Read Tahoe Ghost Boat (An Owen McKenna Mystery Thriller) Online
Authors: Todd Borg
Gower stared ahead at the black lake. Light from the burning castle behind us flickered on the inside of the windshield.
“Lassitor tweaked his facial recognition software to look for the shape of a small chest,” I said. “It was a great idea, and it yielded the results you wanted over a week ago.”
Gower looked crazed.
“But of course, Lassitor kept that secret from Mikhailo. Lassitor put the location on the flash drive, which is now in my pocket.”
Gower turned toward me. He lifted up his gun. Even with the dim cabin lights, I saw his finger tighten on the trigger.
“Give it to me,” he said.
SIXTY-FIVE
“I won’t give you the flash drive. You can shoot me dead, but you’ll have to roll back down your ramp and come get it out of my pocket yourself. In the meantime, my blood will be making a big mess all over your nice boat. How are you going to explain that to the police? And if you don’t shoot me, I go and find the chest and keep the gold for myself.”
I saw movement in my peripheral vision. I turned just the smallest amount. Street was shaking her head in a way that was minimal, almost unnoticeable, but also frantic. She sensed that I was pushing Gower too far.
Gower took a deep breath and spoke, his own rage just beneath the surface.
“Lassitor died in the fire, right?” he said.
I didn’t know what Gower knew. Maybe Gower had a hidden webcam in Lassitor’s room so he could keep an eye on him. Maybe he saw the whole thing. I decided the truth might be the best distraction from his mission.
“Yeah. I tried to save him, but Mikhailo killed him with a splitting maul.”
“I’m so glad to hear that,” Gower said. “I hope he suffered. Tell me that he really suffered. I can die in peace.”
“Yeah, he suffered.”
“Lassitor was the worst person I’ve ever known,” Gower said. “A natural predator. One of the first patent trolls. I was one of his first victims. He sued me for patent infringement, citing obscure aspects of one of the patents he bought cheap. He had no case, but he didn’t choose me based on the merits of the case. He chose me based on my business assets.”
Gower turned and looked at me. On his face was pure hatred.
“At the time he sued me, I had invested nearly all of my money in my business. It was a big risk that many entrepreneurs take, trying to grow their sales. I could have brought in outside investors and spread the risk, but I didn’t want to lose control of the company I’d started. I even mortgaged my Tahoe house, which has been in my family for three generations.
“Along comes Lassitor suing me for twenty million for infringement damages. I had about about eight million in cash, and two million of that came from the mortgage I’d taken out on my house. Every cell in my brain was screaming that it was an illegitimate suit, that I would win in court. Even my lawyer told me that I could possibly win in court, but that the litigation might cost twenty million and many years. Lassitor said that he would settle the case for eight million. How he knew that was the amount I had, I have no idea.
“My lawyer said it was a no-brainer. That I should give that thief the money because it would be less costly in the end. He said that settling would leave me solvent. Not settling would bankrupt me. It was the most revolting money grab, the most audacious theft that I’d ever heard of. And it was all legal. Legal theft. It’s hundreds of times more lucrative than robbing a bank, and it’s legal! And Lassitor chose me not because my thermostats really infringed on his patents, but because I didn’t have enough funds to fight the lawsuit! He knew I’d settle!”
Gower was breathing as if he’d just sprinted a quarter mile.
“So I paid. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I still had my company, but I was broke, and I still owed two million on my mortgage.” Gower’s eyes looked demonic, the lower lids raised up over the bottoms of his irises.
“Nasty business,” I said.
“That’s just the beginning. Two months after the settlement, I found out that Lassitor bought the castle next door to me. He used my money to buy that castle! When I told him he was scum, he just grinned and said, ‘Hey, buddy, no hard feelings. Lawsuits are just business. We can still be personal friends.’ I almost killed him right then and there. I remember, I was holding a tree-trimming saw, and I wanted take his head off with it.”
“I understand,” I said.
“It gets even worse. A thousand times worse.” Gower was shaking. “I had a wife and daughter. They were both sweethearts. They were everything in the world to me, all I ever wanted, all I ever really cared about. It was for them that I settled the lawsuit. It was because of them that I couldn’t bear to lose everything fighting the lawsuit.”
