Apocalypse Island (43 page)

“How did her father die, Jennings?”

“What?”

“You heard me. How did her father die?”

“That has nothing to do with it.”

“I think it does. I think it has everything to do with it.”

“It was unsolved,” Jennings said. “They never got the guy.”

“Cavanaugh was there. He saw. He knows. And you know too, don’t you, Jennings?”

“I don’t know anything,” Jennings said. “I’m still trying to figure this mess out.”

“Cavanaugh’s wife is dead, isn’t she?”

“What? How the hell do you know about that?”

“I see things, Jennings. About time you realized it. Laura’s father had figured some things out and when he threatened to expose them he was murdered.”

“But who the hell is killing innocent women?”

“I think it has something to do with me. Leave it alone, Jennings, this isn’t your fight.”

“They’ve made it my fight, Wolf, by taking the person I care most about in this world. Listen, let me help you. We’ll go together. We’ll straighten this out. I promise.”

Wolf didn’t believe Jennings for a minute. He suspected that if he told Jennings where he was he’d be sitting in a jail cell while Jennings and his men went over to the island like gangbusters and royally fucked things up. “I can’t do it,” Wolf said. “I’m sorry, but this is something I have to do alone.” He pressed the off button.

“Shit!” Jennings said and stared at the dead phone in his hand.

Chapter 107

On the way out Jennings called the station and asked to speak with Robeson. He was told that the chief was out and to try his cell phone. Robeson picked up on the first ring. Jennings told him everything; he told him about Laura, about Wolf’s sudden memory return, and about where Wolf was headed and why.

There was silence on the line. “Are you still there, Red?”

“Yeah, Rick, I’m here.”

“Well?”

“You think I’m stupid, Rick? You think I didn’t know you had her working this case? What I don’t know is why. Why her? Why Jack Higgins’s daughter?” Jennings heard anger rising in Red’s voice.

“I had a feeling, that’s all,” Jennings said.

“A feeling about what?”

“That her presence here might help me to understand a little more about why her father’s murder was covered up.”

“Well, have you figured it out?”

“I’m still working on it, but I think I’m real close, Red.”

There was a long silence on the line before Robeson replied. “Listen, Rick, we’ll straighten this out. We’ll get her back.” Robeson’s voice was suddenly conciliatory and Jennings knew he was being had.

“I’m on my way in,” Jennings said. “I want a chopper fueled and a team waiting when I arrive at the airport.”

Robeson grunted out a short laugh. “You don’t have a fucking clue what you’re getting yourself into, Rick.”

“Then why don’t you fill me in.”

“The feds brought in their own chopper. I’m on my way to join them. We’ll be taking off in five minutes.”

“What the hell’s going on over there, Red?”

“There’s something you don’t know about, Rick.”

“No shit! You tell that son-of a bitch Spencer if he harms a hair on Laura Higgins’s head I’ll kill him with my bare hands. You hear me, Red?”

There was a long pause on the line. “I hear you, Rick,” Robeson said, his voice now a mere whisper. “But we’re way past that now.”

“Oh, Christ,” Jennings said, the truth hitting him between the eyes like a sledge hammer. “You’re going after them, aren’t you? You plan on killing them all. I should have seen this from the beginning.”

“Those brats are the least of my worries now,” Robeson said.

“You’re in this up to your armpits, aren’t you?”

“Ever wonder what I did before I came on the force, Rick?”

“I knew you worked in Washington...Jesus, you worked for those bastards, didn’t you? You were involved in all that. You were part of the cover up. That’s why you became chief. The higher ups chose you. They wanted you here to keep an eye on things.”

“You’re finally getting a clue, Jennings.”

“What was so important that you had to bury it forever? What was so fucking important that people had to be murdered?”

“Rick, this is so far over my head I get dizzy when I look up. This is about something no one can ever speak about.”

“You covered up Jack Higgins’s murder because he got too close to it, because he got too close to
you.
Oh my God, Red, you didn’t kill him, did you? Tell me you didn’t kill Jack Higgins.”

