by R. J. Jagger
“Wait,” Teffinger said.
“Why?”
“Get the skull first.”
“No, it’s cursed.”
“It’s evidence,” Teffinger said.
“Evidence of what?”
“I’m not sure but maybe someone named Poppy.”
Rail shook his head.
“I’m not messing with that thing, not now, not in a hundred years.”
Then he shot six rounds into the floorboard. Water slowly filtered up through the holes, taking some time before filling the boat, which then sank at the stern with the weight of the motor mount. The bow pointed upward, breaking the surface but not by much, a foot at best.
Teffinger’s chest pounded.
The boat, as it now floated, wouldn’t be buoyant enough to support his weight, not to mention the handcuff to the stern would have pulled his head underwater. He would have died if the boat had capsized, plain and simple.
The skull hung a couple of feet diagonal above the surface. Rail put two rounds into it, enough to send it to Davy Jones’ Locker for eternity.
“Let’s go,” he said. “We’re fifty miles out.”
Rail’s appearance wasn’t an accident. Hidden on the shore yesterday, he’d spotted Janjak’s men towing the rowboat out to sea. The skull was a warning to anyone who might offer assistance; especially fishermen, it was a curse to their catch and to their souls, not just today but forever. When Rail got back to the vehicle it was gone, confiscated by Janjak’s men no doubt. He hiked out, hour after hour after hour, finally getting to a crossroad where he was able to hitch a ride into Port-au-Prince. He called Evil Angel, who brought money and food. They rented a Boston Whaler and set out to sea at full throttle as twilight settled in.
The chances of finding Teffinger were remote at best.
Out there, Rail realized just how impossible it was, especially in the dark.
They spent the night at the villa.
In the morning, the marine radios buzzed with fishermen warning each other about a cursed man in a rowboat over near graveyard’s point. Rail and Evil Angel headed for it, searched for hours and eventually got lucky.
Now, at this moment, the ocean danced with long rolling swells but the surface was relatively free of chop, making for a smooth and even enjoyable ride.
Teffinger was alive.
He had water in his body.
Soon he’d have food.
He told Rail everything that happened after they separated yesterday, namely meeting Janjak on the beach, her attempt to make Teffinger believe that Rail had Modeste, carving her back, searching at her request and finding Modeste, unconscious and roughed up but alive.
“I don’t get the back thing,” he said.
Rail frowned.
“That’s one of the way she gets souls,” he said. “She was trying to steal yours. If you died before the wound sealed closed and scared over, your soul would have entered her. When the wound seals, your soul’s locked in. It can’t get back out until and unless the wound is reopened. That’s why she told you not to carve over any of the existing scars.”
Teffinger exhaled.
“Do you actually believe that?”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. She believes it. Those fishermen who left you to die, they believe it.” He smiled and added, “You look like death by the way.”
Teffinger exhaled.
“You should see it from my angle. Time’s running out on Modeste. What about the local police? Can we tap them?”
Rail smirked, negative.
“The first thing they’ll do is figure out you threw a bottle into a man’s face. They’ll have a foreigner in jail, which means money, which is a very, very good thing, and gets better the longer they leave you in. The second thing they’ll do is stay the hell away from Janjak. Why? Because they’re not crazy.”
As the vessel crested a roller, over the bow far in the distance a sliver a land appeared at the horizon.
“Land,” Teffinger said. “So it’s up to us.”
“It always has been.”
Evil Angel spotted a first aid kit latched under the console near Rail’s feet. Inside was burn lotion, which she gently applied it to Teffinger’s face with her tender little Hong Kong fingers. It went on like an icy oasis.
“Us finding you was fate,” she said. “Fate can’t be denied.”
40
Day Six
June 9
Monday Afternoon
Securely and safely on land at Rail’s villa, Teffinger put enough food in his gut to get his strength back and then set off alone down the beach to mull options to get Modeste back, none of which were coming up particularly pretty.
Ten minutes into it, Evil Angel came charging from behind, knocked him to the sand and pinned him down.
“You’re too sexy to be out here by yourself.” She moved her body up until she straddled his chest. “Don’t blow it.”
“Blow what?”
“Your life,” she said. “You’ve been given a second chance. Stay away from Janjak.”
“I wish it was that easy.”
She wiggled on him.
“Rail believes in her powers,” she said.
“What about you?”
“She scares me like nothing else, I know that much.”
Teffinger moved to get up but Evil Angel sunk all her weight on him. He flipped her over and pinned her down, holding her arms up over her head.
“Now who’s on the bottom?”
She lifted her head to kiss him.
He pulled back. Then just as fast something snapped in his brain, something primitive and primeval. He lowered his head and let his lips meet hers.
“What’s the deal with you and Rail?”
“I help manage the band,” she said. “He screws me when he’s not busy doing something else. That’s it.”
