Eye for an Eye (31 page)

They reached
the lakefront in just a few minutes, with no sign of her pursuers
yet. Robyn offered her watch to the driver as payment for the trip
but he refused to accept, saying it was the most fun he’d had all
day. She asked him to call the police as soon as he could, and told
him she would be hiding out by the boat till they got there. She
sprinted down the dock towards the Angel Lady, her feet echoing
hollowly on the weathered wooden boards.

The boat was
quiet and still, riding on the oily black water like a pale swan.
No lights showed in the cabin. Robyn hesitated. Had they somehow
got ahead of her? Were they lying in wait? Impossible - nobody
could have beaten her driver the way he’d hurtled through the
streets.

She stepped on
board, feeling the boat heel slightly under her weight. The cabin
was locked, but the catch yielded to persuasion from a long-handled
screwdriver she found in the cockpit locker. She moved quietly down
the stairs into the cabin and listened.

Breathing.

Not hers.

She felt for
the emergency safety light in the rack by the cabin door, and
cracked the tube. A green glow filled the cabin, allowing her to
see Mike sprawled in the bunk in front of her, hands tied, dead to
the world. She hurried to free him, and started slapping his face
to revive him. She shook him but he didn’t stir.

‘Come ON, you
silly bugger, this is no time to sleep. Oh God, why aren’t you
Clark Kent instead of Mike Kent. What are you, his useless younger
brother? Mike! Get with it! The bad guys are coming, wake up.’

She filled a
cup with cold water and poured it over his head but got no response
except a groan. His eyes stayed shut. She opened the fridge and
grabbed a handful of ice cubes which she rammed down his shorts. He
grunted, blinked a few times, and looked around dazedly.

‘Wha...?’

‘Mike, wake up
will you? We’re on Colwyn’s boat, you’ve been drugged, and they’re
on their way here.’

She hauled him
to a sitting position and gave him a cup of water, to drink this
time. Slowly, his faculties seemed to be coming back.

‘Are you with
us yet? Hurry up mate, the fat lady has taken a deep breath and
opened her mouth. It could be all over very shortly unless you
rattle your dags.’

Running feet
sounded on the dock outside. Robyn shoved the safety light under a
seat cushion, returning the cabin to darkness.

The boat heeled
once, then again.

Voices murmured
outside the cabin door. Robyn felt in her pockets for weapons and
prepared to repel boarders.

The cabin door
burst open with a brilliant beam of light that dazzled them. Colwyn
had turned on the cockpit spotlight and aimed it straight into the
cabin. Robyn screwed up her eyes against the glare and hurled a
heavy chunk of marble at the light. It shattered with a satisfying
explosion of glass and a curtain of darkness returned.

There was a
pause.

‘Get in there
Harry. Get them under control,’ Colwyn whispered furiously.

A squat figure
filled the doorway and came forward.

Robyn heard
Mike moving round so she kept still, waiting for her vision to
recover.

As Harry
entered the cabin, Mike leapt on him from beside the door and
wrenched his gun hand around. One shot fired but plunked harmlessly
into the woodwork, the explosion leaving Robyn’s ears ringing.

Robyn saw
Colwyn’s head silhouetted in the doorway, and took careful aim with
a thick rubber band and a heavy staple. Whang!

‘Aarrgh!’
Colwyn clapped both hands to his right eye and stumbled backward,
falling to the floor of the cockpit with a shout of agony.

Robyn pulled
the safety light from under the cushion and saw that Harry was
about to break free. With a whoop she launched herself at his legs
in a perfect rugby tackle, sending him sprawling onto the floor.
From there he was easily subdued, and Mike grinned at her as he
used the same piece of rope he’d been tied with to bind Harry
securely.

Once he was
safely trussed, Robyn climbed up into the cockpit with murder in
her heart. Colwyn was still lying on the floor groaning. His wig
had come off, revealing pale stubble across his scalp.

‘My eye, you
bitch! I’m going to lose this eye!’

‘That’s what
you get for robbing people blind, you evil bastard. See how you
like it.’ Robyn fitted a second staple over the rubber band and
stretched it back. ‘Want to go for two out of two?’

‘No! No! Why
are you doing this to me? What have I done to you?’

