her knees, but managed to stand and hold onto Rand's arm for support.

  "We're taking a little ride, people. Both of you—get to my car."

  From out of the night a deep voice boomed loud and forceful. “No one's gonna be driving anywhere, Warner."

  Malcolm swerved, leveling his gun in the direction of George's voice. Rand grabbed Lori, and they hit the beach in a roll. Before Malcolm had a chance to pull the trigger, a shot split the air. The drug lord sank to his knees, doubled over, and moaned. He twisted around slightly, raised his arm, and pointed the gun at Lori. Rand threw himself on top of her.

  One more blast cracked the night.

  Malcolm crumpled face first onto a pile of rocks and wet seaweed.

  Rand jumped up and hurried over to him. He felt Malcolm's neck for a pulse. “He's dead."

  Lori stayed down on the wet sand, her eyes searching the darkness until she spied a sudden movement. A black form materialized—George.

  "That was close, Rand. Sorry it took so long to get behind him."

  "I thought you'd stopped for a picnic,” Rand stated flatly.

  "Hey! Give a guy a break! It was hard to get in a position where I wouldn't hit either of you if I missed. I'm just sorry he doesn't have to suffer jail time. I'm even sorrier we couldn't get more information about the freighter."

  "I got a little.” Both men turned toward Lori. “I taped his conversation, and he talked about the men on the ship. I think he said there were four of his men on board and the crew doesn't work for him. The tape recorder's in the pocket of his pants."

  The two men glanced at each other. After Rand helped her to her feet, Lori stared at the lifeless form. “Malcolm got what he deserved and others are protected from him. Protection is what justice is about. I guess I lost sight of that for a while. I was looking for justice in revenge."

  She wanted Rand to move close to her, have him cradle her with the security of his body, but he stayed a few feet away. Police protocol took priority over her need for comfort. That's how it should be, she thought. His job is his life.

  "We'd better call in, George,” Rand said. “There'll be a lot of paperwork on this one."

  "And an internal investigation, and publicity, and..."

  "Don't sweat it, you did what needed to be done to save our lives. Thanks, partner."

  It wasn't long before sirens wailed down the highway, coming toward the cove. Once more police arrived, Lori witnessed the operation of an efficient machine. Her last sight of Rand was of him standing in the headlights of four vehicles aimed on the crime scene. His expression grim, he looked up, studied her face, then looked away. Another officer whisked her to one of the police units.

  She again felt the pangs of being abandoned to the wolves—the exact suffering she'd shouldered when her fiancé had walked out the hospital door. When she climbed into the squad car, her gaze anchored on Rand as they pulled away until he was no longer in sight. She brushed aside the tear trickling from the corner of her eye.

  Lori had much to think about on the journey to the small RCMP post where she'd be questioned. She thought primarily about the one who had taken such risk for her sake. He'd protected her with his life. Life was fragile. Regrets couldn't change what had happened, and she wouldn't waste more time moping about it as she had in the past. Misery would no longer ruin her enjoyment of possibilities.

  It was 1:00 a.m. before the police dropped her back at her chalet. The interrogation had been intense because of Malcolm's death, and yet the pointed questions hadn't bothered her. What bothered her was not knowing how Malcolm's death affected George and Rand. Was it something they could easily push off as a deserved end to crime?

  Her search for closure was over. The only thing to be gained by remaining at Lochaber Haven would be more anguish over what she had lost—a relationship that had prospects of being special. She would leave at daybreak. With her strategy planned, she dragged out her suitcases and packed. Too wired to sleep, she opted for fresh air instead and wandered down along the rapids.

  The haze beneath the scattered lampposts lent an eerie glow to the deserted grounds of the lodge. She slowly limped along the pathway toward the main building. Her leg ached with its usual pain and her knee scrapes smarted, but in its own way the soreness lent stability to her life. It was real. All that had gone on before seemed like a nightmare from which she'd finally awakened. Except for her memory of Rand. Lori shrugged her shoulders and moved on.

  As she walked, the moist blanket of air closed around her, but she didn't care. There was peace in being hidden from others. A chill swept across her neck as she hobbled to the dock, yet even it couldn't dissuade her from seeing the yacht—one last time. She gazed across the channel at the Destiny. The gleaming white yacht punctured the mist surrounding it, recalling its arrival to her mind.

  There were many memories—not all bad ones—tied here at Lochaber. She knew they would affect her forever with no chance of release. Oblivious of the car entering the lodge's yard, she glanced at the yacht one final time and headed back toward her chalet.

  Lori mused over the way Rand coped with the sequence of events after Malcolm's death. The memory illustrated that he was in his element in the midst of sealing up an investigation. He'd become the efficient Sergeant McCormick. She smiled as she recollected his muffled voice on the phone and the hesitant manner in which he'd convinced her to join his investigation. She stopped, inhaled a deep breath, and continued walking at a more leisurely pace.

  She had just left the
tunnel when she saw a shadowy form beside her. She froze. Was it one of Malcolm's men from the neighboring chalet? The roar of the river rapids would hide a scream. She turned and hurried back toward the lodge, moving as fast as her handicap allowed. On the verge of panic, her heart pounded against her ribs, squeezing the air from her lungs. She had to stop to catch her breath. Two arms encircled her from behind, pulling her tight against a wall of hard muscle. Her arms flailed, wildly trying to connect with something solid.

  "Lori! Stop! It's me."

  "W-What?"

  "Dammit. Why do you always fight me?"

  "Duh! Why didn't you just say, ‘Hey, Lori, it's me,’ before I got scared out of my wits?” Her terror withered. “I-I thought you were one of Malcolm's men."

  "They're all locked up, and tomorrow those on the freighter will be, too. George dropped me off. I came to see if you're okay after what you've been through."

  "I'm holding my own."

  "Can we go inside? It's cold out here.” His hands on her shoulders aimed her in the direction of her chalet. The deep scowl he saw under the lamp standard caused him to drop his hands to his sides.

  "I wasn't expecting you, Rand.” Lori knew she couldn't deal with any tongue-lashing now, especially in such close quarters.

  "That makes a difference?"

  "I'd rather call it a night.” She pulled her key from her slacks’ pocket. Her trembling hand prevented her from fitting it in the lock.

  Rand took it gently from her fingers and unlocked the door. “I'll just stay a minute."

  Reluctantly, she entered, turned on the light and stood aside. The first things she noticed were the greenish-yellow smudges on his pants, left from colliding with the seaweed. She looked down and saw her slacks were no better—torn at the knees, covered in sand. Then she noticed him glaring at the luggage on the sofa.

  "You're leaving, Lori?” She couldn't miss the hard edge to his tone.

  "Yes. They said I could go home. You ordered me to, if you remember. There's no reason to stay."

  "Just like that? You weren't going to say goodbye?"

  "Why should I? The adventure is over, fini, done.” She went to the sink, checked her face, and saw how awful she looked. Her hair hung every which way in a stringy tangle. Damp air always gave her a Raggedy Ann appearance, but threaded with seaweed she looked like a witch. The scary effect went well with her red bleary eyes. “Since you're here, I'd like to say thanks for saving my life.” Tears brimmed to the surface, but didn't fall. “Even though I got enough on tape to help convict Malcolm in court, my stupidity almost got you killed. It wasn't worth the risk."