“Are you two a thing?”
“You mean romantically?”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“No. What we have, if you could even call it having something, is purely physical. He doesn’t care what you do to me, if that’s what you’re worrying about. No one’s going to get on your case or get mad at you.”
Teffinger’s chest pounded.
He got to his feet, picked the woman up and carried her to the water’s edge, where he lowered into the wet sand. There he pulled off her clothes and took her as the warm salty water lapped up and around their bodies and the sun played on his back.
Nothing had ever felt so good.
Nothing ever would.
Afterwards they left their clothes on the sand and walked down the beach hand in hand, naked, without a soul around, with only the sun and the surf and the horizon line. Kovi-Ke played in Teffinger’s mind but only as a faint shadow. It was strange to think that just a few days ago he was infatuated with her, even knowing she was a killer or somehow mixed up with one—he still hadn’t figured that one out. In fact, he was in Haiti right now because of her. She was the reason he met Evil Angel.
Maybe there was such a thing as fate.
“I’m just going to call you Angel from now on,” he said. “No Evil.”
She smiled.
Then she grew serious.
“Nick, I want to tell you something but you have to promise to keep it to yourself.”
Her face was tense.
“What’s going on?”
“You know the stuff that Rail’s trying to get back? The gold and the diamonds?”
“Yes.”
“Well, there’s a reason,” she said. “He stole the diamonds. They’re not his.”
“I thought the guy was a rock star.”
“He is.”
“So why would he do something that stupid? Wasn’t life already good enough for him?”
“It’s a long story,” Angel said. “The bottom line is he sort of stumbled into a situation where the whole thing got too easy to not just do. He had a foolproof plan where no one woul
d ever figure out it was him. In hindsight, he was stupid.”
“Who’d he steal them from?”
“A Hong Kong man by the name of Kong.”
“That’s where you’re from.”
She nodded.
“What I told you before about helping to manage the band is true,” she said. “What I didn’t tell you is that I have another duty, which is to keep my eyes and ears on Kong to know when and if he ever figures out that Rail was the one behind the theft. When that happens, Rail will have to run and run fast. His rock star days will be over.”
“How to you keep your eyes and ears on Kong?”
“I have my ways,” she said. “I’m telling you this because I could fail at my job without knowing it. Kong could come marching down the beach right now, with everything figured out and without my knowing it. I’m hoping that doesn’t happen but it’s a possibility that both Rail and me have to live with. And you.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning anyone close to Rail at this point in his life is in danger,” she said. “Kong might think you’re implicated. He’d peel your skin off with a potato knife just to find out if he was right or not. Those diamonds are no ordinary stones. They’re world-class. They’re some of the largest ever found. They’re worth tens of millions. My advice to you is to get away from Rail.”
An image flashed in Teffinger’s brain, an image from this morning, of Rail suddenly appearing at the rowboat and sawing the handcuff off Teffinger’s wrist.
“He saved my life.”
“Technically that’s true,” Angel said. “But he didn’t do it because that’s his basic nature. He did it to save himself. You’re the best link he has to the diamonds.”
Teffinger chewed on it.
It tasted sour but it also tasted real.
“What’s he going to do if he gets the diamonds back? Return them?”
“Yes.”
“What about the gold?”
“The gold was his,” she said. “It was a loss but not a matter of life or death. He’s not destitute even without it. The diamonds, that’s the big thing.”
Teffinger silently focused on the fact that he had the diamonds buried in the sand down the road, all but Marilyn, which he could secure easily enough.
He could give them to Rail right now.
He could save Rail’s life, right now.
Ten minutes ago he would have done that, for the sole reason that Rail had saved his life. But now, knowing the real reason Rail did what he did, well, Teffinger was less indebted.
He needed to weigh giving the diamonds back to Rail so the man could live versus keeping them as a bargaining chip to possibly trade for Modeste.
Whose life was worth more?
No, that wasn’t the question.
The question was, whose life was in the most danger right at this exact moment in time?
Modeste.
Rail’s danger was in the future and, in fact, might never materialize.
The answer became clear.
He needed to keep the diamonds hidden.
He needed to concentrate on Modeste.
He looked at Angel.
“Tell me something,” he said. “Why would you risk the wrath of Kong? Rail can’t be paying you enough.”
“I owe him.”
“In what way? Why?”
“He did something for me once upon a time,” she said. “Something big. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Does Kong know that you owe Rail?”
“No. At least I don’t think so.”
41
Day Six
June 9
Monday Afternoon
Teffinger borrowed Angel’s cell phone, dialed his own and got no answer, which was good because it meant it was probably still on the beach with his clothes at Janjak’s and hadn’t been stumbled on yet. Then he dialed Sydney in Denver.
She answered with all the subtleness of a storm.
