How much?
Ten grand for very little work in advance. All you have to do is get him to a dock in the boat.
All right, I'll see you later.
She hung up. Manny sat down at his desk, pleased with himself. This one was going to be a piece of cake, and it would make up for the failure in Key West.
Chapter 57
STON E A N D D IN O looked up to see Evan and the car coming. He stopped, and they got inside, Stone behind the wheel.
How'd it go?
he asked.
Perfectly,
Evan replied. He searched me and the briefcase for a wire, but he didn't find anything. While I was there he got a call from his hit man, and we're on for tonight.
Hey, that's quick service!
Dino said.
I told him to use the boat, as we'd planned.
Stone got on the phone to Tommy Sculley. Hey, Tommy, we're on for tonight.
Tonight? I'd better get my ass in gear. I've alerted the county sheriff, and they're standing by. I guess I'd better seaplane it up there and land on the waterway. It's the fastest way to Mike's place from Key West.
Evan spoke up. Put it on speaker.
Stone did.
Tommy,
Evan said, I told him Mike has a drink on his back porch at sunset every night, so you need to be there while it's still broad daylight.
Okay, I'll alert everybody.
Something else: I'm going to meet Manny White at a place in South Beach called the Steak Shack, at seven-thirty. He's to get a call there when the job is done, and I'll give him the rest of the money. The bartender and the waitress are supposed to be my alibi.
You done good, kid,
Tommy said. The sheriff's guys will bust the hit man when he brings the boat back to the marina, and the state cops can bust Manny as soon as the money changes hands.
Tommy,
Stone said, for God's sake tell the state cops to be careful. This is apparently a restaurant where Manny is well known, and we don't want to spook him by having cops at half the tables. Have them look in from outside, or Evan can phone them when it's done. They can bust Manny on his way out of the place.
Okay, okay, I get it,
Tommy said. Where are you two guys gonna be?
Stone looked at Dino. What's your preference?
We're here, let's stay here,
Dino said. We can go in with the state cops after the money changes hands. Anyway, I'd like to see the look on Manny's face.
Me too,
Stone said. You get that, Tommy?
I got it. Just don't let Manny spot you, or he'll walk out.
Evan recorded their whole conversation,
Stone said, so we'll have him, anyway.
Wait a minute,
Evan said, I just thought of something.
What?
I didn't get everything recorded.
What are you talking about?
I'm afraid I got a little too clever. I wrote down part of it on a pad, the part where I tell him I want the guy killed, and showed it to him instead of speaking.
Stone groaned. You get that, Tommy?
Yeah, I got it. Evan, you've got to get it all recorded tonight when you meet Manny. Don't write things down this time, okay?
Okay, Tommy,
Evan said. I'm sorry.
Just do a good job tonight, and we'll bag everybody.
I swear I will,
Evan said.
Suddenly, Dino yelled, Everybody duck!
Everybody ducked.
What's this about, Dino?
Stone asked.
It's Manny, he just drove past us.
Did he see us?
I don't think so, but man, was that close. He's way up the street now, so you can sit up.
Everybody sat up.
I heard that,
Tommy said. Did you guys just blow this whole deal?
I think we're okay, Tommy,
Dino said. He didn't see us.
MANNY WHITE D R O V E down Collins Avenue and onto the mainland, toward Florida City. An hour later he pulled up at a diner, near where the Florida Turnpike started, and went inside. Larry Lee and Gigi Jones were at a corner booth. Manny slid in beside them and laid his briefcase on the table. A waitress approached. What can I get you?
A Diet Coke,
Manny said.
Same here,
Larry said.
Iced tea,
Gigi said.
The woman left, and Manny opened his briefcase and took out the map Joe had given him. This is gonna be easy,
he said. He showed them the marina and told them about the boat, then gave them every detail he could remember about the cottage and the dock. The guy has a drink on his back porch every evening at sundown, he said. That's your time to hit him. Just get the boat near the dock in decent light. There's a sign on the dock with his initials, M. L.
Is the guy going to be armed?
Larry asked.
He keeps a shotgun locked up, so he can't get at it in a hurry, Manny replied. If you can use your rifle from the end of the dock, that's best.
Why can't we approach from the landward side?
Gigi said.
Too many neighbors to see you come and go.
What about people at the marina where the Whaler is?
It's private and unmanned. You can sit in the car and see whether anybody is around.
This all sounds good,
Larry said. It just came up today?
Yeah, a friend of mine in New York sent the guy, says he's okay and . . .
He opened the briefcase and gave Larry and Gigi ten thousand dollars each. He brought gifts, Manny said. The two tucked their money away.
You two had better get going before rush hour starts up,
Manny said. Take the turnpike north; there'll be less traffic than on I-95, and no trucks. I'll get the check.
You're a prince, Manny,
Gigi said.
What are you going to do about the car?
Manny said. Gigi spoke up. I'll drop Larry off at his house in Jupiter and return the car to Key Largo tonight. Tomorrow, I'll head back to Key West. I'll let you know when Evan gets back from Connecticut, and we'll get him taken care of.
I don't want to go to Key West again, if I can help it,
Larry said.
I've missed twice there; it's bad luck.
I'll see if I can get him to Miami,
Gigi said. You'll have a very nice payday when we get that done.
