‘And the coastguard?’
‘The same.’
‘You were looking out for your deputies,’ Chris said.
‘Didn’t want anything to go wrong this far down the line.’ He smiled. ‘So - anything you want to share with me? Like the whereabouts of a couple of Monets?’
Karen smiled.
‘Glad to be rid of them, frankly.’ She pointed at the bed. ‘You’re lying on them. Well, above them.’
‘Take a look would you, Barbara?’ Wilson said, his eyes still on the robbers.
‘I should fire your cleaner, honey,’ Karen said to Barbara. ‘It’s like the Dustbowl under there.’
Barbara was down on her hands and knees, ostentatiously sticking her ass in the air. Wilson was distracted by it. She had a nice ass, as Wilson knew from experience. She looked up at him and nodded, smirking when she saw the look on his face.
‘Two canvases there.’
‘You’re welcome to them,’ Karen said. ‘But there’s a quid pro quo.’
Wilson looked back at Karen and Chris. They were standing now and she had a gun in her hand. Smith’s Sig Sauer.
She saw him looking at the gun.
‘I’m guessing you don’t want to be shot by the same gun twice,’ she said.
‘What’s the quid pro quo?’ Wilson said.
‘You let us leave the island - give us half an hour before you raise the alarm.’
‘You expect me just to let you go?’ he said.
‘Sheriff, we could take the paintings with us but we’ll settle for our freedom.’
‘You’re not going to shoot me,’ Wilson said.
‘Probably not,’ Karen agreed. She looked down at the gun in her hand. ‘These things are damned stupid really unless you are willing to shoot.’ She looked back at Wilson. ‘You know we haven’t done anything really wrong. We’re sorry as hell for the deaths but our hands are clean.’
‘You brought the killers onto the island, you’ve robbed and you’ve kidnapped.’
‘We were misinformed. And the rest – you got the goods back…’
Wilson gestured at Lester and Barbara.
‘Let these folks leave the room so we can work out a deal in private.’
‘Negative,’ Chris said. ‘How about they go in the bathroom?’
‘Oh good,’ Barbara said. ‘I’m dying for a pee.’
‘Lester, you and Barbara go in the bathroom,’ Wilson said. ‘Don’t try anything fancy though. Really. Just wait in there.’
When the bathroom door was closed Wilson turned to Karen and Chris.
‘I’m going to agree to your proposal but on one condition.’
‘We’re listening,’ Chris said.
‘You’re going to have to give up the person who brought the job to you.’
Chris shook his head but Karen squeezed his arm.
‘He sicked King Kong and his brother on us, Chris.’
‘And I wouldn’t be surprised if their double-cross wasn’t always part of the set-up,’ Wilson said. He smiled. ‘Do we have a deal?’
Karen waited for Chris to speak.
‘His name is Joey,’ he said, as the toilet flushed in the bathroom.
‘Piss cascades down,’ Lewis was saying. ‘It’s all about the stronger and the weaker and the even weaker. And I’m still the one doing the pissing.’
‘You’re right, you’re right,’ Joey said.
‘So, Joey, what’s your grievance? You’re sounding aggrieved.’
‘Aggrieved?’
‘The word means pissed, Joey. You pissed?’
‘You’ve put me in a bind, Lewis.’
‘And that would be how? And that would be why do I care about your bind?’
‘You told me to sick those Appalachian inbreds on Karen and Chris.’
‘Karen and Chris? Remind me.’
‘They’re good robbers. I’ve got a good relationship with them.’
‘Joey, I’ve always been hands-off on the small stuff.’
‘This is big stuff. Those New York paintings?’
‘Oh yeah, yeah. There’s a problem?’
‘It’s got complicated.’
‘Sounded pretty straightforward to me. They steal the pictures off your idiot New York rich boy then we get the pictures off them and we go home rich.’
‘Your Appalachian in-breds went nuts, the New York rich boy is pissed and we don’t have the pictures.’
