Ocean Burning (14 page)

It had taken a bit of doing to convince Ben Hawking that I was not all Carmen had made me out to be. He’d fought the idea at first, but never underestimate just how far
not
killing someone will get you, especially when you’re supposed to be a bank-robbing, back-stabbing, murdering son of a bitch. Eventually, he had sat down on the sand and heard me out.

I had gone into detail. I had been convincing.

“I’ll kill her,” he said, his laughter suddenly fading away.

“I thought you loved her.”

“I did.” His eyes seemed cold, like oily black rocks sliding around in his skull. He stared flatly at me, as though that explained everything.

And of course, it did.

“Nothing like a lover scorned,” I said.

“Damn right.” He jumped to his feet, pacing furiously up and down the water line, stopping every so often to cast that oily look out to sea, out towards the
Purple
.

“Killing her though—” I trailed off. I’d known Carmen a long time.

“Tell you what: we’ll give her the same treatment she gave us. We’ll give her a chance.”

I nodded.

“How do you think it was supposed to play out exactly?” he asked.

“Think of it from the point-of-view of some investigator—the police, someone working for the bank, whoever,” I said. “The paperwork’s probably been fudged well enough that they’ll only realize the money’s missing around now, or maybe not even for a couple days.”

“Invoices,” he said, slapping a hand to his forehead. “When we move money around, it’s like any other shipment—it comes with a bill of lading, listing what’s supposed to be in there. But for security reasons, the bank manager has to be present when the money actually gets counted, to make sure it’s all there. Until then it sits, unopened, in the vault.”

“So?”

“So it’s a hassle. Money comes in and out all the time, and the counting takes a while. We can’t have a manager down in the vault all day, so counting is done once a week.”

“So there’s a gap where the money the computer says the bank has, and the amount it actually has, could be different,” I said slowly.

“Exactly.”

“But wouldn’t someone notice? I mean, when they refill the cash drawers, or if someone asks for a big withdrawal. “

“That’s the brilliant part. The bank there gets a normal shipment every week, and that fulfills their needs. What she did, I think, is sent
more
money, not less. The invoice they get reads for their normal amount, but she changed their order on our end, in Nevada, for an extra half-million. Or whatever it is.”

I whistled under my breath. I’d been expecting a number like that—I’d seen the cash with my own eyes, after all—but hearing the words still thrilled me.

“Sounds like a lot, I know,” he said, “but she was smart. It’s peanuts to a bank, nothing that would raise any eyebrows. Meanwhile, she forged the invoice on the other side, so that it read just their regular order. Banco United thought they had received exactly what they asked for.”

“When in reality, there’s an extra half-million just sitting on the shelves.”

“Bingo. As long as she could get it out before they counted it…” he trailed off.

“They’d never even know anything was missing,” I finished for him. “Could she have arranged for Rigger and Carlos to get inside?”

“Sure. I have everything they’d need, and I trusted her. Jesus,” he muttered, his face slack in admiration. “It’s brilliant. It’s like a robbery with the consequences on delay. Until Nevada realizes the money’s not showing up in their computer, and they call, no one is going to be looking for her.”

“It gets worse,” I said. “The plan is even better than you think. The plan is that no one ever looks for her, even after they realize it’s missing.”

He looked at me quizzically, and I got to see that look admiration melt into something very much like fear. He trembled slightly, like I had after my one and only car accident, when I had sensed so clearly my own mortality. “Because we’ll be missing,” he said finally.

I nodded. “I think the plan was for the boats to meet, and then to kill us both. After that they would have split up into two groups. Carmen would have taken Rigger and Carlos’s boat back to dock, gone back to the hotel, then called Nevada acting worried to say she hadn’t seen you in a few days. Meanwhile, Rigger and Carlos take the
Purple
and leave it somewhere it will be found. Possibly north to the States, but that could be tricky. Probably south to Guatemala or El Salvador. They leave the boat and take off. Someone will find it and report it eventually.”

“And they’ll realize we’re missing.”

“Not missing—gone. On the run. The vice-president of the bank that was robbed, oh so conveniently on vacation nearby, and a washed-up charter boat captain, desperate for money, who has a record of being arrested for counterfeiting.”

