Dead and Gone (38 page)

So far, all quiet.

M
onday night, 8:08 p.m. I punched the long string of numbers he’d given me into the cellular, giving myself a two-minute margin for the international connections to go through.

The Mole nodded to tell me the harmonizer was working perfectly. Gem knelt at my feet, her cheek against my thigh. Max was in another room of the clinic, watching the old man. The Prof and Clarence were outside, checking the grounds.

Showtime.

The phone was answered on the third ring. By a crisp-sounding young woman who spoke unaccented English. Aryan English.

“Chancellor of Darcadia’s office. How may I direct your call?”

“To Chancellor König himself, please. This is W. Allen Preston. I understand he is expecting my call.”

“Yes, sir. Please hold while I connect you.”

The connection took a lot longer than it would to push a button. No surprises yet.

“This is Chancellor König,” a voice said. Not one that I recognized. I brushed the dark fluttering wings of panic off my mind, staying focused. Would I really know his voice after all these years, anyway? And with the bridged-through connections …?

“Chancellor, this is Allen Preston, calling as agreed. I am honored to speak with you.”

“The honor is mine, I assure you,” he said. “So I trust you will forgive my bluntness, sir. Before we get to specifics, to the entire authentication process”—a window opened in my mind:
Authentication. Lune’s own word. What if?
I slammed that window shut, focusing hard on him saying, “…  we would need to know the size of your contemplated … investment.”

“I am prepared to invest twenty-five million dollars,” I told him, my tone conveying that, while I respected such an amount, I wasn’t in awe of it.

“You do understand that, given the fledgling nature of Darcadia as an international entity, we cannot, at present, accept—”

“The investment would be liquid,” I cut him off, trying for an old man’s imperious timbre. A
rich
old man’s. “The twenty-five million would be in American dollars only as a point of reference. It could be delivered in any currency you select, via wire transfer.”

“Yes, I see we understand each other. And you would expect … what, precisely, for your investment?”

“The opportunity—no, the
guarantee
—to live as I choose,
exactly
as I choose, without fear of government intrusion.
Any
government’s.”

“Surely that sum of money could buy you those same—”

“Forgive an old man’s abruptness,” I cut him off again. “But all such options have been explored, thoroughly. And rejected on two grounds: First, I wish to be a
participant
in government, not a mere guest. This is because I will not tolerate being an extortion victim for various ‘taxes’ of an ever-escalating variety. Second, the most accommodating governments are inherently unstable, and I cannot risk a change in power placing me at risk, especially as I will not use air transport of any kind.”

“I understand. And on Darcadia—”

“I assume the third consideration is not necessary to mention, despite its being inherent in my requirements.”

“I am sure not,” he said, smoothly, refusing to take offense at my constant interruptions. “Waterfront property is available, with sufficient dockage constructible to accommodate ships of any size. But I believe ambiguity is a potential source of dissatisfaction between associates and, thus, should be eliminated. So, as to your other specifications, if you will enlighten me …”

“Certainly, sir. Those ‘accommodating’ governments of which I spoke are run by mud people. I will not spend my final years in a country controlled by animals. You describe Darcadia, if I have read your prospectus correctly, as a country which would be openly racialist in its orientation.”

“Darcadia is a sovereign area. As such, it is free to—”

“Are you deliberately evading my question?” I snapped at him.

“Mr. Preston, my apologies if you took that to be my intent. Let me match your bluntness with my own. Non-Aryans will not be permitted on Darcadian soil.”

“Ah, that is unfortunate,” I said, setting my own hook.

“Sir?”

“I have certain … servants, if you will, who are not Aryans. They are my … preference. Am I communicating sufficiently?”

“You are,” he said, returning serve effortlessly. “My apologies. I should have explained that the prohibition is against citizenship
and
tourism. But Darcadians who enjoy a certain … status would be free to operate their private estates entirely at their own discretion. Is that satisfactory?”

