Isle Royale (14 page)

“I had to have something to remember you by,” he said hastily. “It saved my life. Look.” He turned the locket over, showing her a deep dent in the metal. “It deflected a bullet heading for my heart.”

Collene gulped. “Jean, I…”

“Have you ever been to Paris? It’s wonderful, Collene. Let me take you there.”

“No.”

“I’ve got money. Lots of it. After tonight’s job, I can take you off this cursed rock. Come with me to Paris, Collene.”

She stared at him, horrified. “You know I can’t.”

For a brief moment, hate burned in LeBeck’s eyes. “It’s him, isn’t it? That… lightkeeper.” He spat the word out with contempt.

“Jean,” Collene said, anxious for him to understand. “I couldn’t wait for you any longer. You were in Europe all those years.
You’re
the one who broke off the wedding, for God’s sake.”

“Only until I got better. I needed time, that’s all.”

“That’s not what you said in your letters. Besides, how long did you expect me to wait?”

LeBeck looked away. “You told me you’d marry me,” he said finally.

“Clarence was here for me, Jean. You weren’t.”

“But I’m here now,” he said, looking back into her eyes. “I love you, Collene. I want you back.”

“But why?” she asked, imploring him for an answer. LeBeck looked down at his shoes, unsure what to say. The conversation wasn’t going as he’d planned at all, and he was on the verge of panicking.

“Why do you want me now?” she insisted. “Look at me. Jean, look at me!” She cupped his chin and forced him to look her in the eyes. “I’m old. I’m a mother. You can have anyone you want. Why me?”

LeBeck snatched the locket back from her, gripping it in a tight fist. “Because you promised. You promised.”

It was Collene’s turn to look down. Her hand reached out, touching him on the chest.

“You should have waited for me, Collene,” he continued, nearly in tears now.

“I’m sorry, Jean. I don’t love you anymore.”

The words hit LeBeck like a shotgun to the chest. He stood there a moment, his face glazed with shock. He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it.

“I don’t love you,” Collene said again, slowly, deliberately. “I never will. You have to leave.”

Something snapped inside LeBeck then. It was as if someone had lowered a red curtain in his mind, clouding all his thoughts with rage and despair. “Then I’ll
make
you love me,” he said through clenched teeth. He shoved her roughly against the wall of the shed and pressed himself on her, crushing his lips to hers.

Collene tore her head to the side and grimaced. “Jean, no!” She struggled and tried to fight him off, but he responded by pinning her arms back. Collene snarled and brought a knee up into LeBeck’s groin. He grunted in pain, then slammed her back hard against the wall again.

“Make you love me!” he shouted. His face now contorted with a snarl, he groped for her dress, then tore it off one shoulder.

“No!” Collene shrieked.

Suddenly, emerging from the shadows, Ian leapt forward, pocketknife gripped firmly in his hand. “Get away from her, you bastard!”

LeBeck dodged to one side just as the knife swooped down, but Ian rammed the blade up to the hilt in LeBeck’s buttock. LeBeck howled in pain, dropping the locket to the ground.

“Ian!” screamed Collene. “Get out of here!”

Ian scooped up the locket in one swift motion, then grabbed LeBeck’s Tommy gun and fumbled with the cocking bolt. Sally, half-hidden in the shadows, crouched behind Ian, ready to run.

LeBeck roared and jerked the knife out of his flesh, then staggered forward toward Ian. “Give me that locket, boy!”

“Run!” Collene ordered.

“Give me that locket!”

As Ian stumbled backward, still struggling with the machine gun, LeBeck raised the knife high, ready to strike. Collene took a step forward, her eyes wild with fear.

“Jean, for God’s sake! No!”

LeBeck stopped and looked back at Collene. She stood still, hands out, pleading with her eyes. For one brief moment, the red veil lifted from his mind, and all the hate and self-loathing melted. He slowly lowered the knife.

Ian saw his chance and took off across the yard, with Sally following in close pursuit.

Startled at the sudden movement, LeBeck whirled and saw Ian running away, gun in one hand and locket in the other. The red veil returned. He scowled at Collene, then turned and limped after his prey.

Chapter Eighteen

I
an and Sally dashed across the compound, rain pelting their mackintoshes as they headed back toward the houses. Ian led the way, awkwardly trying to pull back the cocking bolt on the Tommy gun while at the same time trying to keep his feet from slipping on the wet grass. Halfway across the compound, Sally caught up with him and gripped his arm, halting him momentarily. “Where are you going?” she demanded, her breathing ragged.

