Site Unseen (35 page)

"I took the artifacts from Miss Westlake's house and hid them under Tichnor's bed, just to reroute suspicion back to the true source of the trouble. Though, again, I might have been a trifle overenthusiastic when I put the Venus figurine in with the other goodies. I knew I had to resist taking any of her fabulous objects, but I couldn't stand to see that precious
thing burn; I hoped it would be overlooked. I've mentioned my hopeless streak of sentimentalism--something I must correct in the future. Do you know, I'd never seen a Venus before?"

The memory of the little clay figure brought to mind that day in Sheriff Stannard's office--what I wouldn't give to be there right now! I knew I had to stall for more time. "What about that burned doll?" I asked. "What had I found that drove you to send that?"

Tony looked puzzled, then his face cleared. "Oh my, you can't believe that I would have done something as tacky as that, could you?" He clucked and shook his head at my foolish assumption. "No, that was Rick Crabtree's idea, I think, to spook you into some spontaneous confession. He warned me that I should keep an eye on you for signs of guilt, the idiot."

Abruptly Markham changed the subject. "Take off your jacket, my dear. Unbutton your shirt. Now, please."

I gasped and clutched at the collar of my slicker. "Tony, you can't--"

Tony rolled his eyes in exasperation and I knew that I'd made a dangerous mistake.

"I may be a man with a well-defined sense of the expedient," he admonished, "but I'm hardly a rapist. Charming as I have previously confessed to find you, I have just admitted in plain language to the murder of one man and to the commission of several other crimes. I am merely determining whether you have come prepared with a wire."

I couldn't afford to assume that he would have any predictable reactions, I couldn't afford such a banal response, not when Tony was so clearly looking for a different sort of thrill. Show a little steel, Emma--he asked politely! This is just business, no prurient interest in the world! I swallowed thickly and did what he asked, as calmly as I could with my knees knocking.

"Damn it, Tony, I never even thought of that!"

He shrugged a little
and shook his head in commisera
tion--my shortsightedness would be our little secret. It shocked me to realize that, even now, Tony was as considerate as ever.

I held his eye as I unbuttoned my shirt and showed him that I had no wire, trying not to think about what I was doing. Then I made a point of taking my time straightening my clothing, though that wasn't difficult with my frozen, fear-trembling fingers.

I'd guessed right, though; he waited patiently for me to finish. That deeply ingrained sense of Southern civility would only approve of a woman who took trouble over her appearance. I'd have to remember to appeal to his sensibilities, not let him see how afraid I really was, how I was dying every second Sheriff Stannard didn't show up.

"Thank you, Emma." Tony checked his watch again, looked at me, and seemed to be deciding something. "Now, put on your jacket, don't dawdle, but button it up tightly-- it's very wet outside. We--"

That "we" elated me, and my heart soared. I knew I'd just bought myself another couple of minutes, possibly an opportunity to escape.

"--need to go outside to see how friend Griggs is getting along. He can dive well enough when he isn't reeling drunk, but personally I don't trust him to leave prudently before the storm worsens," Markham confided. "All ready? Let's go. And Emma?"

I looked up, carefully masking the increasing jumpiness I felt: I needed to be ready for anything. My muscles were no longer numb, they were stretched taut, ready for some sudden burst of activity. I only hoped I could live up to my instincts. "Yes, Tony?"

"Stay near," he warned, as abruptly he yanked me close and jammed his pistol painfully against my side. "It's treacherous out there."

We slogged out into the storm. The wind had picked up considerably, and so had the whitecaps. Now it was only just possible to keep the little motorboat in view. We skidded
through the mud near the pines, like a pair of contestants in a three-legged race. I was in a torment, trying to seem only as though I was trying to keep my balance, trying to gauge when to attempt to make a break for it. I was freezing, and I had to work hard to keep from thinking about just sitting down and crying in fear and frustration. Now of all times, I couldn't afford to think; I had to stay wired.

Billy spied us and waved; Tony signaled to him to return to shore. My dread increased with every step toward the bluff, and once, before I could stop myself, I stopped and tried to resist going down toward the cobble beach.

"You don't want to be like that, Emma," Tony warned sharply. I felt the gun jab again, reminding me that there was only thin cloth, slender bones, and a bit of muscle between a bullet and my heart.

I got control of myself only with effort, and we awkwardly threaded our way down the old stairs to meet him. The crumbling concrete was slick with rain and mud, the railing long gone. At first I refused to think how these hateful people were moving so casually around this place that was so much of my life. And then I realized that I needed that hate, that anger, more than I'd ever needed anything in my life.

It took Billy a long while to fight the waves and reach the cobbled shore. I watched, praying that a wave would knock him into the river and wash him out to sea. It took him forever, but with Tony's arm around my waist like an iron clamp, there was no chance to do anything but watch and wait in icy torment.

Billy hopped out of the boat on the side closest to us, no more than twenty feet away, and tried to haul the boat the rest of the way up onto the beach. As he struggled in the relentless wind and rain, Billy bellowed angrily, "Give me a hand with this, you lazy old fuck!"

Griggs was clearly spoiling for a fight; Tony looked far too dry and rested to suit him--hell, I knew he was too calm for my liking--and he had to be riding as huge an adrenaline crest as I was.

"I can't, I have to watch her!" Markham roared back. "Just pull the boat up as high as you can, and make sure everything is offloaded."

"I'm not going out there again!" Billy screamed as he heaved the anchor out onto the cobbles above the high-water line. He dumped the diving gear on the beach, then, straining a little, set a heavy bag next to it. "Let's get out of here!"

"Right," Markham shouted. Then he murmured into my ear, his breath warm, "Time to go, Billy-boy."

