The Plot (28 page)

The lines around her mouth deepened in a frown, and he remembered how beautiful she had been as a young woman. “It is okay, Selena. What threatens you threatens us all. But can't you tell me what happened? I think it is important for me to know."

"Perhaps, Carlos, perhaps,” she replied, sighing. “But I do not want to endanger you anymore than I already have."

"Selena. You are like my sister."

She looked across the narrow space between them and was silent a long time. Finally, she shrugged and related the events at the farmhouse.

When she finished, he gave a low whistle and shook his head. “And Alamo said it was an isolated incident?"

"Yes. For that, at least, we can be thankful. But, as you can see, Godiva and I are in great danger if we are caught. She must be able to finish her mission."

Carlos wondered what Godiva's mission was, but no cluster knew exactly what any of the others were doing. It was too hazardous. When the time came, they would each do their own part, and it would all work together. He wished that it would happen soon. He lived in fear of being found out and imprisoned. Or executed. “How long have they had warrants out for your arrest?"

"I'm not certain. At least since Moses was killed. They're using his death as an excuse. According to what Joshua learned from their files, they're saying that I was involved in planning his death."

Carlos shook his head again. “Jesus, Selena. Trying to hide from the Feds is like trying to hide from God. Or Satan."

"That is why Godiva and I must separate as soon as possible."

"Where will you go?” he asked, reaching into the cooler behind him and taking out a Coke. He offered her one, but she shook her head.

"I'm not sure. Perhaps to Sentry Biscayne. Perhaps to the Caribbean. I'll just have to see what comes my way.” She hesitated a moment, staring at the blue waters of the Gulf sliding swiftly past.

"I wish I could go with you.
Wherever
you end up.” It was Cassie, who had stepped up behind them unnoticed. Carlos and Selena turned abruptly at the interruption.

"You look tired,” Selena murmured, reaching out to brush the hair away from Cassie's forehead.

"Yes,
señorita
. Would you like to go below and sleep? The beds are very comfortable,” Carlos said.

"Yes, I would. Very much. How about you, Selena? No telling when either of us will be able to sleep peacefully again,” Cassie suggested and led the way down the steps into the small cabin.

May Lee stepped from her front porch and walked across the lawn to greet Max as he drove into the front yard. The circles under her eyes were almost as black as the simple dress she wore, and her hands trembled when she climbed into the car and pulled the door closed. She had called him just as he was leaving the Chief's office, where he learned he was being suspended from duty until Internal Affairs completed their investigation of his shooting of Jonathon. Despite the pain that was inevitable in helping May Lee claim Philip's body, he welcomed any diversion from his own problems.

"I called the morgue,” he said as he backed the car out onto the street. “They will have Philip's body ready for you to claim."

"What about Jonathon? He has no relatives...” she asked, her voice soft.

"I know. Under the circumstances, I can't do anything about him personally, but I'll ask my partner to take care of him later. Don't worry. I won't let him be treated as anything less than the good man he was.” He paused, remembering the betrayed look on the old man's face while he lay dying in Bates’ dining room. It was a memory that wasn't likely to fade anytime soon. “Are you planning to take Philip back to China with you or bury him here?” he asked.

"I cannot take him to China. They will not allow that, and since I will...” She stopped, and he looked over to see her raise a lace-edged handkerchief to her eyes. The stoicism of last night had disappeared like the fog. “Sorry, Max,” she continued, “since I will not be here to see him laid to rest, I think it would be best just to have him cremated. Then, maybe you could scatter his ashes for me on his mother's grave. She was a fine woman, you know, and loved my son dearly."

"Perhaps that is what I should arrange for Jonathon as well."

"That would be good...” Her voice faded, and she retreated into the privacy of her own thoughts.

Max wondered how she would react to seeing Philip's body. The morgue was as cold and forbidding as the death it housed, and the bodies that lay within were, for the most part, scheduled for autopsies. He remembered Cassie's face-the anger that had blazed in her eyes and flushed into her cheeks-when he'd advised her that her father would face the medical examiner's knife. It had not been the best way to begin a relationship.

