Whistler's Angel

by John R. Maxim

  But its passengers weren’t women. Two men emerged from it. From their dress, they were businessmen or lawyers. The first of them was young, very large, short blond hair. He carried a briefcase in one hand. The second was older, perhaps forty, and bald. The second one stood with his back to her. They waited at the door as a third man appeared. This third man handed a crutch to the bald one. The third man was small, rather homely, enfeebled. He needed their assistance to manage the steps as he climbed from the executive jet. Once down, he moved stiffly, bow-legged, with a limp.

  The three seemed to be waiting. They made no move toward the lounge. Their pilot and co-pilot joined them for a moment. They had a brief discussion. The two pilots reboarded. Kate’s eyes returned to her puzzle.

  She’d been watching their arrival, although not with much interest, but something about them was troubling her. She looked up again and as she did, the bald-headed man raised an arm and he waved it, gesturing toward someone outside. A moment later, a car pulled up. It was black, a big sedan, a Lincoln Town Car. The driver got out; he carried a clipboard; he handed it to the bald man who scribbled something on it. A rental car, she realized. Delivered to planeside. The small one must be someone important. The bald one turned and, for the first time, Kate was able to see his face clearly.

  His skin. It shone. It was almost like parchment. She realized with a shock that she’d seen that man before. She’d seen him when his face appeared normal, if unpleasant, and she’d seen him when he had very little face left. She’d held his hand. She’d comforted him. She’d told him that she forgave him.

  His name…what was it? Yes, Briggs. It was Briggs.

  During that moment of recognition, the three men got into the car. The younger one with the briefcase climbed behind the wheel. And Briggs – if that was Briggs – held the rear door open and helped the one with the limp climb in. He then stepped around, got in the front; they drove off. The man who had delivered their car to them was approaching the departure lounge door.

  Kate stood as he entered. She raised a hand. She said “Excuse me. That man who just signed…”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Those men who just flew in. I think I know one of them. Might his name, by any chance, be Briggs?”

  The man looked at his clipboard. He shook his head. “He initialed the receipt, but it’s just a scrawled line. Could be Briggs, but it could be almost anything.”

  “But…wouldn’t you know who rented the car?”

  “Well, I know they’re government, but that’s about all. The order comes in on a twelve-digit code. We don’t even have to bill. It just gets paid.”

  “I don’t suppose you know where they’re staying.”

  “No, ma’am, I surely don’t. He’s a friend, did you say?”

  “I…knew him before he got hurt.”

  “Looks like a burn. Your friend been in a fire?”

  “No, it wasn’t a burn. He was…cut. Flying glass.”

  “Well, the one with the limp who got in the back seat…he called the driver Robert; that’s the only name I heard. I’d say you could wait and ask the pilot if you like, but I don’t think he’ll be coming through the terminal.”

  She looked out toward the plane. It was taxiing away. It appeared to be headed across the runway to the other side of the airport. The man said, “Over there’s where the private jets park. It’s where I’ll pick up the car later on.”

  “Later on. You mean today?”

  “Or tomorrow, the next day. They never tell us how long.”

  “Well, thank you,” she said. “I’m…probably mistaken.”

  “Wish I could have been more helpful. Goodbye, now.”

  She began to pace. She didn’t know what to do. In the first place, she couldn’t be a hundred percent sure that the man was actually Briggs. If it were, she’d have expected to see the other one with him. What was his name? Oh, yes. Lockwood. And that younger man was definitely not Lockwood.

  But that did look like Briggs, so let’s assume that it was. Let’s assume that Briggs didn’t have the good sense to look for another line of work. That would mean that he’s still working for that man, Felix Aubrey, the one who Adam said looked like a toad. She had never seen Aubrey. Not even a photo. But the little man with them, the last one off the plane, did fit into the frog family somewhere.

  But there was also that limp and his bow-legged walk. You would think that if anyone described Felix Aubrey, there would be some mention of his physical impairment. On the other hand, frogs are bow-legged.

