Mortar and Murder (33 page)

“Pssst!”

The summons came from the opposite side of the street. I walked closer and saw Gert gesturing to me from a narrow space between two houses. I could just barely make out Irina behind him.

“Well?”

She nodded. “It’s definitely him.”

“The same guy whose voice you heard in Shaw’s Supermarket last week? The guy who brought you into the U.S. three years ago?” Just making sure . . .

Irina nodded again. “It’s him.”

“So do you think your sister is there somewhere?” Gert looked at her. “In the store? Above, perhaps?”

“More like below,” I said, realizing for the first time what I’d seen earlier. “Listen to this. When I first knocked on the door, I couldn’t see the guy anywhere. So I knocked a few more times, and suddenly he pops up behind the counter. Like he was crouched down or something, you know? And I guess he could have been, except what if there’s a door or something back there, in the floor, that goes down to that room you mentioned?”

“That’s . . .” Irina stopped. Somewhere in the fog we could hear a sound. All three of us held our breaths as we faded farther into the narrow space we were occupying.

The sounds were footsteps. And it sounded like they were coming closer. In fact, it sounded like they were coming straight at us. Dammit, he must have followed me from the store. Far enough behind that I hadn’t heard him.

Except we didn’t see anyone. And then the steps stopped, and we heard a knock. A sort of special knock. First three short taps, then a pause, then two more.

After a moment, a door or window opened. A voice said something; I couldn’t hear what, or who it belonged to. I did recognize the other voice, though. We’d just been discussing it.

“It’s time.”

The other voice said something more, maybe an objection or a query, because Hal the shop owner answered, “Even if someone was around, they couldn’t see nothing. It’s like the inside of a cloud out here.”

The voice inside the house said something else, and then Hal spoke again. “Ten minutes. They’re ready to go. I’ll bring ’em up.”

The door closed again, and the footsteps faded into the fog. We looked at each other.

“Them?” I whispered.

“Up?” Irina added.

Obviously we were all thinking the same thing. That “them” was the Russian women and “up” meant out of the storage room we’d just postulated existed under the floor of the store. Mr. Shopkeeper and his accomplice were planning to move the women under cover of the fog. Either to another location on Rowanberry Island or maybe somewhere else entirely. Maybe to someone like Irina’s Mr. Eagan. And once that happened, we’d never be able to find them.

“We should probably follow him, don’t you think?” I whispered.

Irina nodded.

“What about this guy?” Gert gestured with his thumb toward the house we were skulking beside, the one where the window had opened and the shopkeeper’s accomplice had answered.

“Hal said ten minutes. If we hurry, maybe we can get back to the store and overpower him before his friend shows up.”

Irina was already moving toward the corner of the house and the cobblestoned street.

Gert glanced over his shoulder. “Maybe I should stay here. . . .”

I shook my head. “You’re the one with the gun. We need you. How else are we going to make him give us the girls?”

“What if this guy decides to show up early, though?” He indicated the accomplice in the house beside us.

“That’s why we have to hurry,” I said.

Gert demurred. “I’m not really sure about this. I mean, I’ve been having fun skulking around this winter, playing superspy, but I’m not really very brave, you know. I’m a writer. All my daring is on the page.”

“At least you’re daring somewhere. I’m quaking in my boots right now. But Irina needs us. If we don’t go after her, she’s going to take on the guy on her own. And then he’ll have three of them. Now stop arguing and go.” I gave him a push.

He went. We scurried off down the street, back in the direction of the general store. The lights had been turned off by now, so it was harder to find in the thick fog, but we did make it to where Irina was hugging the wall.

“What now?” Gert whispered. “Doesn’t look like he’s coming out. What do you want to bet he’s waiting for his buddy to show up first?”

Damn. That was a scenario I hadn’t considered, and probably should have.

“I know!” Irina said. “We’ll knock on the door. The same way he did. Three knocks, then two more. The signal. Maybe that’s what he’s waiting for.”