“None of that matters now, Rick, and if you know what’s good for you you’ll back all the way off and run for your life.”

Jennings froze speechless. He remembered the warning calls he’d been receiving—
back all the way off
—and knew now who’d been making them.

“Time for talk is over,” Robeson said coldly.

“Oh, Christ, Red.”

“Listen, Rick, I told you, there’s a lot you don’t understand. There’s things you’ll never understand. Things you’ll never be allowed to know. I’ve got to go now.”

“Don’t hang up on me, Red.”

Too late. Robeson was gone.

Jennings called the station and told the sergeant on duty to have a helicopter waiting at the airport. Next he called Persephone Wilder. She answered on the third ring. He asked if she would like to take a chopper ride.

“What’s going on, Rick?”

Jennings gave her a brief rundown.

“My God,” she said. “This is getting weirder by the minute.”

“Bet your ass it is.” Jennings heard a whooshing sound on the line. “Where are you?”

“I’m on the road,” Wilder told him. “Just coming into Portland. Where do you want me to meet you?”

“At the airport. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

“Okay, I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”

The moment he hung up, his phone went off.

“Jennings, this is Wolf.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been giving it some thought and decided there’s something you need to know.”

“Why the change of heart?”

“Let’s just say I want Laura back as much as you do.”

“Okay, I’m listening.  Are you sure about this, Wolf?” Jennings asked when Wolf had finished.

“As sure as I can be. Memory’s a funny thing.”

Jennings heaved a massive sigh. “Yeah, tell me about it. Listen. This changes things.”

“How so?”

“It’s getting harder to tell friends from enemies.”

“What’s the old saying? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

“I got it. You still want to go over there alone, Wolf?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Still don’t trust me, huh?”

“What do you think?”

“Okay, if that’s the way you want to play it, then there’s something you need to know.” Wolf listened.

Chapter 108

Like a black ghost the Bell 429 Helicopter—the government’s latest in whisper-quiet technology—materialized out of the darkness and settled gently and quietly onto the tarmac at the end of the five thousand foot runway.

The airfield, which was completely surrounded by electrified chain-link fence topped with razor wire, sat atop a flat blueberry plain two hundred yards above the gutted Saint Francis orphanage. The flat-top island had been a perfect location for the small Second World War era military airport. It was nothing elaborate but highly functional, with a couple of small hangers, a maintenance shed, a refueling station and a small office building. They’d kept it purposely low-key. It was the perfect place for a secret CIA-run operation.

As the chopper’s blades began to wind down Spencer eased out of the pilot seat and removed his flight helmet. He stepped out through the open doorway onto the tarmac followed by Robeson and half a dozen security forces, all armed and decked out in SWAT gear. The security forces quickly fanned out, forming a protective circle around the chopper door where two technicians—one short, the other tall—exited carrying a large suitcase about the size of a footlocker.

“Be careful,” Spencer warned. “She’s a delicate little baby.”

“Don’t worry, Boss Man,” replied Tall Tech. “Everything’s under control.”

Spencer nodded as the two men headed for the door of the nearest building, the security forces shielding them as they went.

Chapter 109

Wolf pulled the car over to the curb near the mall in South Portland, his mind reeling. He sat for a few moments breathing deeply, formulating his plan, unable to believe he’d made it this far without getting popped. The city was crawling with cops.

Getting out of the car, he dropped Laura’s phone in his pocket and carefully tucked her automatic in his belt which he covered over with the tail of his shirt.

He hailed a cab and instructed the driver take him to the Portland waterfront. Fifteen minutes later he stepped out onto Commercial Street. The district was filled with young people all dressed like it was Halloween. Darkly attired goths were whooping it up, moving in and out of bars, restaurants, souvenir shops, tattoo parlors. Halloween
was
just two days away, he knew, but it didn’t matter to most of these kids. Every day was Halloween to them. He’d gotten used to all the craziness since getting out of jail. It was as if something was leaching across the land—or perhaps the water—changing things, changing people. He stared across the dark water toward Apocalypse Island and heaved a deep sigh. Live music blasted from one of the Old Port clubs and he briefly wondered what his band and the Cavern Club had done since he hadn’t shown up for work. He dismissed the thought as irrelevant now. He needed to concentrate. He needed to find a way across the water.