  All right, hold it, she thought. Do you see what you’re doing? You’re letting your imagination run wild. Except you knew, you just knew that Aubrey might be involved from the moment you heard that Philip Ragland had been shot. Philip Ragland had railed against people like Aubrey. Aubrey and that other one, Poole. And if those two were involved, then Harry was right. Adam was definitely involved in that shooting. That was Adam at the bar in that film clip she saw. And the woman sitting with him was Claudia.

  It was all she could do not hail a cab and go looking for Adam and Claudia herself. But where to start? She did not know the island. All she knew was that the boat was berthed in a place called Palmetto Bay…which apparently was the one place where they weren’t. As hard as it was, she would have to sit and wait for Harry’s friends to arrive.

  As if in answer to a prayer, she thought she heard another airplane. It sounded like a low whistle as it passed overhead. The sound became more distant; it seemed to be leaving. The whistling sound changed its pitch, became deeper. She realized that the airplane was turning to land.

  She saw it at last. A smaller jet than the first. Also privately owned, from the look of it. But this one did not taxi up to the terminal. It turned off to the right where the private planes were parked. She rushed to the window to see as best she could. It had stopped, its door had opened; there were people disembarking. And again, there were men. She saw two of them get off. They seemed unremarkable, casually dressed. Within seconds they had disappeared from view.

  The plane, however, was moving again. It approached the single runway, she assumed to take off, but it kept on coming; it was crossing toward her. She held her breath as the aircraft approached and, once again, it came to a stop. The door opened and a small set of stairs folded out. It was them. Now she saw them. Two women.

  Her first reaction on seeing them in the flesh was something that approached disappointment. She’d expected two women, but these were…just women. She’d expected, she supposed, a pair of amazon types. Hard as nails, no nonsense, chewing gum. But the taller one had a look that, even from a distance, made her seem very friendly and approachable. She was nicely dressed in a skirt and a blazer. Dark hair, long and flowing in the afternoon breeze, framed one of those faces that easily smiled. Sad eyes, though. Not unhappy. Just the way they were shaped. So this has to be Molly Farrell, she thought. She’s the one Harry said she’d be comfortable with. Kate began to understand why.

  The smaller one looked even less the part of what one would expect in a bodyguard. She was a redhead, very tiny, not much over five feet. She wore her hair short, in an elfin cut. She was dressed much more casually; she wore bluejeans and sneakers and a tight-fitting turtleneck sweater. Kate guessed that she was a size two, if that. From a distance, she might pass as a fourteen-year-old girl although she was probably somewhere in her forties. Her face, while not unpretty, showed almost no expression. She was constantly moistening her lips. This one would be the “unusual” one. This one would have to be Carla.

  They both saw that she was watching. Molly nodded an acknowledgment. They waited until the pilot, an older man, deplaned and opened the luggage compartment. He drew out a soft duffle for each of the women and placed them on the tarmac at their feet. He said something to Molly. They both checked their watches. The pilot raised a finger and he shook it Carla. His expression seemed pleasant; it was not a threatening gesture; it done in the manner of a kindly parent reminding
a child to behave. That pilot, thought Kate, must be more than just a pilot. It was clear that he knew them both well.

  As the pilot turned and reentered the aircraft, the rental car man, the same one, pulled up, delivering a small gray Mercedes sedan. As before, he had a clipboard. Molly took it, scrawled something, then she motioned to Kate, inviting her to come out and join them.

  As Kate pushed through the door; the man saw her and smiled. He said, “Hi. Any luck with your friend?”

  She said no.

  “I just passed them again. Couple miles down the road. They’d pulled over to look at a map.”

  “Which direction?”

  “Down island.” He made a vague gesture with his thumb. “They were headed south along the main parkway, but there must be a dozen hotels down that way. Have you thought about calling the hotels?”

  “That’s a good idea. Thanks. I might do that.”

  Molly waited for the rental car man to leave before introducing herself. She offered Kate her hand and she introduced Carla. Carla kept her hands at her sides, but her expression seemed to soften a bit. She said, “I’m looking forward to meeting your daughter. Is it true that she…”

  “Carla…please,” said Molly. “That will keep.”

