Dead Water (31 page)

“One last question, Hank, and we’ll get out of your hair,” said Lew genially. “The NASD did ask me to clarify exactly why you have been making international money transfers, and I will need a record of your accounts. I told them I was sure you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course not. I can drop that off on my way to the airport later,” said Hank. Again, the clearing of the throat. “I’m opening a hunting lodge in Saskatchewan. The transfers are to my subcontractors on the building we have under way up there. I’ll have all their names and account numbers for you but, Lewellyn, I’m quite concerned this go through the way I’ve arranged. If I don’t pay these fellows on schedule, they will hold up construction. We have a bit of a crisis up there right now, which is why I have to make this last-minute trip.”

“I can’t imagine any problem,” said Lew. Osborne heard the sound of chairs scraping again. Lew and Gina must have stood up to leave.

“Oh, golly, I do have one more question, Hank.” Lew’s voice was so friendly. Osborne had heard her sound that way only once before, when he watched her play poker one night after fishing. They had stopped in at the resort down the road from Osborne’s place for a fishing report and been talked into playing a few hands. He had been quite impressed: Lew bluffed as well as she cast.

“Gina is helping me update our gun registrations. We learned that young Zenner has been making quite a few purchases of firearms at estate sales and antique stores. He has been using his own name and driver’s license number on all except for his very first one. He bought that gun using his name but
your
driver’s license. Just want to alert you.”

“That little sneak,” said Hank. “That kid’s been giving me a lot of trouble lately. I’ve been looking for a reason to fire him. Kid’s trouble, gives me the creeps.”

“That’s not the only problem,” piped up Gina. “When I checked the DOT database for your license number, the photo that came up belongs to a man who’s been dead five years. Doesn’t resemble you in the least.”

“You’re not serious,” said Hank. “That’s quite a screw-up.”

“We thought so. Do you have your passport handy?” said Lew. “I can use that to correct the records this afternoon.”

Hank cleared his throat again. “Certainly. You know, Lewellyn, I moved up here from another state, so I’m not surprised you might have a Wisconsin resident with the same name. I’ll drop off a photocopy this afternoon with everything else you need.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he checked his watch, “my business partners are due here in less than an hour, or I would get everything you need right this minute. But it’s up at the house, and I’ll have to do a little digging. Say, before you two leave, what do you think of this spot for hanging my new mount?”

Footsteps indicated Hank had walked over to the wall near the door to the outdoors. Ray looked back at Osborne with a grim smile. If ever someone was trying to change the subject …

Lew and Gina could be heard walking toward the door.

“That looks good, Hank,” Lew said.

“Nice seeing you again, Hank,” said Gina, “but … do you know … something about you is so familiar. I told the Chief yesterday, I’m just sure we’ve met before.”

“I don’t think so,” said Hank. “But I certainly hope we do so again.”

“Oh gosh, Hank, I almost forgot to mention,” said Lew, “on those transfers of yours? You must be doing a heck of a construction project, because NASD put a stop on one for sixteen million dollars. The clearing broker in Kansas City canceled it early this morning, just so you know.”

“What …” Hank’s voice dropped to its natural register. “What are you saying?”

“Don’t get excited. I assured them you would be happy to straighten this out.”

“Why did they stop my transfer?” asked Hank.

“They’re confused by some stock transactions issuing from an electronic address identical to the one you use for your money transfers. I believe it’s a tax question. You can take it up with them when you’re back in town.”

“Lewellyn, investing in the stock market is a very sophisticated enterprise.” Hank sounded like he was disciplining a child. Osborne smirked. Good. Now Lew would get a good dose of what it was he and Ray despised about the man. “That group—the NASS-whatevers—they must have some neophyte looking at this, because my company is fully authorized—”

Hank stopped suddenly. A long silence. When he spoke again, his voice was quite different: soft, measured.

“Gina … no, don’t look away.” He cleared his throat. “I saw that look on your face. You know, don’t you.” He wasn’t asking a question.

“Yes, Michael I know,”
said Gina, her voice so firm it seemed to boom through the room. “You can spend a fortune on plastic surgery, but you can’t change your speech patterns. Clear your throat again, won’t you? It is music to my ears, you son of a bitch.