“I heard they died in the car accident,” I said. “And you were paralyzed.”
“Go ahead and say the rest,” Gower said. “That I was driving. Say it.”
“I didn’t know that,” I said. “I just heard about the result.”
Gower’s hands were white-knuckled on the yacht’s wheel. I wondered if this would be a good time to make a grab for the gun. I might have risked it had I been alone. But I couldn’t with Street and Gertie in the mix.
“I was driving,” Gower said. “When we left home, I pulled out of our driveway and turned toward Lassitor’s. I accelerated normally. I wasn’t going fast. I was only at the speed limit. Maybe a little more. As we approached the entrance to Lassitor’s, he came flying out from his driveway. Lassitor was always a lead foot. He must have been going forty or fifty down his own driveway. He didn’t appear to slow down at all. In the past, I’d seen him skid out onto the highway without stopping and almost without slowing. This looked like one of those times. It scared me so much that I swerved away. At the last moment, Lassitor slammed on his brakes. He came to a stop right before the highway.”
Gower’s voice was loud, almost a plaintive whine.
“But it was too late for us. As I swerved, it made our car skid. We veered into the oncoming lane. We were struck head-on by a bus-sized RV.”
Gower went silent. The only sound was the rumble of the big engine below us.
“I told the cops what happened,” he continued. “I told my lawyer. They all agreed that there was likely no law that Lassitor broke. They didn’t think reckless driving applied on his own property. My lawyer said I could sue Lassitor in civil court, but he didn’t think I’d win. After all, Lassitor had stopped. Even I admitted that. And I’m the one who swerved. My lawyer pointed out that Lassitor had the funds to defend against such a suit, while I did not have the funds to pursue it.”
“You had lots of reasons to hate Lassitor,” I said. “It must have been crushing.”
“No one understands! When a sociopath destroys you, takes away everything that ever mattered, and does it with a grin, no one will ever understand what that’s like.”
Gower stopped to catch his breath. His chest heaved.
“This wasn’t about getting money for me,” he continued. “This was about taking from Lassitor. This was about revenge. Justice. Payback. This was about making him work for my gain instead of him stealing everything I had.”
“So you found Mikhailo to exact your revenge?”
Gower nodded, his breath slowing a bit.
“It was so easy,” he said. “You post on certain Internet sites. You work through emails, always changing the email address and signing in through a virtual private network, which makes them impossible to trace. After arranging a couple of substantial, anonymous payments, you can get a psycho like Mikhailo to do anything in the world just on your request.
“Of course, Mikhailo never knew my real name even though I’d learned his. We never even met. He thinks he was hired by a guy in Montana, an ex-business associate of Lassitor’s. He thinks I’m just the old guy neighbor who runs a thermostat business in Carson Valley and is sometimes up at the lake house. I even told him through email where to steal the boat to use to drown you.”
“But that’s no reason to take it out on us. Gertie and Street had nothing to do with Lassitor’s actions. You’ve already tried to have Gertie killed. For what purpose? She never hurt you.”
“I came through the secret door once when Mikhailo and his men were gone. She was in a different room than I anticipated. I thought she saw me through the door. I couldn’t risk her identifying me later.” Gower focused on the black lake ahead. He made a steering adjustment.
“My wife and daughter were everything!” Gower was panting. He shouted, “Do you hear me?! Lassitor took them away! Nothing matters anymore!”
Gower picked up the gun from his lap, raised it up and aimed it at me.
“No!” Street shouted.
I slowly raised my hand toward Street and Gertie, palm out. I spoke in low tones.
“Think before you pull the trigger, Gower. You’ll make a mess. Go back to your plan and you might pull this off.”
Gower’s hand and gun shook. Not with the stress of holding up a gun, but from anger and rage.
I said, “I’ve got a friend who talks about the value of a plan. She’s a softball pitcher. She says that you can pull off nearly anything if you have a plan and follow it. But if you ignore your plan, you’ll mess it all up. Her plan made her a great pitcher. It’s amazing what she can do with a softball.”
“Shut up!” Gower shouted. “Don’t talk mush-brain psycho-babble with me! The only thing worse than losing Jeanette and Marianne is when someone like you tries to soften it with gushy nonsense. I’m done with you, McKenna!” He reached up his other hand and gripped the gun with both hands, steadying it on my face. His right finger was tensing when an orange blur cut a horizontal line from the back of the boat’s saloon.
