Whistler's Angel (56 page)

Or words to that effect. Something melodramatic. But that sort of confrontation was out of the question. You don’t warn a man like Lockwood. You don’t let him know what’s coming. Best to smile, say, “Hi, Vern,” and then shoot him.

Young Robert, it developes, detests Lockwood as well. It seems that Lockwood once tried to intimidate Robert in the same way he’d tried to intimidate Whistler. Robert, who is even bigger than Lockwood, might have given a good account of himself had his boss, Mr. Poole, not told him to ‘forbear.’ Poole counseled him to turn the other cheek…which he did…so Lockwood,
predictably, then slapped him. Well, we’ll see, thought Aubrey, who gets slapped this time around. We seem to be left with Plan B. We wait.

“We’re here earlier than Kaplan expected us,” he said. “But that’s good. They’re still out. Kaplan’s keeping them busy.”

Briggs scanned the street. He said, “We don’t know how long. We better get inside while we can.”

“You’re quite right. Robert? Take us up to the driveway. The garage should be unlocked. Briggs and I will go in. You will then leave this car on one of the side streets, but not one that Mr. Kaplan is likely to use.”

Robert’s feelings seemed hurt. “I’d have thought of that, sir.”

“Forgive me,” said Aubrey. “I know that, of course. It’s just that so much has gone contrary to instructions, I find myself micro-managing. I’m sorry.”

“I understand perfectly, sir.”

“When you walk back…excuse me. How
will
you come back?”

“I won’t walk up the street. I’ll come around through the woods in the back of that house. If you will unlock the back door for me, sir…”

“That is where Mr. Briggs and I will wait for you, Robert. We’ll try not to start the party without you.”

Whistler, after breaking the connection with Moore, took Olivia’s small
caliber pistol from his belt, checked the barrel and chambered a round. He slipped into his jacket. He put the cell phone in his pocket. He said to Claudia, “It was Lockwood, no question. Remind me not to doubt you again.”

She said, “Let’s go help them find Leslie.”

“We’ll do what we can. Let me think for a minute.”

“While you’re thinking, they could be killing her, Adam.”

“You want us to do what? Drive around? Look for their car? That’s why I didn’t tell Moore that we know Vernon Lockwood. That’s exactly what Moore would have us doing with him.”

“Wouldn’t that be better than standing here talking?”

No, it wouldn’t, thought Whistler, because if they found Lockwood, he wouldn’t be able to kill him on sight. Not with the sergeant looking on.

He said, “Let’s try to figure out what we’re up against first. The third man, the driver…we’ve seen him before. He was there last night when the shooting took place. I’ve noticed him several times before that.”

She remembered. She asked, “The far side of the bar?”

“Facing us, his back to the door.”

Whistler grimaced as he realized that he should have known. The striped jacket, he told Claudia, was the only person there who hadn’t ducked for cover when it started. He’d seen it all. The best seat in the house. Whistler had to shout for him to get down when Crow drove up outside and raised his shotgun. Whistler should have wondered why he’d seemed so detached. No fear. Fascination. Didn’t want to miss a thing.

She asked, “Could he have been a lookout for Crow?”

“No. Too surprised. He didn’t expect it. He was there watching us and now we know he’s with Lockwood. This means that Lockwood must have known for some time that you and I are back in this country.”

He must have, thought Whistler, but how? The answer to that was any number of ways. The most efficient of those would have been electronic. That double signal. That must have been it. His father had said that he was getting an echo. Since when? Since Antigua? No, before that. Martinique.

Whistler said, “There’s a tracker somewhere on this boat. They’ve known where we are for two months at least.”

She did not seem alarmed. She said, “And yet nothing’s happened.”

“You call all this nothing?”

“No, I mean that we’ve been here for more than three weeks. If they wanted you, Adam, they had every chance. Yet until last night, nothing happened.”

“What’s changed,” he said, “is Crow. Them tying in with Crow. I just can’t imagine why they’d do that. Or how.”

“But they did. What’s the simplest answer to how?”

He stared for a moment. “They already knew him. They had to have known
w
here he’d be…how to find him.”

“Of course. And therefore? Who put them together?”

“You…want me to say Aubrey. This does not sound like Aubrey.”

“But Crow is a lunatic. A religious fanatic. What does that suggest to you, Adam?”

He nodded. “You’re right. That would point to Stanton Poole.”

“Okay, what’s the simplest answer to why?”

“To silence Ragland. But that’s where you lose me. Aubrey wouldn’t have touched this and Lockwood works for Aubrey. Lockwood doesn’t take orders from Poole.”