“Yeah, she told me about that,” he said.

“Did she tell you that she was the one who set it up?”

“Shit. Really?”

“So don’t feel too bad. I was ready to leave you on this rock. At least she didn’t fool you twice. I’m an idiot.”

“She’s a beautiful woman,” he said, wistful.

“And, as it turns out, an ice cold grifter.”

He glanced out at the ocean again, as though she might be right there. “They never would have found her out,” he said. “They’d have been looking for us, and they’d never find us either, because we’d be at the bottom of the ocean. It’s a perfect exit strategy.”

“Think of like this: if it hadn’t been for that storm, we’d both have slit throats. Or worse, a hole in the chest like the other guy.”

“What other guy?”

“I forgot about that. There was a third one of them, on the boat that sank. He was already dead though. Shotgun to the chest, it looked like.”

Hawking flopped into the sand, lay on his back, smoothed his hair, put his hands behind his head. “But in the end, it doesn’t matter, does it? They can still drop Carmen off at the marina, then head south. You and I are stuck on this island, and we’ll die here, and the tide will take our bodies and that will be that. She wins.”

I pointed. A hundred yards down the beach, our rubber landing craft had washed up of its own accord. It still floated, which meant the damage couldn’t be too bad.

“We’ve got the raft,” I said, “and enough gas in the two-stroke engine to run it for a couple hours.”

“Which get us where? Another empty beach?”

“How about back to the
Purple
?”

He laughed, a sharp, crisp bark. “You’re dreaming. I mean, we agree that gas hose being eaten away was a ploy, right? Just something to buy a bit of time to figure out their new one-boat plan.”

I nodded.

“Then they’ve got a spare ready to go. No way they’d actually strand themselves just for an effect. It probably got put in about a minute after we jumped into the raft together.” He kicked at the sand again. “And as soon at they stopped laughing at how easy it was, the anchors got pulled up, and they left. Even with just a few canteens of water, they can make shore in less than eight hours. They’re long gone, Frank.”

“Not exactly,” I said, and reached into my pocket, then pulled out my hand. I held it out and opened it. Centered on my palm was a piece of metal, round and flat, like a thick, oversized coin. Out of the top jutted five long, hollow tubes. It gave the impression of a steam-punk crown designed for a very small midget.

“What is it?”

“The distributor cap for the engine. I pulled it out late last night, right after I cracked the water tank.”

Just a hint of smile started to make its way across Ben’s mouth. “So you didn’t trust her completely,” he said.

“Are you kidding me? She had me hook, line, and sinker. In fact, I was so worried about her—about the possibility that Rigger might get antsy and try to leave—that I thought I better take out some insurance.”

“So you did it for her?”

“What can I say? She’s a victim of her own success.”

His smile turned into a full-blown grin, and then threw back his head and laughed.

“They’re not going anywhere,” I said, “not without this.”

“If you’re suggesting that we go get your boat back, I love it. More than that, what choice do we have? It’s the only way to get home.”

I was beginning to like Ben Hawking. “Couldn’t agree more,” I said.

“So now what?”

“We wait. They’ll be desperate for even a tiny sip of water after a long day in the sun. And tonight, when they’re thirsty and tired, we’ll make our move.”

I gestured, and Ben leaned in.

Using a small twig dug out of the sand, I sketched out my plan. By the end of it, he was practically rubbing is hands together in glee. He could hardly wait. For that matter, neither could I.

We had to pass the time somehow, so we flipped the raft back over and tied it up so it couldn’t go anywhere. I tested the motor, which ran fine. For the rest of the day, we filled the water jugs and tied them into the raft, then swam in the fresh water pool and lazed in the sun. I pictured those thirsty bastards out there on my boat, and took great joy in sucking down immense mouthfuls from the waterfall. I drank until I thought I would burst, then drank some more. It was a kind of petty, remote vengeance, over-satiating my thirst, but it filled a void other than my stomach. Deep down inside, it culled my blood lust.

At least for the time being.