He parked the car and led May Lee through the lobby to the elevator that would carry them down for one last look at her son. As the doors closed and they descended, he stole a glance at the frail woman standing by the opposite wall. He wished it didn't have to be this way. The sight of a hanged man was not pretty. It would leave a lasting memory so ugly that she'd always have difficulty reaching beyond it to remember other, better images of him.

When they stepped from the elevator, she hesitated a moment, looking around at the white concrete walls as if orienting herself, then started down the short hall that had only one destination. Seeing her almost lose her balance, Max reached out to steady her, then, with his hand on her elbow, guided her the rest of the way.

At the end of the corridor was a glass door with the word “Morgue” painted in large black letters. He rang the buzzer beside it, feeling May Lee's trembling grow more pronounced as he held her arm and waited. At last, a middle-aged woman in a surgical cap and gown opened the door.

"We're here to claim the body of Philip Sinclair,” Max explained. “This is Philip's mother. I am a friend of the family."

The woman studied them both for a brief moment, then closed the door and disappeared inside. She returned within moments to direct them to the large plate glass window at the back of the anteroom, then disappeared again behind the inner door. May Lee followed Max as if she wore leaden shoes, then stood before the window, her labored breathing audible. The curtains parted slowly, revealing Philip's corpse inch-by-inch, until the full impact of his violent, choking death could be seen.

May Lee whimpered and sank against Max but seemed unable to take her eyes off the bloated, purplish face engorged with dead blood and the bulging eyes that stared unblinking at the stark white ceiling. Max held both of her arms while she absorbed the sight of the son she'd given up so he would have a better life. At last, she turned away, burying her face against Max's blue shirt, and he nodded to the woman behind the window that they had seen enough.

As the curtains closed, he led May Lee to a wooden bench against the wall and sat beside her, rocking her in his arms until her breathing became more regular. At last, she looked up at him, her eyes wide with questions she couldn't begin to ask nor he to answer.

The sound of a door closing and footsteps echoing across the tile floor drew his attention toward the woman in the surgical uniform who approached. She looked neither kind nor unkind as she sat across from them with the clipboard on her lap.

"I believe you indicated that the body is that of your son, Philip Sinclair?” she asked, pen poised above paper.

May Lee tilted her head slightly at the woman's question, then looked at Max. He answered in her behalf. “Yes. That is correct."

"There will, of course, have to be an autopsy to ascertain the exact cause of death. But afterward, we can release the body to you or to your agent for disposal."

Max wanted to slap her.
Disposal? Bitch.
“Yes. We understand that. We have the name and phone number of the funeral home that you should contact to handle Philip's
arrangements
,” he replied, trying to keep his voice even, while May Lee opened her straw purse and handed the woman a small piece of paper.

"Can you tell us when the autopsy is scheduled?” Max asked. He intended to make sure May Lee's wishes were honored.

The woman looked down at her notes. “Two o'clock this afternoon, which means the remains will be available for pick-up by tomorrow morning. Preliminary results should be available to the police by tomorrow afternoon.” She stood and looked at May Lee, then reached down and patted her on the shoulder. “I'm so sorry for your loss,” she said, then turned and walked back inside the morgue.

May Lee sat up a little straighter and looked at Max. “Don't be too hard on her, Max. She lives among the dead."

He nodded, embarrassed that she had so easily read his mind, amazed at her compassion even in the face of her own tragedy.

Carlos stood and stretched, keeping one hand on the helm, as he looked over his left shoulder to the eastern horizon. He tensed at the sight of a gray boat heading toward them. From the way it sped across the two-foot waves, he had little doubt who it was. Cursing under his breath, he reached for the cell phone in the storage compartment at the entrance to the cabin. It pays to plan ahead, he thought, watching the boat grow rapidly larger as it approached.

The boat was less than a hundred yards away when he put the phone away and woke Selena and Cassie. “It's the Coast Guard,” he said softly. “Get the bandanna from that black bag and wrap it around your hair. See that straw hat? Godiva, you can wear that. And if you have sunglasses, keep them handy."