Gert and I looked at each other. Made sense.

“I’ll go,” Gert volunteered.

“I’d be happy to . . .”

He shook his head. “It has to be me. I know he won’t be able to see much with the fog and no lights, but he’ll see my outline, and no offense, but you look nothing like a man.”

No arguing with that. Plus, the guy had just looked at me less than fifteen minutes ago. There was no way he wouldn’t recognize my outline and realize I was back.

“I think it should be me,” Irina said. “She’s my sister.”

We both ignored her, since she was the absolutely last choice of who should go.

“So what if this guy recognizes me?” I argued. “As long as he opens the door?”

“I’m not giving you my gun. And I’m not letting you go over there without one!”

“I don’t want your gun. And you let me go over there without one earlier.”

“That was before we knew for sure that he’s a trafficker and a criminal,” Gert said.

I opened my mouth, but then closed it and looked around instead. “Where’s Irina?”

“What?” Gert looked around, too. Not that we really had to ask; even as we were standing there craning our necks, we could hear the knocks on the general store door. Three, then two.

“Damn!” Gert breathed. He started forward. I followed, just as the door opened.

“What . . . ?” Hal began, before Irina launched herself forward into the store, plowing right over him, voice raised.

“Svetlana!”

“Hell.” Gert fumbled for the gun as he picked up speed. I ran after him.

Hal was only taken aback for a few seconds; as soon as we made it to the door, he had gotten his hands on a gun of his own and was aiming it at Irina, who was tearing into the store, between two aisles of dried goods. I guess maybe the owner was loath to risk shooting any of his merchandise, or maybe he was worried that she’d bleed on his stuff, because he didn’t pull the trigger. Or maybe he simply figured that since she’d stupidly walked into his lair, he’d just close and lock the door behind her and then deal with subduing her. I’m sure that’s what he intended to do when he turned toward the front door. Where he came face-to-face with us.

Or rather with Gert, who had managed to get his own gun out of his pocket and was pointing it straight at the bad guy.

“Put the gun down, please.”

“Mr. Heyerdahl.” Of course Hal didn’t. “She pushed her way in here, did you see that? Just knocked on the door and pushed me aside. I should call the police.”

“Yes, why don’t you do that?” I said, and appeared next to Gert. “In fact, I’ll do it. Just show me phone.”

Hal’s eyes flickered to me for a second, and then back to Gert’s gun. Couldn’t blame him for that. Meanwhile, somewhere inside the store, Irina seemed to have found her sister. We heard squeals and what was either sobbing or laughter. Maybe both.

Hal glanced over his shoulder. Glanced back at Gert’s gun, and then took off. Back into the store toward where the commotion was. He tried to slam the door shut in our faces, but of course it didn’t work. The door coming at us served to slow us down for a vital few seconds, though, as we both took an instinctive step back.

I don’t know what Hal thought he was gonna do, but it was obvious what Gert thought: that Hal would shoot Svetlana and her friend, and Irina as well, before letting them get away. The author burst through the door with a roar, gun at the ready, and tore down the aisle in hot pursuit.

I scurried after, not quite believing that I was running toward a man with a gun. I’d been lucky four months ago—Melissa had gotten shot and I hadn’t—but there were two guns at play here, in the hands of two men who were both probably pretty desperate—one to avoid going to jail for a long time, the other to prevent the slaughter of a woman I was beginning to think he’d rather come to like a lot—and so the chances for getting caught in the crossfire were doubled. And yet there I was, hurrying behind Gert.

