Hooper, Kay - [Hagen 09] (15 page)

Instead, Jennifer concentrated on speed until she caught
a glimpse of Kelly ahead of her, then settled down to match his pace
and be quiet about it. There was no path through these woods, at
least none to speak of, but she saw evidence that Kelly had gone this
way more than once in the past. She felt a surge of excitement,
increasingly certain that she was right. And she was so conscious of
the prey ahead of her, that she never noticed the silent hunter
behind her.

The ground beneath her feet became softer and wetter
as they neared the swamp, the towering oak trees thinning out and
gradually becoming the cypress trees common in such an area. It
became more difficult to keep close to Kelly, and Jennifer was forced
to drop back in order to hide her own presence as the concealing
underbrush of the forest gave way and the rich, ripe smell of
wetlands closed around her.

She glanced up once to find the sky leaden, conscious
of increasing heat, of stillness. Definitely a storm, and probably a
big one. She realized only then that Kelly was unlikely to have run
an electric line out here. Did he have a generator? Was his press
electric? And why, she wondered suddenly, had Dane found In the safe
only one of the necessary two plates?

Some part of her mind turning those questions over, she
followed Kelly cautiously, skirting the edge of the swamp where it
was almost literally impassible, where murky water ringed tall
cypress trees and rotting stumps alike. Broken-off trees reared up
like jagged wooden teeth, and limbs floated idly on the still water.

Jennifer hardly noticed the eerie landscape, too Intent
on her quarry. She followed him to an old shack on the far edge of
the swamp, watched him enter the ramshackle building. After an
instant's hesitation, she crept closer, as silent as possible, until
she could crouch below a boarded-up window at the side of the house.

Hearing another man's voice, she managed a quick look
between the boards, surprised to realize that the other man had been
living in the shack, and for some time it appeared. She could barely
see a narrow cot, a shelf with foodstuffs, a small table.

And an old printing press.

Elated, Jennifer pressed her ear close to the wood and
listened, determined to find out all she could. For the first fifteen
minutes or so, she heard only the low murmur of voices,
indistinguishable, droning on. It was impossible to catch more than a
word here and there. Then the voices rose in anger, and she heard
very clearly what was going on.

"So it's all right when you need money," the
stranger was saying bitterly.

"Listen to me," Kelly told him in a hard
voice. "If you hadn't gone crazy and spent thousands right here
in the area, we wouldn't have had to lie low for a while at all. I've
told you, we'll be back in business in a few weeks, once we're sure
they can't trace those bills back to us."

"And what about this? You want me to print out half
a million so you can play poker with some cardsharp!"

"I gave him a note, don't you get it? The only way
I can redeem it is with phony bills."

"Oh, hell, why don't you just tell him you don't
have the money? Let him sue you for it."

"Fool." Kelly paused, obviously gathering the
threads of his patience. "He's a professional gambler, Alan, and
men like that don't go to court to collect poker debts."

"Afraid of a busted kneecap?" Alan sneered.

Kelly ignored the question and the sneer. "I have
to redeem that note. And Prescott has three quarters of a million to
lose."

"He hasn't lost yet," Alan reminded bitterly.

"He will. Tonight. I mean to beat him."

"And what if you don't? What if he walks away from
the table with half a million in phony money? We'll have the feds
down on us so fast – "

"Don't be stupid. He's going back to Florida after
this last game. Besides, money passes through his hands so quickly
that even if he found out it was phony he'd never know where it came
from. We're covered even if I lose. But I won't."

Alan was silent for a moment, then said flatly, "You'd
better win from the first hand then, because you won't have half a
million to play with."

"What?"

"You heard me. We suspended operations, remember?
I have just enough paper here to print about a hundred and fifty
grand. And our paper supplier's in Baton Rouge."

"Damn," Kelly said softly and bitterly.

"Still think you can beat him?" Alan jeered.

"Just print the money. How long?"

"With or without serial numbers?"

"How long, dammit?"