‘All of which sounds like your problem. All I’m interested in is getting my money. Which, I seem to recall, was in the high Many Millions.’
‘The paintings are stuck on the island.’
‘What island?’
‘Lewis, you said you didn’t want to know the details. The paintings were on an island being copied.’
‘What island? Rykers? Catalina? Hawaii? And best take the bass out of your voice, Joey. Don’t forget why we got into this deal – on account of you owing me something you can’t repay.’
‘I know that, Lewis. I know that. I’m sorry. I’m upset. It’s some island off Georgia, the Carolinas – back of beyond. You know.’
Lewis looked across the yard.
‘Say what? Island off Georgia?’ He thought for a moment. ‘Could I be so fucking lucky?’
‘You lost me, Lewis…’
‘Yeah,’ Lewis said eventually. ‘I lost somebody else too. What’s the name of this island?’
‘Paradise. Paradise – don’t you love it?’
Lewis was thinking. Thought of himself as a cerebral man. Cerebral – another word he’d recently learned. Hell, he was turning into a dictionary.
He hung up, dug in his pocket and found the scrap of paper with the number of Wilbur’s motel on it. He dialled it.
Wilbur Parker got free by dumb luck and a bit of slapstick. He was being handcuffed to the hospital bed when the policeman crouching beside him suddenly catapulted forward. Parker heard the impact of skull on metal bedframe and the rattle of a trolley and a woman’s voice yelping:
‘Oh God, I’m sorry - I didn’t see you.’
Parker had quick reflexes, even when his eyes hurt like hell. Actually, he knew it wasn’t his eyes, knew his eyes had no feeling in them. He’d read once that Isaac Newton had experimented on himself by sticking needles in his eyes without pain. It was everything around his eyes, front and back, that hurt like hell.
He pulled the still open handcuff free of the bed and stood, barging into some kind of trolley, presumably the one the woman had pushed into the policeman. He could hear a swing door squeaking closed. His vision was limited to blurry shapes and light and dark.
‘Wait,’ the woman said and he felt her hand on his arm. He brought his elbow up, aiming for where he imagined her chin was. He was off but not by much and he heard her crash into a wall and slump against a wall.
He pushed his way through the swing door, ready for another policeman to be outside. There didn’t seem to be anybody. He felt his way along the corridor until he came to another swing door. He pushed through it and tried to see where he was. He stepped forward and again. As he realised he was in a stairwell he stumbled and fell down most of a flight of stairs. He grabbed for the banister and made his unwieldy way down the next. His shins were raw and sore.
Where to go? He wasn’t going back to Paradise Island, that was for damned sure. He’d never abandoned a job but this was going to be the exception. He’d get to a phone and get help, go off the radar until his eyes had healed. Then he’d decide where his future lay.
Chapter Twenty
Wilson was sitting on his verandah with a blanket over his lap when he heard the porch door open. There was a knock on the interior door.
‘I’m out back,’ he called.
He heard footsteps down the side of the house and a shock of blonde hair appeared round the corner of the veranda.
‘Madam Mayor. Here for an update? I’m just off the phone.’
She stepped up onto the veranda, her bag clasped in both hands in front
of her.
‘How are you, Harry? You’re shot up pretty bad huh?’
‘I’m only an arm and a leg down,’ he said. ‘And they are on opposite sides so I’m kind of balanced.’ He gestured with his right hand, wincing as he did so. ‘Sit.’
‘I don’t really have time,’ she said, reaching into her handbag. ‘I’m sorry, Harry.’
‘Me too,’ Wilson said, taking the gun in his left hand out from under the blanket.
‘Harry?’
Her hand was still in her handbag.
‘Don’t, Madam Mayor. It’s only money. It’s not worth dying for.’
She didn’t move for a moment.
‘Please, sit. Then place your bag by the side of your chair.’
‘What are you doing, Harry?’
‘If there isn’t a gun in your handbag I’ll apologise all to hell. Until then, please do as I ask.’