“To the rescue!” Ian said, voice quavering, as he held up the machine gun, his false bravado further betrayed by his trembling hands gripping the weapon.

“With that?” Sally said incredulously. “You’ve never shot a gun before in your life!”

Ian finally managed to pull back the bolt. “There,” he said with satisfaction.

“We’re going to the Coast Guard station,” Sally said decisively, leaving no room for argument. “Come on.” She took off again, toward the tramcar at the end of the compound, then stopped when she realized Ian hadn’t followed. She turned and gestured impatiently.
“Come on!”

Ian stood there holding the gun, undecided. Suddenly, LeBeck emerged from the shadows, limping but moving quickly across the grass. His face was contorted like a wild animal, his hook hand waving through the air in front of him. He spotted Ian and gave a wolf-like grin. “I’m commin’ boy. I’m commin’ for you!”

Ian bolted like a rabbit, sprinting across the compound and quickly catching up with Sally. They rounded the corner of the shed marking the end of the tramway rail and surprised a thug standing guard.

Sally moved to the tramcar while Ian leveled his Tommy gun at the hoodlum. “On the ground,” he ordered. “Now!”

The thug, half-amused, raised his arms partway and feigned fright. “Now little boy,” he said sweetly, “Don’t shoot. Why don’t you just give me that gun?”

Ian thrust the muzzle forward, his trigger finger twitching. “I said get down!”

Ian squeezed the trigger and shot off a burst into the ground in front of the thug. The
rat-tat-tat
sound of the machine gun ripped through the air, and the force of the blast nearly knocked Ian off his feet. Several shots went astray as the muzzle jumped up in Ian’s hand. Finally he let go of the trigger and stood there, wide-eyed.

“Okay! Okay!” shouted the terrified thug, dropping to his knees. His beady eyes darted back and forth, watching for an opening.

Sally grabbed Ian by the arm and yanked him away. “On the tram. Quick.”

The pair tumbled onto the flatbed tramcar. Sally disengaged the chain, then kicked away the emergency brake. The car started its free-fall descent and quickly gathered speed.

“This is nuts!” Ian shouted over the wind.

LeBeck and another thug rounded the corner of the shed and saw the tramcar accelerating away down the hill. Ian and Sally ducked down as the thug whipped out a pistol and began shooting. Bullets ricocheted off several boxes stacked at the trailing edge of the tramcar.

Ignoring the pain from his stab wound, LeBeck worked up a burst of speed and gave chase. Sprinting down the hill, limping and wincing in pain, he leapt and fell heavily on the very edge of the tram, his feet dragging behind him.

“The locket!” he roared.

Sally screamed as LeBeck reached up and snared her hair, trying to pull her off the speeding tramcar. The ground whizzed by in a dizzying blur.

Ian aimed the Tommy gun, but couldn’t risk shooting as Sally and LeBeck struggled and twisted. He set down the gun and reached inside one of the crates. He found a store of lake trout, brought earlier by Captain Ben, still packed in ice. He gripped a ten-pounder by the tail, hauled off, and with a sickening smack hit LeBeck full in the face. LeBeck screamed as he lost his grip and fell, tumbling off the side into the darkness.

Sally pointed downhill. “We’re gonna crash!”

“Should have thought about that before we started!”

They careened around a curve in the track, the car nearly coming up off two wheels. They zoomed past a storage shed midway down the path, then entered the steepest section of the hill, the last descent to the dock and the steam engine shack at the end of the line.

Down below, Ian and Sally could make out a gang of thugs at the bottom of the hill, waiting for them with machine guns and pistols.

“Sal!” Ian yelled, pointing just ahead. “The tree! Now!”

As the car streaked by, the two teenagers leapt up and gripped an overhanging tree branch. The car rushed by underneath them, zooming crazily down the tracks. Sally actually managed to hang on to the branch, but Ian, thanks to their momentum and the wet bark, lost his grip and tumbled headlong to the ground.

Sally let go of the branch, dropped to the ground and rushed over to her friend. Ian sat up, groaning, his raincoat torn, and rubbed his head and backside.

“You okay?” she asked, helping him to his feet.

“The woods,” he said, shaking his head to ward off the daze he was feeling. “Come on.”