"A few hours."

"I'll come back then."

"Listen," Alan said suddenly, "are you
sure that cousin of yours won't tip the feds? You said he had the
plate."

"He won't turn me in." Dryly, Kelly added, "He
may try to blackmail me later, but we'll deal with that if and when
it happens."

Alan grunted.

Jennifer heard the sudden creak of the door being
opened, and flattened herself against the shack to avoid being seen.
Kelly would turn in the opposite direction when he left, she knew,
which meant he wouldn't see her –

Then, her mind fixed on Kelly, she abruptly felt more
than heard another presence, and before she could move, a hand was
clamped firmly over her mouth.

* * *

Dane had managed to sleep a couple of hours, and awoke
feeling far more rested than he'd expected. He showered and shaved,
and was about to start making calls to find someone who knew a bit
about presses when the phone rang.

It was Skye, calling from the phone he always insisted
on in a rental car.

"Better get out here," he said without
preamble. "Our man just struck off through the woods with a bag,
and Jennifer's trailing behind him."

"Damn!"

"I said something stronger than that," Skye
told him. "She's being cautious, so it may be all right. I'll
keep them both in sight, but according to maps of the area, they're
headed into a swamp."

Dane looked at his watch, thinking rapidly. "It'll
take me about fifteen minutes to get there."

Skye didn't question the optimistic estimate; he knew
how fast Dane drove. "Come in from the southwest," he said.
"Assuming they've reached their destination by then, I'll meet
you about halfway along that old track from the main road to the
house. If I'm not there, head east to the swamp."

"On my way," Dane said. He wasted no time on
the drive, settling the Ferrarl into its highest gear and hurtling
around curves in a way that made the tires whine. Fifteen minutes
after leaving his hotel, he was parked on Belle Retour land, out of
the car, and heading through the woods.

Both partners had a strong sense of direction, and
neither was surprised when they encountered each other near the edge
of the swamp. Skye had been moving back away from the swamp and
toward the track, but halted and waited for Dane to reach him.

"Where is she?" Dane asked immediately,
keeping his voice low with an effort.

"Calm down, she's fine," Skye told him. "Kelly
went into a shack on the other side of the swamp, and she's settled
down right next to it, listening. Someone's been living in the shack,
by the way, one man."

"That may explain why Kelly has only one plate,"
Dane said absently as they began working their way cautiously toward
the swamp. "If he has a partner, each of them could hold one
plate until they print."

"To make sure nobody gets too greedy," Skye
mused. "It figures. Crooks do tend to think that way."

Thunder rumbled suddenly, and Dane glanced up at the
sky, frowning. "A storm. That's all we need."

His partner didn't comment, but led the way around the
edge of the swamp until they were in a position to see the shack
clearly, and Jennifer's still form crouched beneath a boarded-up
window.

"She's too close," Dane muttered.

"Not unless she makes a noise."

Dane shook his head. "I won't take the chance.
Look, you stick with Kelly if he leaves before I get Jenny out of
here."

"What about the press?"

"If Kelly leaves, follow him. I doubt he'll bolt,
but we don't need to take chances now. I’ll take care of the
press if I can. If it comes down to a choice between disabling the
press or getting Jenny safely out of here, to hell with the press."

Skye nodded, but said flatly, "Don't risk your skin
to get at the press."

Dane left his partner's side, moving cautiously and
trying to keep under cover as long as possible. Still, he was forced
to cross a good twenty feet of open area in order to get to Jennifer,
and he was halfway across that when the shack's door began to creak
open. He covered the last ten feet with a speed that would have
surprised him if he'd been conscious of it, and clamped a hand firmly
over Jennifer's mouth just as Kelly stepped out of the shack and
shoved the door closed behind him.

She stiffened against him for a brief moment, then
relaxed suddenly, but Dane didn't release her until he was sure Kelly
was well on his way back to the house.

"Fancy meeting you here," Jennifer said in a
breathless whisper.

