Dragon Moon (30 page)

After she disconnects, she joins Chloe and me at the helm. “Got a description of the man they met at the airport,” she says.

“And?” Chloe asks.

“An old guy.” Claudia looks at the pad. “He arrived at 11:45 on flight 763 from Kingston, traveling by himself, carrying an overnight bag, no other luggage. My man describes him as tall, around mid-sixties, light-skinned but probably black, wearing a really expensive black silk suit.”

“Virgil Claypool,” Chloe says. “We were just in his office the other day. I don't think he'll be too much of a problem for us.”

I nod agreement, say, “What else?”

“They drove back to Grove House and checked him in, then they went to the office. They left there, together, a little while ago. Right now all of them, Peter, Ian, Rita and Claypool have just arrived for an early dinner at Detardo's.”

“It's a steak restaurant,” I say to Chloe. “I used to go there a lot.”

Squinting at the sun, now low enough in the sky to make looking due west painful, I take the final turn of the channel, past Adam's Key, a small island with a half dozen assorted wood homes on it, into Biscayne Bay and tell Claudia to dial her man again. “Tell him to call you when they leave the restaurant. Even if the other Peter decides to come back to Caya DelaSangre after dinner, I think we have plenty of time to visit the island before he does.”

I jam the throttles forward, smile at the surge of power that follows. As we speed up the bay, Chloe points to three towering, red-topped smokestacks showing from across the bay, and to a large hill, almost a mountain she sees to the north of it. “What are those?” she says.

Both man-made structures serve as useful landmarks from the water but they've always struck me as a jarring reminder of what mankind sometimes does to sully the beauty of nature. “The smokestacks are from a nuclear power plant, Turkey Point,” I say. “They call the hill, Mt. Trashmore. It's a city dump.”

Chloe frowns. “They don't belong here.”

I nod, say, “But look at everything else.”

We have the bay to ourselves, the waters so calm that our wake seems to spread out forever behind us. To our left, the sun has begun to sink out of sight, its last rays glinting on the rippled water, the sky and clouds streaked with reddish colors, the mainland darkening. To our right, a string of tranquil, tree-covered, barrier islands — Elliott, Sands and Boca Chita keys — all appear to grow greener in the waning light. Only our motors break the calm of the dying day, their drone filling the quiet air around us. Chloe presses close beside me. “It is beautiful,” she says.

The sun has set by the time we reach Caya DelaSangre. To our west, the city lights of Miami and Coral Gables glow in the sky. The lights of Key Biscayne and Miami Beach illuminate the dark to our north. No lights show from my island, only the dark gloom of land contrasted with the black liquid of the sea.

I grin. “Think I still know the way in?” I say.

“For sure, better than the other Peter,” Claudia says. “He actually managed to miss the channel and sink your boat. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when I saw what he did to it.”

“Something else he'll pay for,” I mutter and turn into the island's channel, barely slowing, taking turns from memory, easing on the throttle just yards before we enter the small harbor.

Only a few barking dogs greet us from the dock. “Where are the rest?” I say.

Claudia shrugs. “They were all here before the other Peter came.”

{
Do you think Derek would have eaten them?
} I mindspeak to Chloe.

{
He's lazy enough.
} My bride frowns. {
My parents always had to remind him to leave our servants alone. He never understood why we hunted when we had so much fresh meat readily available.
}

As soon as we dock and tie up, I turn to Claudia and say, “Stay with the boat. Sound your horn if your man calls to say they're leaving.” Jumping off the SeaRay, I run toward the gate, Chloe following close behind me.

{
Henri!
} I mindspeak. {
Henri!
} I throw the generator switch on, so we'll have lights, take the steps to the veranda two at a time, rush to my room, open the doors. {
Henri!
}

{
Papa?
}

{
I'm on the island, in our house.
} I shout, “Hello!” {
Can you hear me?
}

{
No, Papa.
}

I flick on the lights, dart through the room, barely noticing the mess Derek has left — the crumpled sheets, the piles of dirty clothes — and go through the doors into the interior of the house. I shout again. Chloe calls from behind me. {
Can you hear anything?
}

{
No, I can't.
}

Going around the second-floor landing, I open Henri's doors, then all the others, one at a time, turning on each light, finding nothing. Chloe follows, turning off each light, closing every door as soon as I leave the room. “In case we have to go quickly,” she says.