They moved off into the cover of the trees.

At first, the thugs on the beach could only hear the runaway tramcar. With a screeching, metallic roar it came whizzing down the tracks at breakneck speed, like a bat out of hell. Several men at the bottom of the rail line opened fire, hoping to shoot whatever crazy person was responsible. Then, as it emerged from the rain and mist, they saw the car racing downward, an unstoppable beast of metal and wood.

The tramcar whizzed by the last section of track, then crashed into the engine shed, which exploded in a hail of sparks and splintered wood.

The thugs went berserk, screaming and scattering in disarray like a colony of ants whose nest had just been stepped on.

Once more Ian and Sally found themselves fleeing through the woods. Ian couldn’t believe he was stumbling over the stone-and-root-covered terrain twice on the same stormy night. At least this time he had a clear mission. Get help and rescue his family, and Sally’s, from that bastard LeBeck.

They set off eastward, away from shore and toward the ridge they’d arrived on. It would be a long trek, but it was the quickest way to the Coast Guard station at Rock Harbor, except by boat, and that was out of the question the way Lake Superior was behaving tonight.

Just as Ian was wondering if they’d even arrive at Rock Harbor by dawn, and if perhaps they shouldn’t try the boat after all, a huge gust of wind blew through the forest. A tree, a tall aspen, no more than twenty yards in front of them, bent sharply. Then they heard a crack like cannon fire, and the tree toppled to the ground with a thunderous crash.

Ian and Sally looked at each other, wide-eyed. “Guess we won’t be taking the boat for sure?” surmised Ian, bracing himself against the ever-increasing wind.

“Got that right,” said Sally. “Let’s move.”

They set out, stepping carefully over the fallen tree. They walked a few more yards into the forest when suddenly a man appeared from behind a tree in front of them. He carried a green lantern, which cast an eerie shadow over his aged, craggy face. Ian and Sally stopped dead in their tracks, open-mouthed.

“Captain Ben!” Ian blurted out.

Ben put a finger to his lips, then whispered to them. “Follow me, kids. Maybe we’ll make it out of this pickle you’ve gotten yourselves into.”

Ben moved quickly and stealthily through the woods, green lantern swinging at his side. After a moment’s hesitation, Ian and Sally plunged into the forest after him. They followed his lead the best they could, at times struggling to keep up with the old mariner. Ben obviously knew his way around the island.

After several minutes of tripping over hidden paths and moose trails, and on several occasions bushwhacking straight through thick, seemingly impenetrable foliage, Ben eventually led them quietly to the shoreline at the base of the cliffs, not far from the dock where the thugs were still running amok in panic and confusion.

Ben set his lantern down and then set to work on a pile of sticks and branches, uncovering a small, single-masted dinghy. He quietly slid it into the water, then turned to Ian and Sally. “This’ll be a rough ride, but we’ll make it. Come on, in with you.”

Sally looked at the churning waves attacking the shore, then felt a blast of wind tearing at her. “I don’t think so,” she said.

“Come on,” Ben said, waving them on. “It’s the only way.”

“This is completely crazy,” she muttered.

“No kidding,” said Ian, moving past her. “Let’s go.”

The two teenagers hopped into the little boat and crouched down in the bow. Ben hoisted the sail and the dinghy took off with a jerk. Almost immediately, a large wave crashed over them, nearly swamping the boat and causing Sally and Ian to cry out in fear.

On the nearby shore, the gang of thugs heard the screaming, even over the roar of the waves. They spotted the dinghy and opened fire with their weapons, but by then the dinghy had sailed out of range of all but the best shot, and the thugs on shore were mediocre marksmen at best.

Ben handed Ian the rope controlling the end of the sail as he took his seat in the aft of the dinghy, gripping the rudder with strong, weathered hands. “Hold this,” he commanded.

Ben was forced to talk loud over the roaring wind. Waves hurled them up and down in the water, spray stinging their eyes, the cold water sending shock waves through their bodies. The worst part was the sideways rolling motion as they sailed parallel to the shore. Soon, Ian was ready to heave his guts up. After a few more minutes, he turned an interesting shade of green, then leaned over the side and emptied his stomach into the lake.

“The Lady’s mighty angry tonight,” said Ben, ignoring Ian’s retching. “We can’t beach the boat on these rocks. We’ll smash up.”