She sat and placed the bag beside her chair. It rolled forward. Wilson saw the glint of gunmetal in the purse.
‘How did you know?’ she said.
‘To be honest, I don’t know what I know. I just remember your keenness to keep the SWAT off the island. And I wondered why you were calling Julian and what was going on with you and Bartram. And then when I heard about his wife catching him with another woman it all became clear.’
‘She told you,’ Horton said, her voice flat.
‘No, no. She never returned my calls. The man was right. About the rich I mean. They’re not like the rest of us. They have their own rules.’
‘And more money. Only a man who has never had any could say ‘it’s only money’.’
‘Some of which you wanted. When he told you about the divorce I’m guessing you put the idea in his head about the Monets.’
‘Julian had done some copies of some art of mine. He was brilliant.’
‘But I don’t think you told Frank the whole story.’
‘Meaning?’
‘I don’t think you told him you were going to steal them for yourself.’
‘What an absurd thing to say.’
‘Madam Mayor. I know you regard sex as a negotiable asset. I can’t imagine for one moment you have strong feelings for Frank Bartram. However, I’m certain you have strong feelings for his money. But marrying him would be too complicated. Stealing his pictures would be something else.
‘Karen and Chris didn’t know who they were working for. They were tipped by Joey, the guy who was going to shift the paintings. I’m thinking you put Bartram in touch with Joey. I’m expecting Bartram to confirm that shortly.’
‘What a duplicitous mind you have. How would I know this Joey?’
‘I’ll be finding that out when I meet him.’
‘I hear you let Karen and Chris go.’
‘Even lent them my car. We made an arrangement.’
He didn’t mention he’d also given his passport away.
‘You and your arrangements,’ she said.
‘Mr Smith escaped from hospital in Brunswick. I’ve just heard. You were right about keeping it on the island. If you want something doing right around here, best do it yourself.’
‘A lesson I’ve learned,’ she said, glancing down at her bag. ‘What about your WITSEC man, this Luke Hanson?’
‘He’s gone. It’s as if he never existed.’
Horton shook her head and laughed her tinkling laugh.
‘The Monets are in my living room,’ Wilson said.
‘I heard that. A little reckless of you, don’t you think?’
The Mayor had a quick, quick mind, Wilson had always known that. Especially when it came to figuring angles. She was figuring angles now. Her eyes hadn’t left his face since she sat down. He knew she was looking for just one slip from him to allow her to make a move.
‘So now you’re sitting on two Monets. Hope you’ve put them in the fridge or somewhere cool. This island always seemed a damn stupid place to bring them anyway.’
‘They’re propped up on the sofa, actually. Sit back in your seat, why don’t you, Madam Mayor. Cross your legs.’
‘So you can look up my skirt, you dirty man?’
As she crossed her legs, she pulled her skirt up higher, showing a lot of thigh.
‘I know you’ve got lovely legs, Madam Mayor. You think flashing them will work on me?’
‘Flashing them wasn’t all I had I mind, Harry. I seem to recall you enjoyed me wrapping them round you in all kind of ways. And I don’t think it was just my legs you were looking at.’
‘Guilty on all charges.’
‘There. So we have the beginnings of a negotiation.’
‘We do?’
‘Sure we do. I think both of us regretted leaving it at just that one night. I know I did. I’ve been getting hot quite regularly thinking about a repeat performance with you. I’m willing to bet you’ve had the same train of thought.’
‘You’d win that bet. But – and no offence intended – do you think what you have between your legs is worth 16 million dollars? That night was great but it wasn’t that great.’
‘Eight million dollars – I’d be keeping half. And we wouldn’t get that, of course.’
‘Even so.’
‘You’re a ninny, Harry. I’m suggesting we partner up. We share the proceeds, we share a bed, see how that works out. It doesn’t, we still come out of it nicely.’
‘I’m an officer of the law, Madam Mayor.’
‘Harry, please, spare me. I know what you are, deep down.’
‘Ah yes. The idea you have that you hired someone corruptible.’