“Nick, I’ve called you twenty times.”
“Did anyone answer?”
“No.”
“Good. I lost that phone. Kill it for me.”
“You need to get back here,” she said. “Did you hear about Station?”
His chest pounded.
“No. Hear what?”
“She was murdered.”
“That can’t be,” he said. “I talked to her just yesterday morning.”
“It happened yesterday afternoon.”
“How?”
“Someone slit her throat. Her body was found in a boxcar at that industrial rail yard on the north edge of town, the one off Quebec. Her car was parked at the edge of the yard.”
“How about a note? Did you find one?”
“Yes,” she said. “It was a ways off this time, fifty yards at least. We found it in an envelope that was duct taped to a light post. The envelope was completely covered. You didn’t even know it was there until you unwrapped all the tape. It could have stayed there for years.”
“What’d it say?”
“Red sky at morning.”
“Red sky at morning?”
“Yes.”
“It might have something to do with that old rhyme,” Sydney said. “You know the one I’m talking about?”
“No.”
“Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.”
“How about Kovi-Ke?”
“Still AWOL.”
Teffinger exhaled, trying to not reach the conclusion he was getting forced into. The resistance did no good.
“Put a warrant out for her.”
“Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately, I am.”
“Nick, the chief wants you back here, as in the day before yesterday.”
“Tell him I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Which is when?”
“I don’t know. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Nick, you’re going to end up fired—”
He punched off.
His gut churned.
He’d failed.
He’d made bad decisions.
Station was dead because of him.
He’d been warned that she was going to be murdered and did he stay in Denver and tend to business? Did he do one simple thing to protect her other than tell her to get a bodyguard? Did he dig down to where the answers were, the ones that might have saved her?
No.
No.
No.
No and no again.
Nick, you’re going to end up fired.
At this point, that would probably be in everyone’s best interest. If someone capable was in his job, Station might still be alive right now.
Maybe it was time to step aside.
Maybe he should just quit; do it right now, this minute; just call the chief and get it over with before he chickened out.
He headed outside and down the beach, deciding.
One thing for sure, he wasn’t going to step back from Modeste. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake he did with Station. He’d either get her back or die trying.
Screw everything else.
42
Day Six
June 9
Monday Afternoon
Rail had company when Teffinger got back to the villa, a good-looking man in his late forties, white, clean-shaved, with a full head of black hair combed straight back, a man who moved with confidence and looked like he’d be equally at home in a board room or on a sailboat, dressed in khakis and a blue button-down shirt.
“Teffinger, meet Stephen Blake, my IP attorney out of New York.”
They shook hands.
The man had a solid grip.
“New York, huh?”
“Coran, Night & Cage,” Blake said. “Maybe you’ve heard of us?”
“Sorry, no. I’ve heard of New York, though.”
The man smiled.
Rail said, “Copyright, that’s the name of the game. Everything I do, and I mea
n everything, whether it’s writing a line of lyrics, a guitar riff, a whole song, everything, Stephen gets it copyrighted for me, worldwide, before anyone else in the world knows it exists, outside the band of course. It’s an upfront cost but it saves a ton of litigation down the line when someone comes out of the blue and tries to say you stole it from them.”
“Sounds logical,” Teffinger said.
Blake nodded.
“It’s the only way to go. The world’s filled with thieves and lowlifes. Unfortunately, Johnnie and everyone like him are walking targets.”
“I’d imagine so.”
Rail said, “He also does copyright enforcement, cease and desist letters, that kind of thing, although to be honest I don’t really give a rat’s ass if someone else steals my stuff. My primary concern is that no one claims that I stole theirs. I have a reputation to uphold.” Teffinger must have had a look on his face because Rail added, “Give us an hour or so to finish up. Then I’m all yours.”
Teffinger shook Blake’s hand.
“Heading back today?”
“Morning, actually.”
With a wink at Teffinger, Rail slapped the lawyer on the back and said, “There are some pretty good women down in Port-au-Prince. Not that much money, either.”
Stephen shrugged.
“A man’s got to have his vices.”
An hour later Sydney called.
“I just talked to Station’s sister, Melinda,” she said. “She had quite the story.”
“In what way?”
“Two years ago there were four of them on a 38-foot sailboat, Station and Melinda and their two boyfriends at the time, guys named John Vesten, who was with Station, and Danny-Dan Jones, who was with Melinda. They charted the vessel in Jamaica and were sailing to the Dominican Republic on a two-week trip. When they passed by Haiti, they were boarded and Station was taken. The other three were held at gunpoint until the next day, at which point Station was returned. That night, she was subjected to some kind of voodoo ritual.”
“Did anyone report it?”
“No, they were under threat of murder if anyone ever said anything to anybody,” Sydney said. “They made a pact and kept it secret all this time.”