Hal must have been in the process of moving the girls out of the storage room when Irina knocked, because we found them all just in front of the counter. The girls were dressed to travel, in jeans and jackets, their eyes dilated almost black. Some kind of date-rape drug, maybe; something to make them docile and cooperative. It wouldn’t do to have them belligerent and wanting to get away while they were transported, maybe even by boat, somewhere else. And they were handcuffed together, probably so that one of them couldn’t try to escape without the other. It would be impossible for them to swim, and they’d have to, to get off the island. Svetlana, at least, understood some of what was going on and had recognized her sister. Although her face was totally impassive, there were tears leaking from her eyes, running down her cheeks, and she was clinging to Irina, who clung right back. The two of them really did look very much alike, in spite of the ten-year age difference. Both tall and angular, with long dark hair, broad Slavic faces, and high cheekbones. The other young woman, attached to Svetlana’s other side, was shorter, with light, mousy brown hair and the biggest breasts I’d ever seen. At least in real life. No mystery why the bad guys had chosen her from among the available Russian brides.

Gert rocked to a stop at the end of the nearest aisle. I skidded into place next to him.

“Drop the gun,” Hal snarled. He had reached Irina’s other side and was holding her by the upper arm and pointing his gun at the side of her head. “Drop it, or I’ll blow her away right now!”

Gert hesitated. He had a clear shot, there was nothing to stop him from pumping a bullet straight into Hal’s heart, assuming his aim was good enough.... The problem was that Hal’s finger might tighten on the trigger if he got hit, and although Hal would be dead, Irina would be, too. And that would be bad.

I glanced to my right, at the line of snow globes on the shelf. If the criminals had used one to kill ICE agent Trent, maybe I could use one to bash Hal over the head. I’d have to get closer, though. I took a step back to see if maybe I could sneak out of sight and come back around the other way, but his eyes flickered to me. “Don’t move!”

I stopped. “So what happens now? We stand here and wait for your buddy to arrive?”

He blinked.

“I mean, unless you’re planning to shoot all of us, it’s not like you’re gonna get away with this.”

“Don’t give him any ideas, Avery,” Gert said, eyes and hands steady.

“I wasn’t. I was just saying how, if all three of us turn up dead, someone’s gonna notice. It’s not like Wayne and Derek won’t put it together. They know about the trafficking.”

Gert nodded. And then we stood in silence while a few more seconds ticked by. Any moment now, Hal’s accomplice would arrive. Through the door we’d considerately left unlocked when we burst through earlier. And we’d be sunk.

The others must be thinking the same thing, because I saw something move in Irina’s eyes. There was no time to interfere, and to be honest, I’m not sure I would have even if I’d realized what she planned to do. Something had to happen, someone had to do something, and Irina had obviously decided it was up to her. I guess maybe she thought if she had to sacrifice herself for her sister, then that would be all right.

At any rate, she looked at Gert for a second, whether to try to communicate something or maybe just to take one last look before going to her death, I’m not sure. And then she threw herself sideways, away from the man with the gun, starting a domino effect as she knocked over first Svetlana, and then Svetlana’s friend. They landed in a heap on the floor. Hal’s finger did tighten on the trigger of the gun, but the bullet flew over their heads and hit a dusty can of chicken broth on a shelf against the opposite wall. The can started pouring broth through a perfectly round hole in the side. Meanwhile, Gert hurled himself forward and slammed into the bad guy, knocking him to the floor.

“Run!” he yelled.

I didn’t need to be told twice. I started forward, giving the two men a wide berth, and grabbed Irina. She’s a half foot taller than me, but somehow I managed to haul her to her feet. It must be true about fear giving people supernatural strength. Between us, we managed to sort out Svetlana and her friend and get them both upright, and then we all tumbled toward the front of the store.

“Gert . . .” Irina protested as I pushed her.

“He’s fine. Go.”

Of course, he wasn’t fine. He was rolling around on the floor while Hal did his best to beat the crap out of him. Both of their guns had gone flying, and I thought for a second about running back and scooping one of them off the floor to take with us. It might come in handy as we tried to make our getaway. Then again, unless I was willing to use it—and I wasn’t sure I could shoot someone in cold blood, even in self-defense—it would be time better spent running like hell. I ran like hell.