“I’ve got you cold, Winston. You tried to execute a half-million-dollar stock trade and money transfer out of Ashley Olson’s brokerage account three days ago. NASD traced it for me this morning.”

Silence.

“Hank,” said Lew, her voice brisk, “I’ll give you a minute to cancel your flight reservations if you wish. You’re coming with us.”

Ray raised one hand as if to signal to Osborne. Maybe it was the movement that shifted his weight or maybe it was just destiny, but even as he turned to look at Osborne, Ray began to slide. The beam beneath him sagged, tipping him sideways. Down he went through the ceiling. Down and down.

thirty-five

“The outdoor life pleased these old men because they believed any properly obsessed fly-fisherman carried rivers and trout inside him.”

Harry Middleton

Osborne
held his breath as he listened. A long, long moment he could never reverse. He heard a thud, followed by the sound of papers skittering off the tabletop, the slam of a door.

Then … silence. Dear God. Every nerve ending in Osborne’s body hummed with dread. He waited for some sound of life. How badly was Ray hurt? How could life turn so bad so fast?

“Always making an entrance, aren’t you, Ray.” He heard Lew’s voice from a distance. She wasn’t being funny. “Ray?” she said. No answer. “Ray …” Silence.

Osborne went still, as still as he had one cold dawn in his deer stand when he thought he heard a buck but, looking around, had stared straight into the edgy, challenging eyes of a timber wolf. The stalker suddenly stalked.

He did now as he had done that morning: stayed absolutely still, only his eyes moving. As he watched, a few more tiles loosened and dropped. The hole in the ceiling had widened enough for him to have a clear view of the area below.

A slight movement from Nick caused him to glance over to where the boy was clutching the narrow rafter beneath him, his face tense. The beam on which he was balanced looked steady enough, perhaps because it was perpendicular to the one Ray had been on and had support from another crossbeam. Osborne motioned for him to stay right where he was. He mustered a look of authority for his own face, hoping it would calm the boy.

Looking down, he saw Lew back up to stand behind the conference table. The room was remarkably quiet. She nodded to someone out of his view, said nothing, then raised her right hand to lay her nine-millimeter SIG Saur down onto the table, several feet from where Ray’s head had struck a stack of computer printouts. Osborne did not like the angle between his head and his shoulders. Gina joined Lew, her hands held high.

Osborne realized that the fall must have bought Hank the few precious seconds he needed to slam open one of the sliding doors and grab a gun. No wonder Lew and Gina’s gestures were so slow and deliberate. Based on Zenner’s report that Hank enjoyed firing at deer from his office window, Osborne figured he had a rifle, not a shotgun. Not that it would make a difference at close range.

Hank walked into view, the rifle in his arms leveled at the two women. Keeping his eyes on Gina and Lew, he leaned cautiously over Ray’s still form. He paused to make certain Ray was unconscious, then shoved hard, knocking his prone body onto the floor.

“No! Don’t do that!”
cried Osborne. “You’ll break his neck,” he added lamely.

Keeping his gun pointed at Lew and Gina, Hank tipped his head slightly to look up into the hole in the ceiling. “Who the hell?”

He looked back at Lew. “Quite a team effort you got here. I underestimated you. I surely did. Dr. Osborne, get your ass down here. And no funny business or one of the girls gets a bullet in her head.”

“Take it easy, Hank,” said Osborne, trying as hard as he could to sound as flat and even as Lew. Never look a mad dog in the eye, he reminded himself, never let him know you’re scared. “I’m coming,” he called as he shuffled down the ladder, making as much noise as possible. “No need to hurt anyone.”

Feet on the floor, he shoved at the ladder, scraping it loudly across the floor as he grabbed Zenner. The boy was terrified, his breathing shallow and his whole body trembling.

Osborne gripped one arm hard as he whispered in the boy’s ear, “Take it easy, Zenner. This is no time to lose it. Understand? I can stall Hank while you go for help. Stay out of sight of the windows, keep as quiet as you can, but get to the highway, flag someone down, have them call the police. But, Zenner, you have to be very quiet. Don’t move until I find some way to make a ruckus to cover you.