‘Corrupted, the way I heard it.’
‘Just so we’re clear on this. What exactly do you believe I have done?’
‘Turned a blind eye in return for a bribe.’
‘I look that sort of person, do I?’
‘Don’t take it personally, Harry. Everybody is that sort of person if the price is right.’
‘And what kind of high-living have I spent this bribe on?’
‘Maybe none at all. Some people sell themselves cheap.’
Wilson sighed.
‘And I look like that kind of person too?’
‘So tell me it’s not true but explain why, if that’s the case, you took this half-assed job.’
‘You lost the right to know my reasons when first you tried to con me then you came here to kill me.’
‘Shoot you. I don’t know that you would have died.’
‘Unless I was dead, how were you going to get away free?’
She started to lean forward but he gestured her back.
‘Darn, you’re right. I’m sorry to hear that though. Still, now we have our new option. You and me.’
He shook his head.
‘Not going to happen.’
‘Then what? We’re going to sit here for the rest of time? Because you can’t move and there’s no one coming to help you. The only people coming will be Bartram’s men and then the game is over for you.’
‘Bartram is in one of my cells and his men have run for cover. It’s all over Kathryn.’
She touched her mouth with a long finger.
‘In that case, we may as well relax and have a drink. Want me to raid your fridge?’
She started to rise. He shook his head.
‘I’m not sure you would shoot me, Harry.’
‘Are you willing to bet your life on that?’
‘Hell, yes. No way would you shoot me dead. But I’m not even sure you’d shoot to disable.’
‘Don’t put me to the test.’
She waved a leg.
‘You’d shoot me in one of my pins – wouldn’t that be a crime?’
He smiled.
‘My heart would hurt but it wouldn’t stop me.’
‘Well, Harry, my darling, enough theorising. Let’s see what the reality is.’
‘Don’t, Kathleen,’ he said. ‘Don’t put me to the test.’
‘Oh, Harry. I think you were put to the test long ago – and you we
re found wanting. Don’t you remember?’
‘Do you even know how to drive a motorboat?’ he said.
‘Bravo, Harry. You guessed my plan. If Bartram is really in one of your cells it seems a shame to leave his lovely boat moored all alone in his harbour.’
‘Do you know how to drive it?’ he repeated.
‘What’s to know?’ Horton said. ‘It’s not like there are lanes or oncoming vehicles to worry about.’
‘There are shoals and rocks and fast currents,’ Wilson said. ‘If you hit something at speed, you’re dead.’
‘That would be a metaphor for life, then,’ Horton said.
‘A metaphor for life and death. And we’ve had enough death.’
Horton stood.
‘I’m going now.’ She glanced down at her bag. ‘You can keep my bag. I can get a new one when I get where I’m going.’
‘You’re not going anywhere.’
She smiled at him. One of her killer smiles.
‘Sure, Harry.’ She raised her hand and used three fingers to give a little girly wave. ‘Ta ta.’
He raised his gun but he didn’t fire when she turned and walked into the house. He listened to the tap-tap of her shoes as she entered the living room. He heard the front door open and close. He heard her car start and head north. He closed his eyes. He wasn’t in a hurry. He knew where she’d be headed and he knew what awaited her there.
He imagined her wrapping the two paintings carefully in waterproof oilskin. He imagined her getting in Bartram’s boat, gunning it out of the dock and heading for the lights of Brunswick, glittering low on the distant horizon.
He didn’t really imagine she’d never reach them.
Natasha Innocent looked out at the broiling sea and wept. She loved this island and every shiver of wind through the palm fronds of the sabal palmettos. The feral cows wandering through the mansion ruins. The Spanish moss on the live oaks swaying in the salty sea breezes. The marshes at low tide, teeming with painted buntings, woodpeckers and snowy egrets. The alligators in freshwater ponds. The turtles Josie had been obsessed with.
She wept for Josie. She wept for herself. Which, she guessed, was what tears always came down to in the end.
Chapter Twenty One
Paradise Island Page 23