Selena and Cassie obeyed wordlessly, and Carlos closed the cabin door. Disguises were fine, but not being seen at all was even better, he thought, as the boat circled behind and hailed him on the marine radio.

"Coast Guard vessel to
Esperanza
. Over."

"
Esperanza
. Go ahead."

"Slow your engine and get ready to catch our lines. We're coming alongside."

Carlos did as directed, then stood by the starboard gunwale while the sleek boat eased closer. “What's the problem, Officer?” he asked, catching the lines and securing them to the cleats on the side.

"Routine inspection,” replied the young, crew-cut sailor. “You're a long way from home, aren't ya?"

"Yeah. Gotta get my stabilizers worked on in Ft. Myers."

The young man nodded and pulled the two boats close together. “Yeah, they've got the best in the business down—” He was interrupted by the loud crackle of his radio and turned to listen.

"Coast Guard Vessel 1629, this is United States Coast Guard, Yankeetown. Over,” came a woman's voice through the static.

"Go ahead, Yankeetown,” replied the helmsman, holding the mike close to his mouth.

"A small vessel is reported to be taking on water thirty miles northwest off Cedar Key. Women and children aboard. Please respond."

"We're on our way, Yankeetown. Out."

"Untie those lines for us, will ya?” barked the officer who'd been about to board
Esperanza
, his eyes intense.

"Sure thing,” Carlos replied, tossing the ropes across the widening space between the two boats. “Hope you get there in time."

"Yeah. So do we,” the officer answered as the motors roared to life. “Y'all have a safe trip now, hear?"

Carlos nodded and watched as they turned and sped away behind him, then opened the cabin door. “It's okay. They're gone,” he said.

Cassie took off the old straw hat. “What happened?"

"Nothing much, little lady,” he replied. “Let's just say that when the hounds are after you, it helps to throw them a rabbit."

Walter Spano sat down heavily on the couch and looked across the living room at his boss. “It all turned out fine, Hamilton,” he said. “In fact, it couldn't have been better if we planned it ourselves."

Hamilton Bates stared at him coldly for a long moment. “It could have turned out quite differently, though, Walter. I told you that Jonathon Sinclair had threatened me, yet you did nothing to prevent what could easily have been my death. As I recall, you
are
my Chief of Security...” He let his sentence go unfinished.

"Yes, sir. But, no one could have foreseen what occurred. I had him checked out, and, to all appearances, he was just a toothless old dog. Besides, he had essentially vanished from sight from the time he confronted you in the office until he forced his way in here last night.” He paused and sat up a little straighter. “And, like I said, it solves the Henshaw problem."

Henshaw deserves a medal, Bates thought. Instead, he's about to lose his career. And the ability to stick his nose where it doesn't belong. He nodded. “Yes, Walter, there is a positive side. But,” he paused, remembering the scene from last night, “I think you need to have a little talk with Busby, set him up with a, ah, refresher course. Jonathon should never have been able to get past him. And, considering that there are a lot of malcontents out there, I wouldn't want a repeat of last night's events."

"Roger. I'll see to it right away,” Walter replied and, standing, left the room.

Roger
. Bates frowned and studied the rare Ming vase on the mantelpiece across the room, listening to Spano's footsteps recede and fade away. Why must the future inevitably end up depending on knaves? he wondered, shaking his head.

Max walked May Lee to her front door, wishing there was something he could say or do to soothe her. But what could ease the pain of losing a son and being forced to return to a land she no longer considered home? As he held the door for her, she kissed him lightly on the cheek and went inside without a word. He shook his head and walked back to his car, pausing a moment to look around at the impoverished neighborhood. Compared to what awaited her in China, these small houses and postage-stamp yards would seem like mansions. Finally, he climbed into the car and backed out into the street.

Glancing back once more, he saw May Lee run out onto the porch and frantically wave a piece of paper at him. He rolled his window down and stopped the car. “What is it?"

"Just a minute, Max,” she called, hurrying across the yard to him. “I had a message from Miss Cassie on my machine. She said she'll be flying into Richmond tomorrow and for me to have Jonathon pick her up at the airport. What am I going to do? She didn't leave a number where we could reach her."