The explosive emotions I’d been experiencing slowed their progress, some stopping entirely, until the only thing left was hatred set to a low simmer. Filled to the brim with a dark, throbbing energy that felt inexhaustible, I closed my eyes, and waited for darkness.

Chapter 15

BLACK WATER SLAPPED the raft’s rubber sides. I twisted the engine throttle counterclockwise until the motor coughed softly. It was dangerously close to stalling out, and I hoped it wouldn’t cut out too early.

Ben and I were skimming over deep ocean, a couple hundred yards out past the cove’s narrow entrance. Clearing the cove, that had been the dicey part. Crashing into the rocks once was enough for me, and I was pretty sure Ben felt the same way. It was amazing our little raft was still chugging along. I patted the rubber side nearest me, thankful for small miracles. She’d taken a licking and kept on ticking.

A waning crescent hung in the sky, periodically obscured by wispy black clouds. No stars visible. To the east of us, dawn began to pink the horizon. The light level was ideal—enough to navigate by, but no so much that we would be visible coming across the waves.

The wind gusted us off course, and I corrected. I’d been counting on that as well: the wind created swells, the swells banged against the
Purple’s
sides, and while it wouldn’t be loud, one wouldn’t call it quiet either. They’d never hear a little two-stroke engine coming.

Or so I hoped.

As a precaution, I planned to cut the engine long before we got there. My eyes strained for details in the distance. I had navigated this far by dead reckoning, which is to say I was relying on years of experience and excellent seamanship. Which is to say, I was counting on my gut.

I craned my head back, searching for a gap in the clouds. I’d been expecting something celestial to serve as a guide, either stars or a planet like Venus, but the cloud cover stayed obstinately in place, a gray-black drop ceiling pressing down on us.

My gut tingled at me, shot waves pressure up my spine to the base of my skull. It was a sense of recognition. Something seemed familiar. The decision came quickly, on instinct. I twisted the throttle all the way off. The engine quit, the prop stopped turning, but inertia carried us onward.

I gestured to Ben, who crouched in the bow, trying to stay low and dry. He crept over to me, keeping his center of gravity low, and we grabbed each others shoulders. Carefully, we dosey doed—switched places—and I crab-walked up to the bow. My shoes popped off easily, then I wiggled out of my pants and the light jacket I’d been wearing since the morning. Together, we lifted the long plastic oars out of their recesses and placed them in the oar locks. I managed to start pulling us along before all of our momentum was wasted.

SMACK.

I’d tried to dip them gently, but the flat of an oar clapped the crest of a wave. Ben gestured to me, lowing his hands palm down, the universal signal to keep it quiet. I thought about giving him the finger, then realized my hands were occupied.

I slashed at the water a few more times before finding my rhythm. The Kodiak climbed and descended the waves in relative silence after that. Only the hiss of the waves themselves filled the air.

According to the plan, Ben’s job at this point was to spot the
Purple
and direct us onto it. The position of the oarlocks meant I faced backwards and couldn’t see where we were headed. But now I doubted he could see anything either on a night light this. It disgusted me to imagine our plan disintegrating so early in its execution, but weather was weather. Nothing to be done about it.

Briefly, I thought of the Spanish Armada, so very well placed to defeat the English. All it took to turn their tide was one unlucky storm. I tried not to think about that anymore. The plan was a risk, but no more so than staying on the island without a radio or food. I craned my neck and stared over Ben’s shoulder into the black and forced myself to think good thoughts about nothing but victory, and put my back into the oars.

We’ll need a miracle, through,
I thought.

Just then, Ben pointed. I glanced over my shoulder, and caught a glimpse of something yellow rising and falling in the distance.

“They’re running the lights,” I hissed.

Ben just nodded at me, his face tight. I could tell he was thinking about what he had to do. He looked nervous.

“Don’t worry about the plan,” I said to him.

His brow furrowed, a question.

“If they’ve been running the battery all night, we’ll all die here no matter what happens.” I grinned wolfishly, and it came from the heart. The tempo of my hatred and disgust picked up. The closer we got, the less I cared for myself. I wanted Carmen to pay.