The pistol that had been boring into my side swung away just long enough to pump three slugs into Billy's chest. Blood and neoprene spattered across the bow of the boat and on the beach cobbles below, only to be washed away almost immediately by the driving rain, first leaving dark rivulets, then suddenly, nothing. Instinctively I turned away in horror but was left with an indelible image of what remained behind on the cobbles, what the rain couldn't wash away.

The shock that registered on Billy's face was only at being outthought; as he clutched dumbly at himself, he dropped the pistol he had concealed in the boat with the obvious intention of double-crossing Markham.

Until that point I don't think I really, truly understood what could happen. In spite of the fact that I'd tried to prepare myself for anything, I simply hadn't believed what I was involved in. The violence I'd just witnessed was so quick, so final, that I was stunned by it.

"All that cheap booze was bound to dull the reflexes, Billy," Tony clucked.

It was only then that it truly hit home for me: Tony Markham was out of his mind.

He turned to me, raising his voice to be better heard. "Now, Dr. Fielding, if you wouldn't mind picking up that bag, I believe we'll just leave Mr. Griggs to nature. We need to get to shelter, as the tide is coming in unusually high and we have a few details to discuss. The sack, if you'd be so kind."

Shaking, I picked up the bag, not because I was that eager to get close to Billy, dead or not, but because of the gun that was pointing at me. Markham retrieved Billy's weapon. He paused to nudge Billy Griggs with his toe and Billy slumped over, his face smacking sickeningly against the stones. The tide was just beginning to lap at the feet of the newly made corpse.

Chapter 27

I FELT MYSELF GROW QUITE CALM. MY VIOLENT TREMBLING stopped. With surreal detachment I had watched Markham stand next to me and murder Billy Griggs. I coolly realized that whatever opportunity I had of escaping while the other two bickered had evaporated too quickly for me to exploit. I would die in the storm near the ruins of Greycliff, far away from Brian.

The inevitability of death cleared my mind, which seemed to speed up in relation to my surroundings. With universal comprehension, I observed the progress of the storm, Tony's heightened color as he climbed back up the slippery stairs next to me, and the gun that never left my side. I understood precisely how they all interrelated, what actions would beget which reactions.

Unfortunately with this comprehension came a resignation and a disconnection from my own body that made survival seem very unlikely. The instinct for self-preservation had fled, and I was operating on pure intellectual energy rather than by instinct, which might have saved me.

With this detachment, I struggled up the lawn through
the hammering rain, awkwardly lugging the potato sack-sized bag partially filled with gold. Tony led me back to the old barn, and dutifully I remarked that the rain was now driving horizontally through the spaces in the barn's walls, not improving my shivering, drenched state.

Markham switched on a powerful lantern flashlight and set it on an overturned bucket. "No need to fumble in the dark and wet. You showed some genuine sangfroid down there, my dear, most exemplary. Now what
are
we going to do?"

I dumped the bag down. With difficulty, I found my larynx and tried to recall how to make that organ shape meaningful aural symbols. "I presume you are going to shoot me, though it escapes me why you didn't just do it down on the beach with Billy." I was pleased my preternatural calm hadn't robbed me of words: I knew I was going to die and I didn't want to gibber.

Tony shook his head despairingly. "How unimaginative of you." He considered the matter for a moment. "At this point you are the only one who has any inkling that I am connected with anyone's death. Or any dubious treasure hunting, for that matter. If you choose not to say anything, no one will ever know a thing. Why not fall in with me? Take half of the wreck treasure as an earnest."

I wasn't certain whether he was toying with me or not. There was only the hope that I could parlay this into a chance to get away. The thing was to keep his attention.

"I don't think I believe you."

Tony nodded. "Fair enough. But there's no reason to disbelieve me--why would I offer otherwise? It would save me further . .. trouble if you'd agree." He paused, then added meaningfully. "You can have everything you ever wanted. All for the price of saying nothing about my hand in the demise of two people who have caused incalculable grief in your life."

For a split second I actually saw the logic in what he was saying; he seemed to understand so well what I was going
through. I still said nothing, waiting for Tony to give me a hint as to his real intentions.

"All you need is the imagination to see beyond your dull little life and take what you really want. It's all about power, Emma." Tony looked me in the eye. "I wanted it once myself until I got it, and realized how meaningless it all was. Even the control you get over people, letting them know that their futures are in your hands, and watching them agonize as they decide whether to sell their souls to you, pales after a while. It gets boring."

I tried to look indecisive, but probably didn't manage it. "I don't know . .."

"I can see your future and I can tell you how very unsatisfying it really is," he insisted. "When you finally get to the top, you're all alone, and power's no fun unless you're constantly trying to defend it. And the ivory tower is simply too small a battlefield. I saw that and realized even if I waited for Keller-man to finally retire, I'd have nothing. I could entomb myself in boredom or I could take an opportunity that fate offered."

I couldn't think clearly: Would he believe me if I said yes? He knows me too well. Back in the bar, hell, back in the storage room, I might have bought every word.

"Why toil in obscurity when it won't be what you want in the end?" he asked reasonably. "Learn from my mistakes. Let me save you the effort of finding out for yourself."

There was an honesty to his words that I found intriguing, but the idea was ludicrous. And finally I was too tired to play along; the words were out before I could reconsider. "Sorry, I can't." I shrugged helplessly, watching the gun.

"Of course. You wouldn't want anything you didn't earn yourself." Tony seemed to be talking to himself or the damp, musty air in the barn.

Something about his tone pushed me past prudence. "I don't want anything from you Tony!" I snapped. "I don't need your help."

"No, you don't need help from anyone, do you?" Tony conceded reluctantly, then changed the topic. "You know,
long ago, when we went out for our little drink, I was surprised to learn that you could believe that no one would know about the family connection between you and Oscar Fielding. I'm sure I couldn't produce anyone who hadn't heard of his work."