‘Let’s see, for
starters there’s attempted murder up at the lake, and I’m sure
you’d have had another go at the studio if you’d had the chance, oh
and just one more little tiny thing... you killed my father, you
lying, cheating, thieving piece of garbage! You stole his money
when he was desperate and spent it on - on THIS!’

She kicked the
side of the cockpit so hard that the fibreglass cracked.

‘He realised
what you’d done and he went up on a cliff and jumped to his death,
just so that we’d get the life insurance and not suffer for YOUR
dishonesty. His body was getting torn apart on the rocks while you
were sitting on your fucking balcony in your fancy fucking
apartment drinking bloody Chardonnay. Well I’m here to tell you
Colwyn Fucking Symons, you don’t get away with it. This is where
you pay, and your time starts NOW!

She threw aside
the rubber band and staple and began kicking him in a desperate
grief-fuelled frenzy until Mike grabbed her arms and pulled her
away.

‘That’s enough,
stop now. You’ve given him a lasting reminder, don’t risk getting
caught doing this.’ He held her close, stroking her hair gently
until she calmed down. ‘You’ve done what you came to do. You’ve
beaten him. Let the law take it from here, OK? It’s over, Robyn.
It’s over.’

She sagged
against him.

The sound of
sirens cut the still night air.

Some months
later, on a warm New Zealand summer evening, Robyn sat on her front
deck checking her email on her laptop. A light breeze fluttered the
leaves of the flax bushes and a few crickets chirped from the
hedge. There wasn’t a peep of sound from the next-door
neighbour.

She saw an
email from Mike and opened it with a smile.

“Dear Robyn,
life has been very quiet since you went back to New Zealand. What
have you been doing down there? I check your local news sites now
and again but haven’t seen your name mentioned so I guess you’re
keeping out of trouble. Or they just haven’t caught you yet.

I hate to have
to tell you this but I’m afraid Colwyn Symons got such a minimal
sentence that he’s out of jail already. He blamed everything on
Harry and got away with a three-month slap on the wrist. He’s
disappeared from the city very smartly. That’ll be a blow to poor
old Harry - he was sure Colwyn would make him his right-hand man
after he took the rap for him in court.”

Robyn felt hot
blood rush to her face and her hands started to shake. Her stomach
tightened so much she thought she was going to throw up. After all
her effort, Colwyn was going to walk free? The loss of one eye and
three months of freedom was not a fair price for the loss of her
father. This was inconceivable! How could she fix this? She read
on, hoping to find a clue to Colwyn’s current location.

“Kate and Allan
send their best wishes. It’s just as well we got Colwyn when we did
because he’d already convinced them to sign the investment
documents. Thanks to you he had no time to complete the transaction
and get their money. Kate said she’s sorry you were made a part of
their deal but she’s still glad she met you.

My current case
is a good one - a guy who has defrauded a high school of its entire
year’s operating budget. Some people are just way too trusting with
their cheque books. He’s gone to ground somewhere in Hawaii so I
get a tropical vacation while I track him down.

Let me know
what you’re up to. I’m sure it’ll be something that gets you into
trouble.

Fond regards,
Mike”

Robyn paused
for a moment then began typing a reply, her teeth clenched and her
fingers clumsy with tension.

“Mike, that’s
terrible – how could that happen? Couldn’t you persuade the court
that Colwyn was guilty? That bloody louse is out and free? Hey, if
you find out where Colwyn is now please let me know, OK? I guess
I’ll have to finish the job myself.”

A week
passed.

Mike’s next
email contained the information that Colwyn Symons was leaving
Canada on an Air New Zealand flight, on November 15th. He was in
possession of a ticket to Wellington flying via Los Angeles. Mike
trusted that Robyn would be sensible about any attempt to make
contact with him. Robyn snorted when she read that part.

Some weeks
later she emailed back to Mike.

“You’ll be
interested to know that Colwyn has made it back here. He was on the
news a couple of days ago, limping through Wellington airport with
a patch over one eye looking very sorry for himself. A bunch of
journalists tried to ask him searching questions about his fraud
charges and he practically burst into tears. Obviously an act to
get their sympathy.