He jogged across Commercial Street away from all the bustling activity and down toward the waterfront. Here there were piers and docks and fish processing plants and floating restaurants. Ocean-going vessels of every stripe were berthed here, from private yachts to working fishing boats to small skiffs with attached outboard motors. It was late evening, and other than the restaurants, there wasn’t much activity on the docks themselves. He jogged up and down the wooden platforms looking for signs of life. He was seriously thinking of stealing a skiff when he spotted a light on in one of the boat cabins.

He sprinted down the gangplank, his urgent footfalls drawing the owner out on deck.

“Something I can help you with?” asked the man.

“I need to get to Apocalypse Island,” Wolf said.

The fisherman stared skeptically at him. “Ferry doesn’t run until 6 am.”

“Has to be tonight,” Wolf said.

“Wind’s picking up,” the man replied. “No time to be on the water.

“I can pay you.”

Wolf saw greed light up the man’s eyes.

“How much money you got?”

Wolf reached in his pocket, pulled out a wad of cash and started counting. “Hundred and forty three dollars. That’s everything.”

“Well, better get going then before weather sets in.” The boat captain held out his hand. Wolf put the cash in it. The man pocketed the money, jumped out onto the dock and began untying lines. Wolf pitched in and five minutes later they were motoring slowly through the harbor. “Name’s Johnson,” said the captain. “Skip Johnson.”

“Nice to meet you, Skip” Wolf replied. “Name’s Wolf.”

Johnson stared expressionless at Wolf for a long moment before extending his hand. Wolf took it. By the time they reached open water six foot swells were pounding the boat and rain was pelting the windshield. It had been unseasonably cold in recent days, and now a warm front was making its way through the area kicking off some late season thunderstorms. In the distance, above the clouds, silent chains of lightening exploded like bursts of ordinance, their momentary shocks of brilliance illuminating the black ocean around them and the wooded islands ahead. Apocalypse stood out in the stroboscopic brilliance like a dark blight on the water.

Inside the dry boat cabin Johnson watched his instruments, using them to navigate by. “What’s over on Apocalypse?” he casually asked.

“Unfinished business,” Wolf replied.

The captain gave a slow, knowing nod but did not ask any more questions. A helicopter droned overhead.

Thirty minutes later they were docking at Apocalypse Island’s main pier. By now the rain was falling in wind-driven sheets.

“Thanks for the ride,” Wolf said.

“Ain’t you gonna need a lift back to the mainland?” Johnson asked.

“Don’t think I could afford it,” Wolf said.

Skip Johnson smiled a little sheepishly. “Oh, I think that’d be covered with what you already gave me.”

“Thanks,” Wolf said, “but I might be a while.”

“You in trouble?” Johnson asked.

Wolf hauled in a deep lungful of air, sighed it out. “Let’s just say there might be trouble waiting for me here.”

“This island seems to breed trouble,” Johnson said sadly. “Always has. What’s your trouble with it?”

“Someone took a friend of mine against her will. I aim to get her back.”

“What makes you think they came here?”

Wolf shrugged. “It’s a long story.”

Johnson nodded in understanding. “Well, probably gonna hang tight a spell anyway. Least till the bad weather passes.” And as if in response to his statement, thunder clapped loudly overhead before rolling across the sky like a cosmic bowling ball. “Yup, believe some heavy shit is about to descend upon us.”

“You might be right about that,” Wolf said.

“Got some fire power below deck if you need it,” Johnson said.

“Very kind of you,” Wolf said and meant it. “But I think I’m covered.” He pulled his shirt aside revealing the automatic.

“If you get in trouble there’s a feller lives over on the seaward side of the island, might be of some help.”

“Yeah, who?”

“Name’s Tanis Richey. He’s a friend of mine, along with some other residents hereabouts.”

Wolf stood for a long moment in thought. The name Tanis Richey seemed to stir something in his memory. Then the spark was gone. “Who is he?”