Running upstairs to the great room, I shout again. {
Anything?
} I say.

{
I'm sorry, Papa.
}

{
There's nothing for you to be sorry for.
}

Chloe helps me throw open each cabinet, search all the cupboards — all to no avail. She closes up behind me again as I run down the spiral staircase to the bottom floor. “Henri, can't you hear me?” I shout. No one answers.

I go from cell to cell, from storeroom to storeroom without finding any sign of my son. I shout again and Chloe shouts in tandem with me. {
Henri?
} I mindspeak.

{
Papa, I didn't hear anything except a bell. I tried, Papa.
}

{
What kind of bell?
}

{
I don't know. Sometimes it rings a lot, loud. Then it stops. Then after a little while, it rings a lot again and then stops for a long time.
}

{
Good, Henri, that's the type of thing you have to notice and tell me about so we can find you.
}

{
Yes, Papa.
}

{
We'll come for you soon.
}

{
Please, Papa.
}

I look at Chloe. “He isn't on the island.”

“I didn't think so,” she says. “He would have heard us.” She walks along with me, her arm in mine, as we climb the stairs, leave the house through my room. I tell her about the ringing sound Henri's noticed. “It's a start,” she says.

Chloe stops on the veranda and I stop with her, standing still while she stares at the house, over the dark island, out to the sea already dotted with boats' lights. “It's beautiful here,” she says. “Peaceful. I know why you love it.”

I nod.

She presses against me and I hold her, both of us looking out to sea, the bright light of Fowey Rocks lighthouse flicking on, then off, repeating every ten seconds, a little more than a mile offshore.

“I like it here,” she says.

The SeaRay's horn sounds and we turn and walk down the veranda's steps, holding hands.

As soon as we're under way, Claudia says, “It looks like Peter and Claypool plan to be spending the night at Grove House.”

“Can you get us a slip at Dinner Key or Monty's?” I say to Claudia. “I want to be close enough to LaMar that we can get there as soon as we know everyone's together.”

“Let me try,” the girl says. She gives me the wheel while she phones.

“Okay,” Chloe says to me, leaning against me. “I have to admit — she is helpful. I guess I'm going to have to learn to like her.”

“Or tolerate her,” I say, grinning.

{
Would you mind if I spoke to Henri?
} she mindspeaks. {
He must feel so alone. He's just a little boy. It can't hurt if he has more than one person to pay attention to him.
}

{
Do you know how to contact him masked?
}

{
No, but you can show me.
}

{
I guess so,
} I say, thinking about how to do it. {
It's really just like thinking on other frequencies, the way you tune a radio. We can try later, after we're docked, when we can concentrate.
}

“Hey, you guys. I got us a great slip,” Claudia says.

We turn and stare at her.

“We're at pier sixteen, right behind city hall. The mayor's window overlooks us.”

I shrug. “Hopefully we won't see him,” I say.

Claudia insists on staying with us. “I want to go with you tomorrow,” she says. “This way you won't have to wait for me. I'll sleep in the Vee berth. Don't worry, I'll be very quiet so I don't bother you two newlyweds.”

Chloe and I go to the stateroom, fold out the bed, close the thin wood, folding doors. We hear no sounds from Claudia, but still, it's hard not to be aware that another person is sleeping just a few yards away. We find ourselves whispering.

Chloe giggles. “Is this what a sleepover is like?”

But in bed, she turns serious. “I want to be able to mindspeak with Henri.”

“Sure,” I say, concentrating on how I mask my thoughts with Chloe, trying to decipher the differences when I mask to Henri. {
I can feel it,
} I mindspeak to Chloe. {
But I don't know how to say it.
}

{
Think it to me,
} she says.