He’s gone to
ground in a secluded holiday home here in the Marlborough Sounds
apparently. Rather silly of him, really, seeing as it’s my
territory. I’ve got plenty of friends who’ll be only too happy to
give me a hand to bring him to justice, so don’t fret about him
getting away from you Canadians. I have a cunning plan so sneaky
that even your friend Henri would be impressed.

By the way, who
was the miserable sod that robbed the school? I want to hear more,
send me details. Once I’m done here, a tropical vacation might be
just what the doctor ordered.

Big hugs,
Robyn”

Sunlight warmed
the sparkling waters of Pelorus Sound, sending rippled patterns
along the sides of the Angel Lady II as she tugged gently at her
anchor.

Colwyn leaned
back in his padded leather captain’s chair, closed his one eye, and
sighed with satisfaction at his forethought in hiding away a few
valuable assets in case of emergency. He’d had a pleasant day’s
cruising around some of the nearby islands and had called in at the
Portage Hotel for a superb lunch. He’d even been given a crate of
fish by some young Maori lads who’d caught more than their
limit.

Later on he’d
poach the blue cod whole in foil, sprinkled with lime juice and a
few herbs, as a first course for his barbecue that night. A
delicate Cloudy Hill riesling would go well with them, followed by
a good meaty Cab Sav to accompany the steak. And once his new
investors had sampled a bottle of Old Coach Lane dessert wine,
they’d be putty in his hands, lambs for the slaughter, ripe for the
plucking. The phrases rolled through his mind, lulling him into a
contented doze as the boat rocked gently on the water.

Once the sun
went down behind bush-clad hills he set a course for home, enjoying
the feeling of the boat’s powerful engines vibrating beneath his
feet. As he neared the private wharf belonging to the holiday home
he was renting, he frowned to see a white launch tied up there.
Several figures stood waiting at the top of the steps. A sick
feeling of dismay spiralled into the pit of his stomach. Then he
straightened his shoulders. There was no reason that anybody should
be looking for him - he hadn’t done anything provably illegal since
he’d arrived back in the country. They were probably just waiting
at the wrong wharf, looking for somebody else.

He pulled
alongside and made his ropes fast, then bounded up the steps and
greeted the men with a smile. ‘Can I help you gentlemen? You look
as if you might be lost.’

‘Good evening
sir. I’m Geoff Johnson, Fisheries Department - my associates Kevin
Walker and Simon Jones. Just a routine inspection, sir. May we take
a look on board your boat please?’

Colwyn laughed.
‘Yes, of course - help yourself! Nothing to hide there. I haven’t
been out fishing today, just cruising around.’ He followed them
back on board via the foredeck, throwing open cupboards and lockers
while trying not to show his relief.

‘This is your
boat, is it sir?’

‘Yes, that’s
right. Bought her a month or so back. Not a bad deal, either.’

‘Has anyone
else been on board during your trip today?’ Geoff Johnson noted
details on a clipboard while the two other men worked their way
towards the cockpit.

‘No, I just
thought I’d take her for a spin down the sound, give the engines a
bit of a run to charge the batteries, that kind of thing. Nothing
that would worry the Fisheries department, I assure you!’

‘Excuse me,
Geoff. You might want to take a look at this.’ Simon Jones called
into the cabin from up on deck.

Colwyn followed
Geoff into the cockpit where the crate of fish was standing on the
deck with Kevin Walker was standing over it holding an
official-looking measuring stick.

‘Can you
explain these fish here, sir? Several of these blue cod are under
the regulation size, and you appear to have more than your daily
allowable quota as well. Simon, could you empty the crate so that
we can get an accurate count please.’

As the crate
spilled out onto the deck, eight small rock lobsters lay amongst
the fish. Colwyn saw Geoff Johnson’s face harden.

‘Measure those,
will you Simon. They are definitely under-sized. And two of them
have spear holes in the shell.’

He turned to
Colwyn. ‘I must warn you that possession of undersized rock
lobsters is an extremely serious offence.’

‘Yes, of
course. But I didn’t catch those – I didn’t even know they were in
the crate! A group of young guys gave me the fish - said they were
over their limit and didn’t want to get in trouble.’ His voice
caught and he cleared his throat. ‘They didn’t want to get in
trouble with you guys so they gave them away. I had no idea the cod
were under-sized, and I would never have accepted the lobsters,
believe me.’ He pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from
his face.