Die a Stranger (28 page)

“While you’re doing that,” I said, “I’m gonna see if we can get this boat started.”

I started to stand up, that was the exact moment when I heard the last thing in the world I wanted to hear.

The sound of a motor.

It was the high-pitched whine of something built for speed. It didn’t sound close yet, but I knew we’d probably see him before the next minute ended.

Corvo had arrived.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“What’s that sound?” Lou said, still sawing at the rope.

I didn’t answer him. The key had been dangling from the ignition, and I was too busy trying to start the engine. When it finally caught, I revved it and heard the pistons knocking and felt the whole motor shaking like it would fall right off into the water.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Lou said. “We’re sitting ducks.”

“We’ve got no chance,” I said. “I don’t care how big a head start we have. That boat will run us down.”

“I can’t hear it,” he said, as he stood and cocked his head toward the sound of the approaching boat. “How close are they?”

An idea came to me. Desperate and probably doomed to failure, but it was probably our only shot left.

“Where’s the money?” I said.

There was a duffel bag sitting just below the other captain’s chair. I hadn’t even noticed it until that very second. I picked up the bag and opened it. I saw the bundles of hundred-dollar bills inside.

“What are we gonna do with that?” Lou said. “Come on, we’ve got to make a run for it. We’ve gotta try, at least.”

“It’s ten miles back to Beaver Island, Lou. You take the boat and go around to the other side of this island. I’ll stay here and see if I can talk to this guy.”

“What, are you crazy? He’ll kill you in a second.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I know he’s expecting a bag full of money plus two Indians. We’ll have to see what happens if he only gets the money.”

“I’m not leaving you here, Alex. No way.”

“We’re wasting time,” I said as I pulled up the anchor. Then I reached over the gunwale and pulled the jet ski close. “They won’t hear you as long as they’ve got their own engine running. So get over to the other side and then cut your engine. Have that gun ready, just in case. If they come around, try to surprise him with it. You’ll probably only get one shot.”

Assuming the gun’s even dry enough to fire, I thought. Yet one more thing stacked against us.

“You take the boat,” he said. “I’ll stay here.”

“Bad idea. They’re looking for Indians, remember?”

“This is madness,” he said, but he didn’t stop me as I took the bag and climbed off the boat and onto the jet ski.

“Get going! Now!”

He pushed the throttle forward and cranked the steering wheel. The boat made a tight circle around me, churning up sand in the shallow water. He left the inlet and went around the northern end of the island. I could hear the other boat’s engine now. It was much closer.

This island’s about a mile long, I thought. We’re on the northwest corner. If this Corvo guy is coming from Chicago, he’ll approach from the southwest. If our boat’s on the eastern side, he shouldn’t see it. Unless he circles around, just to make sure the coast is clear. Which is exactly what I would do if I were in his place. Making this now officially the dumbest idea I’ve ever had.

The motor was getting louder. I knew it was just a matter of seconds now. I looked back and saw that Lou was almost out of sight. I willed that old fishing boat to go faster, to get around that bend before it was too late.

That’s when Corvo’s boat came into view. He’d come up from the south and hugged the shoreline, so when he cleared the bend in the island he was suddenly
right there,
right on top of me. I didn’t dare look back to make sure Lou was clear now. I just stood up on the jet ski, straddling the seat. I held the bag of money in the air and put my other hand in the air, as well. I said a silent prayer and tried to stop my knees from shaking.

It was one of those cigarette boats, long and sleek and ridiculous. Twin engines churning up the water. I’m sure the thing could hit one hundred miles per hour without breaking a sweat. There were two men in the boat, one behind the wheel, one standing and holding a rifle. There was a scope on the rifle. Both men were wearing sunglasses. The driver throttled down and sent his wake ahead of him. It rocked the jet ski and I had to reach down to grab one handle. That caused the standing man to aim the rifle right at me. I’m sure my face was clear in his crosshairs.

I fought to keep my balance as I raised both hands again. I held that bag as high as I could. The boat swung away and made a loop in the open water. Then it came back into the inlet dead slow, its engines purring.