The orange struck Gower’s hands so hard that the gun flew out of his grip in an explosion of orange pulp and crashed on the instrument panel. Nearly grinning because Gertie had taken my cue, I rushed Gower, but he was faster. He leaned and was grabbing the gun when another orange struck it, bouncing it out of his reach. Like a practiced soldier, Gower didn’t slow down. He pulled a knife out of his pocket. But he never got a chance to raise it up as a third orange exploded against his temple, knocking him forward in his wheelchair.
I got to Gower, jammed my right elbow into his chest, pinning him back against the wheelchair. I pulled the knife from his grip and threw it over to the other side of the boat. I pushed him and the chair back and got in front of him so that I could grab both arms. He fought like a young man, slugging me. A fourth orange hit the back of his head so hard, his face slammed into my chest.
He was stunned. His head lolled.
A fifth orange hit the lower back of his neck. It was like a shot from a cannon, faster than I could imagine a ball being pitched. The impact on his neck was savage. It snapped Gower’s neck forward, leaving his head to jerk back in whiplash. The blow turned him a bit.
The next orange was harder still, hitting him behind his ear so hard that his body flew forward and sideways, pitching him out of his wheelchair where he collapsed on the floor.
I bent down.
“Make it stop,” he cried in a weak voice. “I give up. I’m finished.” He was crying. “Make it stop. Please.” He was pleading. Whimpering defeat. “Tell your pitcher she has won.”
EPILOGUE
“I was pleased to read that both Denell and Galant are going to make it,” I said. “The Herald said over eight hundred people attended the fundraiser.”
Diamond nodded. “Good men. They brought Denell out of induced coma three days ago, and Galant just yesterday. Denell is already saying a few words, and Galant won’t be far behind. Doc Lee told me that it’s even possible they’ll both make complete recoveries, although it might take a year or three and a whole lotta therapy.”
We’d driven up to Incline Village and were in the main room of the Sierra Nevada College Library, a beautiful and warm dramatic space with lots of wooden architectural components.
“Is Denell’s wife holding together?”
“Hard to know,” he said. “Having to be strong for their kid will help.”
“The paper also said that in addition to the account for medical expenses, the boy’s college scholarship fund was already up to thirty thousand.”
Another nod. Diamond looked around the library. “Nice crowd assembling,” he said, obviously wanting to change the subject.
The people coming in the door ranged from college kids in jeans and ski jackets to adults in jeans and ski jackets. Through the various groups trotted Spot, moving quickly, causing a few gasps, as he explored the space. Following him was the school employee who was trying tentatively and without success to get him to go outside.
“Lot of people in jeans and ski jackets,” I said.
“Number one ski racing school in the country,” Diamond said. He pointed to a distinguished-looking older couple. The woman wore a floor-length black coat. Black leather boots with heels poked out beneath the coat. She had silver hair and gold earrings with inset obsidian jewels as black as the coat. Her partner wore a matching black trench coat. The collar was open revealing a white shirt, black bow tie, and black suit jacket.
“Heading for the San Francisco Opera and made a wrong turn,” Diamond said.
“Looks like it,” I said. I saw Gertie at the other end of the room. She stood with her mother Nadia on one side and Street on the other. Nadia was wearing jeans and a simple blouse. Even from a distance, I could see that she didn’t have her standard layer of heavy makeup. I’d never seen her looking so ordinary.
Sergeant Santiago walked in, stomped snow off his shoes, saw us, came over.
“So something good came out of the kidnapping,” he said.
“Sí,” Diamond said.
Santiago looked around. “Is this a dry event? I’m not on duty.”
Diamond turned to an elegant woman who was wearing a long red dress and carrying a glass of red wine.
“Excusez-moi, madame,” he said, “s’il vous plaît pouvez-vous me dire où trouver le vin rouge?”
She grinned. “A noble attempt,” she said. “If you weren’t wearing a Douglas County Sheriff’s jacket, and if your syntax weren’t a bit scrambled, I would have been taken in. Come to think of it, I’m taken in anyway.” She pointed to a table in the corner with a plethora of wine bottles and glasses, then grinned again before she walked away.