Dane hugged her wordlessly for a moment, grateful that
she would emerge from this unharmed. From the moment he had heard
Kelly had a partner, he had known that there must Indeed be a
counterfeit operation of some scope, and that meant Kelly and
his partner would have a great deal to lose. Men in such
positions tended to protect their interests, often with violence.

Jennifer could have gotten herself killed. He waited
until sounds from inside the shack indicated the occupant was
busy and less apt to hear them, then caught Jennifer's hand and drew
her back across the clearing and into the partial cover of a trio of
cypress trees.

"What the hell are you doing, Jenny?" he
muttered. She kept her voice low as well. "I suddenly realized
where the press had to be, so I followed him to make sure. There was
nobody else – "

"Skye was watching him, Jenny. My partner."

"I didn't see him."

"You weren't supposed to," Dane told her
dryly.

She smiled reluctantly. "I didn't think of that.
I'm sorry, Dane. But it's all right after all. And the press is in
there. I saw it."

He glanced toward the shack, frowning. "I need to
get in," he said half to himself.

Jennifer held on to his hand tightly. "You can't.
It's too dangerous. There's another man, and he didn't sound very
nice."

Dane hesitated, still frowning. "Could you tell if
it was an electric press?"

"Manual. An old one."

"Damn. And I'll bet Kelly told his partner to print
out anything up to a million bucks."

Jennifer wasn't sure why it mattered, but she was glad
her reckless action was providing information Dane would find useful.
"That's what he wanted, but the other man – Kelly called
him Alan – told him there wasn't enough paper for that much. He
said he could print only a hundred and fifty thousand."

Some of Dane's tension eased, and he sent a mental
thanks to Lady Luck. "Good. Now, come on. I'm getting you out of
here."

"Wait." Jennifer's attention had been caught
by a flicker of movement between them and their path back toward the
house, and she looked in that direction now. "We can't go back
the same way. Look over there."

He followed her gaze to their left, his eyes narrowing
on a ten-foot-long grayish shape that had crawled from the water and
onto a hummock of damp earth. It was an alligator, and it didn't look
at if it had any intention of moving in the near future. And it was
perched on the only patch of reasonably dry land in that direction,
with murky water all around.

"He probably wouldn't attack us," Jennifer
said slowly. "They don't usually bother people. But ..."

"But," Dane agreed dryly. He looked back over
his shoulder at the thickening woods behind them. "How about
that way?"

She was shaking her head. "This swamp is fed by an
offshoot of the Calcasieu River. If we go that way, we'll have to
cross it, and after all the rain we've had lately, we'd have to
circle all the way back to the main road to find a safe way across."

Dane looked to his right, studying the eerie landscape
of the swamp. "Can we circle the swamp that way?"

"It'll take more than an hour to work our way
around," she told him. "But it passable and safer."

He looked at her with a smile. "I gather you know
this godforsaken place like the back of your hand?"

"I practically grew up here," she said,
returning his smile. "We used to play games in the swamp."

He shook his head a little, but said, "You lead the
way, then."

Holding his hand, Jennifer led the way, taking them
toward the east and working her way carefully along a path she
remembered from childhood. The swamp had changed since then, of
course, and she found herself forced to search for alternate paths
from time to time because a fallen tree that had once been a bridge
had rotted and collapsed into the water, or because a remembered
hummock was now beneath the surface.

She led them without flinching past a second alligator,
and paused once as a water moccasin slithered by no more than two
feet away. Dane, watching her, was fascinated by her composure. He
knew that there was no particular virtue in accepting what was
familiar – and this swamp was definitely familiar to Jennifer.
Still, the recklessness of youth almost always gave way to the
cautious awareness of adulthood, and more than one childish bravery
became a fear in later years.

But not with Jennifer. She had true courage, he thought,
the kind of courage that was instinctive and unaware, that accepted
small dangers and large ones without thought. He had known that
already, though. She loved him – and how much courage had been
demanded of her to take that risk?