“It … sounds so,” I said, centering myself for the bluff that the whole thing hinged on. “But I would need to see who I would be dealing with as
well
as the specifics of the deal. After all, what I would be investing in is, to some extent, intangible … at least for the present. But what I would be delivering is
quite
tangible. So, if you can come to my estate on Key West, at your convenience of course, we could finalize—”

“My regrets,” he said. “This would be, frankly, impossible. News of Darcadia has attracted considerable government interest. And I
am
, at least on paper, an American citizen. Neither I nor my Cabinet can subject ourselves to the jurisdiction of—”

“Yes, yes,” I cut him off, impatience dominating my voice. “All right.
You
pick our meeting place, then. But let me caution you: I will
not
fly. I simply don’t trust airplanes. So, if it is a considerable distance, be prepared to wait until I can make the journey by ship.”

“You are being more than reasonable, sir. Could I ask you to call back in twenty-four hours? I will have an answer for you then. A satisfactory answer, you have my word on that.”

“Twenty-four hours from right now? Or at eight-ten my time tomorrow night?”

“You are a very precise man.” He chuckled appreciatively. “Let us say eight-ten once more. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” I said. And hung up on him.

“Call them in,” I told Gem.

T
he next night, I went through the same routine, including the “receptionist,” and got him on the line. As soon as he started talking, I had to shut him down.

“Look,” I told him, allowing the impatience of the character I was playing to come through clearly, “just because I own a yacht doesn’t make me a damn sailor. You’re going to have to go slow; I need to write this all down.”

“Certainly,” he said, calmly. “Remember, we are meeting on your terms. That is, a place you can reach by boat. Your captain will know the Oregon coast …?”

I felt a bone-deep chill. How could he …? I rotated my head, slow and soft, like Max had shown me. Then reversed the direction. When I had control of my voice, I said: “What are you asking? Can he
find
the damn coast, or is he
familiar
with it?”

“The former, sir.”

“Then of course!”

“All right. Please set sail for the coastline on the California-Oregon border. Once you are in that area, I will provide your captain with precise instructions.”

“I’m not pulling in to any—”

“No, sir. We will meet at sea. Fair enough?”

“I’ll be traveling a long way—”

“I understand that, sir.”

“—with a lot of money. I trust I won’t be disappointed.”

“You will not, I promise you. Until then.”

“B
y the time we get there, it will be right around the first of May,” Flacco said. “Even out where he wants to meet, the sea’ll be sweet and calm. Like glass, especially at first light. Anyway, as calm as it ever gets off Oregon; that is one
bad
coastline,
hombre.”

“That’s more than three weeks,” I said. “It’ll take that long?”

“I’m giving us a little margin, just in case of weather, but that’s about right. We looked his ship over, and she’s like new. Perfect. We can carry about thirty-five hundred gallons, cruise around twenty-two knots, and we’re working with a range of maybe four thousand miles. So figure Galveston to Progreso to Panama, maybe a week. Then we go through the Canal to Cabo San Lucas.…”

I gave him a “What?” look.

“That is the tip of Baja,
hombre
. Me and Gordito, we know it well, don’t we,
compadre?”

Gordo just smiled.

“Our next leg is into Dago, then up to San Francisco. Got to allow, oh, two weeks max for that one. Finally, we lay in once we get near the Oregon border. From there, we can hit any spot he picks in two, three hours max.”

“I thought the Panama Canal was only for commercial ships.”

“No way. You pay the freight, they let you ride. We lock it from port to port—Cristobal going in, and we exit at Balboa. Whole trip takes maybe nine, ten hours; nothing to it.”

“How much is the toll?”

“Depends on the size of the ship. The one we got, under five grand, my best guess.”

“And you just drive up and pay the toll, like going over a bridge?”

“No,” Gordo answered. “It is not like that at all, my friend.” He used his fingers to tick off requirements he’d obviously memorized. “We have to radio prior to arrival—ninety-six, seventy-two, forty-eight, and twenty-four hours in front. We make contact on VHF Channel 12, then they find us a working channel to finish up. Then everyone on board needs ID; it’s called a Landing Card. You get those when you hit the first pier.
After
you pay them.”