The three split up and went their separate ways.
Chapter 58
TOM M Y SCU L L EY S A T in the right seat of the amphibian Cessna 182 and watched the Intracoastal Waterway a thousand feet below them.
You gotta get lower,
Tommy said, looking at the map, and right now.
Okay,
the pilot replied, reducing power. The airplane, with the drag of the floats, slowed immediately and began to descend.
Man, everything looks different from the air,
Tommy said.
Always,
the pilot replied. He pointed at the map. Is that the creek right before we get to your buddy's house?
That's gotta be it,
Tommy said. That's where the marina is.
The pilot reduced power further and put in a notch of fl aps.
Then we better get down fast; we're nearly there. Watch for boats and other obstructions.
Tommy peered ahead. The sun was low in the sky, and the western half of the waterway was in shadow. Damn, we're really cutting it close, he said.
We had headwinds,
the pilot replied, putting in another notch of flaps. I see a dock up ahead. We clear of traffic?
Tommy checked ahead. A large cabin cruiser was moving south on the waterway, but was not a factor for them. You're all clear, as far as I can see, he said.
The pilot touched down smoothly and slowed. How can we tell if this is the right dock?
It's the first one up from the creek,
Tommy said. Can you turn around and come in with my side to the dock? Then I can hop out and hold the plane. Leave the engine running, so you can take off immediately if this is the right place.
The pilot made a wide turn, set the engine at idle and approached the dock. As he did a man came jogging down the dock.
That's Mike!
Tommy yelled. He'll catch us.
The pilot maneuvered closer until the wing was over the dock. The man reached out, grabbed the strut under the wing and pulled them until the floats brushed the fenders attached to the dock. Tommy opened the door and tossed his overnight bag onto the pontoon, then hopped out and closed the door. He gave the pilot a thumbs-up and, with Mike's help, pushed the airplane away from the dock. A moment later the airplane was picking up speed, and a moment after that it lifted off and headed south, climbing.
Hey, Mike!
Tommy said, shaking his hand and clapping him on the shoulder. How you been?
Not too bad,
Michael Levy replied. He was a little over six feet tall, on the slim side, wearing shorts, sneakers and a polo shirt. He grabbed Tommy's bag and started up the dock. C'mon, he said.
I'll show you what I've got done.
GI G I D R O V E T H E rental car down the paved road, with Larry Lee, which was his real name, in the passenger seat. Look at that, Larry said, pointing to an airplane climbing above the tree line, headed south.
It's just an airplane,
Gigi said, checking their map. Here's the road to the marina coming up.
It's against the law in Florida to land an airplane on a beach or on the inland waterway,
Larry said.
Does anybody pay attention to that?
she asked.
The cops don't,
he replied.
Did the airplane have any offi cial markings?
No, it looks ordinary enough,
Larry said, but I still don't like it.
She reached the road with a sign pointing left to the Osprey Marina private.
Slow down,
Larry said. Slow way down.
They came to a bridge. Stop at the top of the bridge, he said.
All right.
The bridge gave them a little elevation to see above the trees, which weren't very tall.
We've got a nearly empty parking lot, a shack and a fl oating pontoon,
she said. No more than a dozen boats, and I don't see any people.
There's one,
Larry said. A man had stepped onto the pontoon from a small motorboat with a cabin and was walking toward the connecting footbridge that rose and fell with the tide. He was carrying a sailing duffel. Let's just wait here a minute, Larry said. The man walked ashore, tossed his duffel in the back of a pickup, got in, started it and drove toward the road.
Go ahead slowly,
Larry said. Let him get past us, then stop before you get to the parking lot.
The truck passed them going the other way as they drove off the bridge.
He looks like a regular guy with a boat,
Gigi said.
Yeah, he does. Just pull over about fifty yards ahead at that wide spot. I want to take a look on foot.
Larry, the place looks deserted.
She sighed.
Gigi, did I ever tell you that I've never been arrested, not even for a speeding ticket, let alone a killing?
Yes, Larry.
Well, that's because I'm careful, and I always listen to my own brain, and right now, my brain is a little nervous.
Gigi pulled over and stopped. You want me to wait here?
Turn the car around and keep the motor running,
he said. She did so, and Larry got out of the car. He crossed the road, entered the woods, which was mostly smallish live oaks, and began running lightly through the trees. He slowed down when he could see the edge of the parking lot, then approached the pavement cautiously. From a few feet into the trees he could see everything. The parking lot was empty, and so was the pontoon. The sun was low in the sky, big and red, with the light filtering through the pollution from I-95. It was dead quiet.
Larry looked around the perimeter of the parking lot, checking for men in the tree line, but he saw nothing. He retraced his steps to the road and went to the car. As he put his hand on the door handle he heard something. Whomp-whomp-whomp. He got quickly into the car. Chopper, he said. Let's go, but don't drive over thirty.
Which way?
Back the way we came,
Larry said.
I don't see the chopper,
she said, and then she crossed the bridge and turned right, and there it was.
State police,
he said.
But it's headed away from us, toward I-95.
Look,
he said, pointing. Stop here.
Ahead of them, several miles away, a column of black smoke was rising, and the helicopter was flying toward it.