  Molly said this to Carla, rather gently, thought Kate. Kate said to Molly, “Um…this car that you’ve rented…”

  “What, why a Mercedes? We’re told that they’re commonplace on this island. Especially in this color.”

  She was saying, Kate realized, that it wouldn’t stand out. That’s the sort of thing professionals consider, she supposed, but that wasn’t what she wanted to ask. “Actually, I meant the way you signed for the car. Does that mean that you work for the government, too?”

  Molly shook her head. She also saw through the question. She asked, “What friend was he talking about? Who else could you know on this island?”

  Kate told her about the other plane that came in. She told her about the man who she thought was one of those who had raided her greenhouse. She’d thought it was the bald one whose face had been cut, but now she wasn’t so sure. He’d arrived in that plane with two other men, one of whom might have been Felix Aubrey.

  Carla’s eyes lit up. Molly’s didn’t. She seemed doubtful. She asked, “Have you ever seen Aubrey before?”

  “No, I’ve only heard him described.”

  “Felix Aubrey does not get around very well. He had…suffered an injury to his legs.”

  “This man limped.”

  Still that doubt. “A small man? In his forties? Odd-looking?”

  “With two younger men, both much bigger than he is. One, if I’m right, is the man named Briggs. I didn’t know the third one, but his first name is Robert. The man who brought their car heard him called by that name.”

  “So they picked up their car from the man who brought ours?”

  “He delivered a black Lincoln Town Car.”

  “Did you get the plate number?”

  “I didn’t think to. I’m sorry.”

  “And the plane that brought them. Still here, or has it left?”

  Kate pointed to it across the field. “That’s it.”

  “The Hawker?”

  Kate answered, “I don’t know them by make. It’s the one to the right of that Texaco fuel truck.” She asked, “By the way, those men who got off your plane…were they just commuters or did Harry send them, too?”

  Molly answered, vaguely, “Don’t worry about them.” She chewed on her lip. She turned to Carla.

  Kate watched as the two of them looked at each other. No words were spoken. Molly narrowed her eyes and Carla answered with a shrug. The narrowing of the eyes seemed to ask, “Could it be?” The shrug seemed to say, “I don’t know. Let’s find out.” Carla reached to pick up one of the duffles. She walked back toward the plane that had brought her.

  “Carla? Just check. Do you hear what I’m saying? Don’t do anything more than ask around.”

  Carla wet her lips. She said, “I’ll find my own ride.”

  “Carla? You heard me.”

  “I heard you. Where will you be? You’re still going to see Olivia first?”

  “Yes, we are.”

  Carla said, “I’ll catch up to you later.”

  Kate watched as Carla reboarded her plane. It started to taxi at once. It was headed, she assumed, to the far side of the airstrip where the other place in question had parked. Kate turned to Molly and asked, “Who’s Olivia? And why aren’t we going to the boat?”

  “We’re not going to the boat until we know who’s where. Adam and your daughter still don’t seem to be on it. Olivia’s a friend who I’ve been trying to reach. She is also the wife of Philip Ragland.”

  Kate blinked in surprise. “Wait a minute. You know them?”

  “Not the husband,” Molly answered, “but we all knew Olivia. Adam has met her, if that’s your next question, but that was a long time ago.”

  “So…he was in that bar and it wasn’t by chance. What the hell did he get my daughter into?”

  “Mrs. Geller, we don’t know yet. Olivia will.”

  “So that was Felix Aubrey who flew in with his thugs. They’re here after Ragland? To finish the job? Or are they after Adam this time?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “You can’t guess? It’s one or both. Why else would he have come?”

  “Mrs. Geller…either one would be abysmally stupid. Whatever else Felix

  Aubrey may be, there is nothing stupid about him.”

  “You’re sure? I’m not. And what if you’re wrong?”

  “If he’s here for either reason, he will die here.”