The man kept the rifle trained on my face. Yet one more gun pointed at me in these last few days when it had seemed almost constant. If you think you ever get used to it, you don’t. That’s what I was learning.

The man at the wheel stood up and looked around. He was especially interested in the island itself. He was scanning the shoreline like he expected something or someone to surprise him, but there was nothing there but sand and trees and what looked like a healthy crop of poison ivy.

The man with the rifle was wearing a bright Hawaiian shirt. I finally noticed that detail. The man at the wheel was wearing a nice light panel shirt, perfect for a day out in the summer sun. Not quite as casual as a Hawaiian shirt. It seemed odd to me that they’d be dressed that way. But then maybe they were trying to blend in with the other boaters on the lake. Of course, if they put the rifle away, they’d have a better shot at it.

Neither of them seemed in any hurry to talk to me. I was holding up that bag and my arm was starting to shake. I didn’t want to move.

“What’s the gag?” the man behind the wheel said. The boat was ten feet away now and drifting closer.

“No gag,” I said. “I have your money.”

He narrowed his eyes for a moment. Then he took another look around, like he was trying to spot the hidden camera.

“You’ll excuse my political incorrectness,” he finally said, “but you’re not an Indian. And there’s only one of you.”

“Right on both counts. There’s been a change in plans.”

“A change in what?” There was a look of pure amazement on his face. “Did you actually just say that?”

“I did.”

I kept breathing. I kept my legs locked straight.

“Throw me the bag,” he said. “Understand that if you do anything else, Mr. White here will shoot your head clean off your body.”

I tossed the bag to him. I kept my hands up afterward. I waited and watched while he opened the bag and took a quick scan through the stacks of hundreds.

“Okay,” he said, “so explain to me why I’m finding you here on a jet ski instead of two Indians on a boat, like I was expecting.”

“I told you, there’s been a change in plans. I came out here to personally deliver the money to you, and to explain the situation.”

He looked amazed again. I figured I should probably change my approach a bit.

“I’m not trying to dictate anything,” I said. “I just ask that you listen to me. I assume you’re Corvo, by the way.”

“Wow,” he said. “Okay, then. This should be interesting. Get in the boat.”

I hesitated.

“If you want to talk, talk,” he said. “But you’ll do it here in my boat.”

Mr. White lowered his rifle. He handed it to Corvo, who simply held it by the barrel as Mr. White extended one hand to me. Either it was a gesture of extreme trust or they knew that nobody would be so stupid as to try something.

“I’m not that old,” I said, brushing aside the man’s hand and climbing over the rail of their boat. I lost my balance for one instant and the man grabbed me. There was a pure animal strength in his grip as he straightened me up and gave me a quick once-over. My wallet came out of my back pocket. My cell phone out of my front pocket. These items were placed on one of the seat cushions. He patted down the rest of me, from shoulders to ankles.

Mr. White took back the rifle. With his hands free now, Corvo opened up my wallet and looked through its contents. I knew all he’d find would be my driver’s license, a few credit cards, and maybe a hundred dollars in very wet bills.

“Alex McKnight,” he said, reading from my license. “What do you do for a living?”

“I rent out cabins.”

He pushed down his sunglasses for a moment and looked at me.

“Something tells me that’s not all you do. But let’s go somewhere where we can be a little more comfortable. Have a seat.”

He straightened his sunglasses, sat down behind the wheel, and pushed the throttle forward. Any questions about actually sitting down became moot as I was thrown back onto the seat cushions.

Mr. White tucked the rifle behind him. Now that he knew I wasn’t carrying, he clearly couldn’t imagine me being any kind of threat. I couldn’t imagine it, either. I sat there and felt the wind against my wet clothes as Corvo took the boat straight out into the open water of Lake Michigan. He took a quick glance back over his shoulder to make sure I was appreciating the ride. I gave him a nod. Yes, I get it. You’ve got the fastest boat in the Great Lakes.