You’re assuming that Lockwood wouldn’t act without orders. And if, as you say, there’s a tracker on this boat, why would Lockwood feel the need to come aboard?”

Good question, he thought. To plant a listening device? Or, just as likely, some other device. Whistler felt the hairs on his neck begin to rise. He remembered Moore saying that Crow had used bombs. Remote control, maybe?
Lockwood’s thumb on the button?

He stepped closer to Claudia, his lips to her ear. He whispered, “Don’t touch anything. Climb back up the steps.”

Her eyes widened. She understood and obeyed. Without a word, she went first. She reached the cockpit where she waited for him. She pointed to some marks on the fiberglass deck. They were scuff marks. From street shoes. Whistler saw them and nodded. They had to be Lockwood’s. She stepped over the rail and onto the dock. She pointed to another set of marks that she’d found. Spike marks. Those golf shoes. Crow had been there as well. They followed the spike marks all the way up the ramp. They were safely away from the boat.

Whistler saw Moore’s patrol car. Another had joined it. Moore was standing at the door of his car, speaking into his radio; his back was turned toward them. Another deputy was talking to a small knot of people. Must be those who had witnessed the abduction. A few others had gathered and they stood on the fringes. Whistler saw two men among them who looked vaguely familiar. A big man and a smaller one, both middle aged. The big one had the build of a wrestler. They reminded him of…never mind…it couldn’t be. He took Claudia’s arm and steered her toward the steps that led off into the warren of restaurants and shops.

She asked, “Why this way? Are we ducking the sergeant?”

“If we don’t, he’s going hold us. Let’s try to get to the car.”

“What then?”

He said, “Claudia, I need you to do something for me. If we can get to Jump & Phil’s, I’m going to drop you off there. Wait there for me. Stay by the phone.”

“While you’re doing what?”

“While I try to find Leslie.”

“By yourself? How would you even know where to start?”

“I…know how Lockwood thinks. That might help me.”

She looked into his eyes. She saw that they’d turned cold. She asked, “Is it Leslie you’re thinking about?”

“She’ll be with them if I find them. And you said it yourself. I won’t find them standing here talking.”

“I’m going with you, Adam. You go nowhere without me.”

“Look, this morning…when you said that you’re in my world more than ever, I didn’t correct you. But you’re not. You never will be.”

She said, “Adam, that’s not your decision to make.”

“Yeah, it is. And I’ve just made it. You will wait at Jump & Phil’s. I don’t want you with me on this one.”

Arnold Kaplan had almost reached North Forest Beach when he heard the
the description of their car on the scanner. Green Pontiac, three men, one young woman, partial plate. At least one of the occupants may be armed.

He said to Lockwood, “Few more blocks. We’re almost there.”

Another bulletin came on, this one much more detailed. It identified the victim of the “probable abduction.” It gave her full name, Leslie Stewart. It described the two men who’d forced her into the car and the clothing that was worn by the driver. It said that one of them might be Joshua Crow, the man wanted for the shooting of Ragland. It further identified Miss Stewart, the victim, as a bartender at Jump & Phil’s. It said that as such, on the previous evening, she had witnessed the shootings in that restaurant. She might have recognized Crow before he made his escape. She might have spotted Crow again at Palmetto Bay. He knew it and attacked her and seized her.

No, thought Kaplan, that is not how it happened. It happened because this fucking loony in the back….

He swung off the main road to a narrow street that looked like it might wind back toward the house. Up ahead, he saw that the paved road was ending. After that it was dirt. That looked right. He’d go that way.

He said, “Leslie…Miss Stewart…can you hear me back there?”

She coughed and she squirmed. She could hear.

He said, “Miss Stewart, we’re not going to hurt you. I give you my word.
No one hurts you.”

Lockwood glanced at him sideways. Kaplan knew what he was thinking. Lockwood’s eyes said, “
No way we don’t snuff her. She’s seen us
.” But Kaplan
was thinking, “
No, she’s only seen Crow. You, she only heard, but it doesn’t much matter. You two are going to get a bullet in the head just as soon as I can stash this girl someplace
.”

Leslie’s voice, scared and muffled, came up from the well. She asked Kaplan, “What did you do?”

He answered, “Do where? You mean down on the dock?”

“What did you do to Claudia? What did you do to Adam? If you hurt them…”

“We didn’t. They were not even there. None of us have seen them. It’s the truth.”

Lockwood snapped, “What’s this? True confessions? Shut up.”

“No use scaring her more than we have to,” said Kaplan. He asked Leslie, “By the way, what were you doing there?”