“First let me make sure it's okay with Henri,” I say.

I mindspeak to my son, {
Chloe wants to be able to speak with you, masked, like we do. Is that okay with you?
}

{
I think so, Papa. She's nice.
}

{
I think so too. But if I teach her how to reach you, she'll be able to hear us anytime we mindspeak. Is that okay with you?
}

{
Is it okay with you, Papa?
}

{
Sure.
}

{
It's okay then. Oh, Papa,
} Henri says, {
I heard the bells again, just a little before now. I heard a horn too, before the bells.
}

{
What type of horn?
}

{
A loud one. And a rumbly sound too.
}

Deciphering a five-year-old's descriptions can be a challenge. I smile. {
What's a rumbly sound?
}

{
I don't know. It's loud and shaky, sort of growly.
}

{
Like an animal?
}

{
Papa!
} Henri giggles. {
Like a big machine!
}

Shaking my head, I try to figure out what he's talking about, but I have no idea. {
Mindspeak me the next time you hear any of it,
} I say.

{
Yes, Papa.
}

“Henri says it's okay for me to teach you. He likes you,” I say.

Chloe smiles.

{
This is the way you and I communicate masked,
} I mindspeak, pressing my forehead against Chloe's.

{
Yes?
}

I nudge my thoughts a little toward the way I reach Henri. {
Can you follow this?
}

Chloe frowns. {
It's a little fuzzy. Say more.
}

{
Check, check, testing, check, check . . .
} I repeat, suppressing a smile as I realize I sound like a roadie. I watch my bride's face, the furrows on her forehead as she tries to follow me.

Finally, she smiles. {
Okay, it's clear.
}

Once again I nudge my thoughts, and once again Chloe works to follow. We repeat the procedure, over and over, coming tiny steps closer each time.

Hours pass and I wonder if we'll finish in time to get any sleep. But the next time I ask, {
Can you follow this?
} Henri and Chloe both say, {
Yes!
}

I stretch out on the bed, smile as my new bride and my son chatter away. After Henri's assured Chloe that he's well and that he's been well fed, she asks if he'd like her to tell him a story.

{
Please,
} he says.

Chloe says it's a tale her mum used to tell her, about a dragon warrior and his battle for his own kingdom. I listen to her, just as Henri does, her words turning into a murmur as I close my eyes, not sure whether it's me or my son who drifts off to sleep first.

27

I wake to find Chloe pressed against me, her breath hot on my neck, her arm across my chest, one of her legs thrown across mine. Opening my eyes, I stare at the cabin's ceiling, listen to the rhythm of my bride's breaths, try to match mine with hers. I'm tempted to fall back to sleep but, I know, there's much to do today.

A large boat nearby starts up its motors and the SeaRay vibrates in sympathy with their watery growls. In the bow of the boat, Claudia coughs, her curtain rustles, and I hear the pad of her bare feet as she makes her way to the head. I jostle Chloe gently, kiss her on her forehead, her closed eyelids, her sleepy lips. “It's time to get up,” I say.

She shakes her head and burrows against me. I kiss her more and she says, her eyes still closed, “Okay, okay, I get it.” Chloe stretches beside me. “What time is it?” she says.

Claudia's voice comes to us, through the stateroom's thin wood doors. “It's almost eight.”

Chloe and I look at each other and laugh. “So much for privacy!” I yell out.

A thirty-foot-long boat can feel very crowded when three people all try to get ready at the same time, especially when the boat has one small head. Still, within forty-five minutes, all of us manage to gather at the galley table, fully dressed, Chloe and I wearing linen street clothes we bought at Fastbuck Freddies, even Claudia forgoing her usual boat clothes for business casual attire.

To my delight, Chloe has chosen to wear the necklace I sent her and the matching earrings I gave her on the night of the feast. Claudia examines the four-leaf-clover charm with its inset emerald and the emeralds on each earring. “Wow. They match her eyes,” she says.