When he had taken us about ten minutes away, he throttled it back. I turned and looked at Gull Island. It was a small thing on the far side of the world now. Lou and Vinnie and Buck were somewhere on the other side of it, safe for the moment. Corvo swiveled in his chair and faced me, not bothering to look where he was drifting. We were miles away from anything.

He picked up my cell phone and looked at it. For once, I didn’t get a wisecrack about how old it was. Then he picked up my wallet. This time when he opened it, he took out the license and examined it closely.

“Paradise, Michigan,” he said. “That’s in the UP, right? Near Sault Ste. Marie?”

“Yes.”

“How far is it from the Newberry airport?”

“Forty miles, maybe.”

“Yes, you see? Now it’s coming together. Forty miles away. I’m going to ask you some questions now, and I’d like you to give me some totally straight answers. Are we okay with that?”

He took his sunglasses off. He had dark eyes. I couldn’t tell if maybe he had some Latin blood in him. Maybe even Indian. There was definitely a mix of races going on, along with something else. Robot or space alien or something. He looked me dead in the eye and he didn’t waver for one second.

“I’ll be straight with you,” I said.

“Good. Okay. So first question. Were you at the airport that night?”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“The two Indians. They were there.”

“One of them was. The other came to pick him up when he called. You have to understand something.”

He looked taken aback again. But this time he was smiling.

“I have to understand something?” he said. “Really? Okay, then. Enlighten me.”

“I don’t know what the Kaisers told you, but I’m sure it’s all bullshit. Those two men had nothing to do with what happened at the airport.”

He was nodding his head. He was still smiling.

“The two men we’re talking about,” he said. “Buck Carrick, and the other one. Vincent LeBlanc. Right? Those are the two men?”

“Buck went along for the ride. That’s all. When things went wrong, he just wanted to get away. So he called Vinnie. End of story. What the Kaisers told you—”

“Was bullshit. Yeah, no kidding. You don’t think I know that?”

He just sat there, shaking his head, still smiling, still drilling two holes through me with those eyes.

“Alex, how well do you know the Kaisers?”

“I just met them today for the first time. It wasn’t a good experience.”

He laughed a little at that one.

“I don’t imagine it was,” he said. “But even if you just met them today, can we agree that they would sell out their own grandchildren to protect themselves?”

“Yes,” I said, recoiling at the very idea of Kaiser grandchildren. Maybe coming to visit them at their rented summer house on the island.

“Here’s the situation. You see, we had a business arrangement as of last month, and I thought everybody was getting along just fine.”

“After you muscled in on their operation, you mean.”

I wasn’t sure why I said it. It just came out and it hung there in the air for a moment. Then, before I could even see how he did it, a knife appeared in Corvo’s right hand. He twirled it between his fingers.

“After we agreed on the new arrangement, is how I prefer to put it. If you don’t mind.” His voice didn’t change at all, but the blade was more than enough. He was an absolute master at twirling it, I had to give him that much.

I nodded for him to go ahead. I tried to look him in the eye and not watch the knife.

“I know the Kaisers have the place on Beaver Island,” he said. “They think they can hunker down there and send me out a bag of money and a couple of Indians to take the blame for them. If it seems like I’m playing along, believe me, it’s only because I know I’ll catch up to them eventually.”

“They’re on the ferry back to the mainland right now.”

“Let them run. It doesn’t matter. I’ll find them.”

“I don’t think they’re running. In fact, I’m pretty sure they’re going back to their house.”

“Do tell,” he said, looking a little surprised.

“I think they’re under the impression that you’re all square now,” I said, nodding toward the bag of money.

He shook his head slowly. Almost sadly. Like the very idea of this was just too much to bear. We were facing directly west now, the sun bright in my eyes.

“So where are they?” he finally said.

“I just told you. They’re on the ferry. They’re going back home.”

He smiled again. He stopped twirling the knife.

“The Indians,” he said. “Carrick and LeBlanc.”

“I thought we agreed they had no part in this.”

“We agreed that the Kaisers’ story was a lie, and that the Indians almost certainly had nothing to do with the planning of the new drop site. Or even the execution, for that matter. But when they were offered up as part of this deal today, I agreed to take them. Do you want to know why?”