  THIRTY TWO

  Kaplan, so angry that his eyes were wet with tears, could barely keep his mind on his driving. First Lockwood and the wacko go down to that boat which Lockwood had no business going near. The next thing you know, the barmaid shows up and walks into a fistfight with the wacko.

  Not just a tussle. An actual fistfight. Crow sees her coming, says she caught him by surprise. She sees the look on his face and backs away. He thinks, “She must know me,” and he goes to grab her, calling her a slut and all other kinds of shit, including a spawn of the devil. He grabs her by her blouse and he rips off her sleeve. Next he grabs her by the hair and starts smacking her face. She responds with a hard right cross of her own that knocks him square on his ass. He gets up with blood pouring out of his mouth from a punch that made him bite through his tongue. He tries to square off, swinging both arms like windmills, but he’s wearing these golf shoes with spikes on the bottom. The guy might as well be on skates.

  The barmaid sees this and goes for his knees. She takes him down with a leg sweep. She pounces on his back and has Crow in a chokehold before Lockwood can get to the top of the ramp. She doesn’t see it’s Lockwood, but she must have heard him coming. She must have thought maybe it was Whistler. Whatever she thought, she never looked up and Lockwood cold-cocked her with his gun butt.

  Kaplan, by this time, didn’t have any choice. He had to zoom down, pick up Lockwood and Crow, and get them out of there fast. There were people who saw it, but they ducked behind buildings when they saw that Lockwood had a gun in his hand. Kaplan got there, yelled “Get in,” but Lockwood said, “We can’t leave her.” He picked her up, threw her in the back seat and shoved the wacko in there on top of her. Lockwood jumped into the front and they burned rubber backing out.

  Kaplan raced out to Palmetto Bay Road where they almost hit a kid who was crossing on a bike. This happened because Kaplan was turning left while Crow was yelling, “No, we’re going right.” Kaplan tried to ignore him, but Crow swatted at his shoulder. Crow screamed into his ear, “Why are we going this way? This isn’t the way to the hospital.”

  Kaplan wasn’t sure that he heard Crow correctly because the guy’s bleeding tongue was all over his mouth and he sprayed half the car when he yelled. Kaplan said, “You think what? We’re still going to the hospital? Is that what yo
u seriously think?”

  “Those were your instructions. You’ll obey them.”

  What he actually said was, “Doze weh yo izuctions.” “You’ll obey them” came out as ‘Yobayem.”

  “Joshua…shit-brain…look down on the floor there. Have you noticed that anything’s different?”

  His answer, in real words, was, “I’ll see that she’s quiet. I’ll keep her in the car while you scout.”

  “You’ll see that she’s quiet? Like you did back at the dock? If she wakes up, she’ll kick your ass again, pal. We’re going back to the house.”

  Crow started to rant. Kaplan couldn’t understand him. But at least he was mostly spraying Lockwood this time. Lockwood was just sitting there, stone-faced.

  Kaplan nudged Lockwood. “Will you shut this guy up?”

  All Lockwood could say was, “This is bad.”

  “Yeah, well,” said Kaplan, “I doped that out myself. Would you care to enlarge on your assessment?”

  “Just drive.”

  Kaplan heard a squeal from the well behind his seat. The girl had come to, but the squeal was more than that. It sounded like something else was hurting her. He looked into the mirror. Crow was sitting high up. He was sitting on his golf bag and he seemed to be bracing. He was putting his weight on her back with those spikes.

  Kaplan hit the brakes and pulled over to the side. He threw the car into Park, spun in his seat, and reached with both hands to grab Crow by the shirt.

  Lockwood said, “Arnold, not here. Let’s just go.”

  Kaplan had already pulled Crow forward between them, dragging him over the seatback. He stiffened his thumb and jammed it under Crow’s jaw. Near its hinge he pressed upward as hard as he could, his thumb nail crushing a cluster of nerves that ran from the jaw to the brain. Crow could only gag. His eyes almost popped. Kaplan would have kept pressing until Crow blacked out if Crow hadn’t bled all over his sleeve.