Blood in the Water
Page 34
He shook his head slowly. ‘Juan Suarez received his fate. Will you accept your fate as well?’
Soh looked around the room, and Cormack could see the panic in his eyes. All at once, he leapt from his chair and shouted orders at the three men standing behind him. They reacted, but not in the way that he anticipated. One of them drove the butt of his gun into Soh’s stomach, and the other two fell upon him to restrain him.
‘Bring him to the car,’ Pineda said. ‘And bring the machetes.’
He stood up, and the chair breathed a sigh of relief. He looked at Cormack. ‘It was dangerous of you to contact me.’
‘I didn’t think I had a choice. And I knew my counterpart in Los Angeles would know how to reach you.’
‘How?’
Cormack shrugged. ‘It’s the job of the head of the harbor union to know everything that happens in his harbor. I just figured …’
‘Thank you for the information,’ Pineda said.
Cormack stood. ‘I thought you should know.’
‘I will make sure that whoever takes over here will obey your rules.’
Cormack knew that that was a lie, but there seemed little advantage in pointing that out at the moment. He just nodded and walked to the door.
Behind him, he could hear Soh shout his name, but he was immediately silenced, as the three men he had thought were loyal to him pummeled him into the cement floor.
Cormack walked out without looking back.
Seventy-Six
Friday 6 September
Diamond bore the labor bravely, particularly given its duration. Twenty-seven hours wasn’t a record on the maternity ward, but it was enough to draw the admiration of the nurses who spent their lives ushering souls into the world.
It was worth it, in the end. Everyone agreed that they had never seen a more beautiful baby. Buddy, who had stayed by her side all through the labor, and looked almost as tired as she did, beamed nonetheless as he held his son.
Mack Cavanaugh.
It was an oddly mature name for a newborn, and yet somehow it seemed to fit. The boy hardly cried, and there was a strange self-assurance about him as he lay comfortably in his mother’s arms. It was almost as though the peace that generations had sought found purchase in the baby boy.
The boy’s grandfather, for whom the boy was named, was the first one in the room once it was acceptable. He brought cigars that couldn’t be lit, and pride that couldn’t be extinguished. And as the commotion of the delivery died down, the baby was left alone with the only three members of his family.
‘What now?’ she asked.
‘Now, you get some rest,’ the boy’s father responded.
‘No, I mean for us.’
‘Now, we get back to normal,’ her father said.
‘What’s normal for us?’
He shrugged. ‘Fall is here, and winter won’t be far behind. The harbor is running smoothly again, thanks to Buddy. He’s a natural at scheduling and making sure everything is accounted for … and everyone is accounting.’
‘I enjoy it,’ the younger man said.
‘Good,’ the new grandfather said. ‘I’m getting older. And if it’s possible, I’d like to keep this a family business.’
She looked down at her newborn and smiled. ‘What do you think, Mack?’ she asked. ‘Would you be OK if we built this together as a family.’
The baby looked up at her and gurgled amicably.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Then it’s settled.’
Acknowledgments
There are too many people to thank for all the help with this book, including all of my family and friends, as well as those who read manuscripts and provided thoughts and advice. In particular, I would like to thank my editors, Trisha Jackson and Peter Wolverton for all their help and advice. Also, many thanks to the teams at Macmillan: in the UK, thanks to Jayne Osborne, Natalie Young, Fraser Crichton, Liz Cowen, Philippa McEwan, Neil Lang, and Stuart Wilson; in the US, thanks to Hannah O’Grady, Hector DeJean, Joseph Brosnan, David Rotstein, Steven Seighman, Elizabeth Curione, Cathy Turiano, Kelley Ragland and Andrew Martin. I would also like to thank all the wonderful people at the Aaron Priest Agency, including Aaron Priest, Lisa Erbach Vance, Lucy Childs, Mitch Hoffman, Eileen Priest, John Richmond, Juliana Nador and Francis Jalet-Miller.
About the Author
Jack Flynn is a lawyer in Boston and has worked pro bono on behalf of wrongly convicted individuals. He lives south of the city and writes on his daily commute across Boston Harbor.
First published 2019 by Macmillan
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