“Damn.”

“Oh, there’s more,” he went on. “They’ll want a Quarantine Declaration and one for any cargo, too. A crew-and-passenger list. Lots of stuff. And they can inspect you at
any
time. So we also need an International Tonnage Certificate with all its calculation sheets attached, Lines Plans for the Offset Tables,
mucho
paper, man. I don’t know if all that’s on board. It
should
be—that beauty’s an oceangoer, no question. But they’ll do all the measuring and stuff right there if we want. So long as we—”

“—pay for it,” I finished for him.

“You got it. And when it comes to paper, Gem …”

She nodded. “We have all gone through the Canal before,” she said. “It is no problem.”

I
t took a half-line in under eight hours.

“You still want to walk that path with me?” I asked him. “Yes.”

“Ever been on a boat?”

“I was a Marine,” he said, as if that answered the question.

I gave him the meet-point in Galveston. “Bring your tools,” I told him. “There’s something we’re going to need to fix.”

“C
an you make one, Mole?”

“It would depend on whether the contact point is organic or inorganic.”

“Huh?”

“Wood is organic. Metal or plastic is inorganic.”

“Ah. I don’t know.”

“I would have to make two, then. The simple one is a penetrator. The other would require either a magnet or suction of some sort. How long would it have to remain in place?”

“An hour?”

“Exposed to the elements?”

“Hell
, yes. Probably get blasted with salt water all the time.”

“The miniaturization is very simple. But given your limited options for a propellant, and the need for accuracy, both devices would have to be the same external configuration.”

“I guess so.”

“My man can do it,” Michelle said, confidence radiating off her gorgeous face.

The Mole blushed. But he didn’t deny it.

“I’ll need at least three of each of them,” I told him.

“O
kay,” I said to everyone, “here’s how we’ve got to work it.

Flacco and Gordo will be handling the ship. Levi will ride along with us. With me, Gem, and Max, that’s six.”

“Plus the two props,” Gem added.

“I’m not so crazy about that part,” I told her.

“You said yourself, they would be perfect cover for your persona,” she replied.

“But I’m only going to need the cover for—”

“An extra tenth?” she said, lassoing me with my own words about raglan sleeves.

“Okay. That part’s true. But there’s no guarantee that—”

“There is a risk. They
all
know that; the children, too. But for what you are paying, you will be changing their lives—
giving
them a life, and their families as well.”

Gem wasn’t wrong about the payments. This whole crazy thing was emptying my stash so deep I’d be into my case money by the time it was over.

“Right,” I told her, surrendering. “That’s a pretty good load for that boat, I think. Michelle, you stay here and keep the old man calm. Mole, you know what to do if he gets twitchy. Prof, you and Clarence and Randy stay here, too. Everybody hangs until you get the word. Things work out like we plan, Randy motors the old man back to Key West, where he can try out his recovered virility. If it doesn’t, cut your losses.”

The Prof nodded agreement. The others may not have caught what I meant, but our years together Inside had given us a different level of communication. If they had to get out of there fast, the old man wouldn’t be coming along on the ride.

“T
his thing looks like a prop for a sci-fi movie,” Levi said a few days later, the Mole’s creation cradled in his arms. “What’s this little canister thing?” he asked, touching what would be the clip if the thing were a real firearm.

“A pressure regulator,” the Mole told him. “This is a modified air rifle.”

“Okay, I get it. Hell, they use these things in the Olympics now. Supposed to be unreal for accuracy.”

“It should deliver the … projectile between five and seven hundred yards perfectly,” the Mole assured him.

“That’s no distance,” Levi said. “What am I supposed to hit with it?”

“We don’t know yet,” I told him.

W
hatever the Mole cooked up for me worked better than I’d even hoped for. The boat made me a little sick—okay, maybe a
lot
sick—but I got over it pretty quick. There wasn’t any harm in me going on deck—the old man they’d be watching for wouldn’t do that, but I didn’t look anything like him. Still, I stayed below all through the Canal just in case.