“Osborne!” Hank bellowed from the other room. “You touch a phone over there …”

“My ankle twisted, Hank. I’m coming, I’m sorry.”

Osborne loosened his grip on the boy’s arm. “Take a deep breath. You can do it. I know you can.”

Osborne hurried out the entrance to the computer room, noticing as he went that the screen door squeaked as it opened. He looked down for a rock, hoping to jam the door open so Zenner could get through in silence. But just then Hank’s form loomed in the doorway to his right. Osborne quickly raised his arms high as he stepped through the door to Hank’s office. Walking to the back of the room to stand next to Lew, his eyes held hers for a brief moment before her focus shifted back to Hank. She hadn’t given up.

Turning, he got a good look at Hank’s rifle. The man knew guns all right. He was holding a Remington 270 semiautomatic. Damn. Too much firepower, too fast a trigger. Why the hell couldn’t the asshole go for a bolt action? A few seconds were all they needed.

“I’m responsible for this, Hank,” Lew was saying. Osborne tried to get a look at Ray’s face, but his head was hidden behind the solid base of the table. His body lay exactly as it had fallen. There was no way to tell if any bones were broken.

“Doc and Ray work special projects for me. It’s my fault they’re here.”

“You sent these two out to hide in my attic, for chrissake?”

“Zenner’s trick for getting past the deadbolt on your door,” said Osborne, anxious to divert Hank’s attention. He made a quick decision to bluff and hoped to hell Lew would catch on.

“We’ve been on to you for over a month, Kendrickson,” he said. “At our request, Zenner has been monitoring your on-line activity and reporting back to us. Those nights you were fishing with Chief Ferris? He crawled in here, logged on to your computer, and recorded every transaction you executed.”

Lew nodded in agreement. Let Hank think they knew a hell of a lot more than they did. Lead him to believe they have him surrounded.

“You had me cold on the guns,” said Lew. “If it hadn’t been for Gina’s work on the ATF records, you might have got away with everything. I was convinced Zenner had gone over the edge and was getting ready to take out the competition at Loon Lake High. When I got the report on the bite marks, I was almost positive. Hank, you nearly succeeded at setting up a youngster to take the rap for murder.”

“Stupid kid made it easy,” said Hank, grinning. “He liked to brag about his vampire clique and how they scare the other kids. Then he showed me those plaster casts. All I had to do was press those teeth marks in there nice and hard. Who wouldn’t believe he did it?”

The look of pride on Hank’s face was fleeting. “So he got into my computer, huh? That explains why he didn’t show up yesterday afternoon. Damn you, Ferris. You cost me several million bucks.” The barrel of the rifle shifted ever so slightly.

Uh-oh
, thought Osborne. He searched his mind for something to say, anything, willing to sound totally inane if he could buy time. “Hank, we’re less than two hours from the Canadian border. If Chief Ferris agrees, maybe we can make a deal? Give you enough time to get over the border before we—”

“Shut up,” said Hank. “No deal. I got you all lined and ready to die. That’s the deal. That way I have all the time I need to pack up and get out of here. Lucy’s my pal, y’know. I’ll give her a call and let her know I’m taking Miss Lewellyn and Miss Palmer here out for a little fly-fishing and dinner afterward. Think she won’t buy that? As far as you and your fish freak friend here, the last place anyone would look for you two is out here. You know that.”

A moment’s silence from Osborne and Lew gave Hank exactly the answer he needed.

“Lucy can’t be conned that easy,” said Lew.

“I’ve done it before, Chief,” said Hank softly.

Osborne scanned the room with his peripheral vision, looking for some opening. Lew’s pistol had disappeared from the table. Hank must have picked it up. The windows were still shut tight. Osborne hoped that would mask the sound of Zenner’s footsteps. He prayed the kid was smart enough to remember the door squeaked and try a window on the opposite side of the building, over a spot where he might be able to let himself down onto grass. The only good news was that the ceiling panels over the conference table had ripped open in such a way that Nick’s position was still obscured. Osborne knew his beam was one that intersected the wall by the gun racks and ran through the center of the room, closer to the closet than the conference table. He wondered how much of the activity Nick could see. He hoped like hell the boy could hang on in silence.