The Journalist (24 page)

“Pinko basteeds.”

“Where?”

“Where who?”

“Where is Joe?”

“To Bimini, Pi guy say Brown’s Marina, go to
quick.”

“But

”

“But what? You confuse me, I don’t know
nothing

go

busy as
a one-arm man in an ass-kicking contest.”

Chapter Thirty Six

2:45 p.m.
EST

Nonchalantly strolling back from the pay
phone to Jim, Zack dragged the last life from a Camel and flipped
the butt to the parking lot surface. Thoughts bounced around in his
mind: Joe Case

Bimini Road

The Tea Company

It’s a
fairy tale, a dream

But then, I’m
getting better at dreams or

Lewis
Carroll’s Tweedledee truism is right: “Contrariwise, if it was so,
it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn’t, it
ain’t. That’s logic.”

He stepped to Jim. “Jimbo, Tweedledee was
right.”

Jim squinted his eyes.

You okay?


“‘If it was so, it might be; and if it were
so, it would be; but as it isn’t, it ain’t.’ It’s the logic that
gets the world in trouble every time.”

“What?”

“One-arm man in an ass-kicking contest.”

“It’s one-legged man.”

“I want you to listen to me carefully and
tell me where I’m wrong, okay?”

“I usually do.”

“Walk with me,” Zack said.

They began a slow stroll around the shopping
mall. “A friend of mine has sent me a message.”

“The fax?”

“Yes

and we need to
go to Bimini, tonight.”

Jim stopped and studied Zack. “Say again,
Bwana?”

“I have a funny feeling that something very
big is going on and that we need to go to Bimini, tonight.”

“That’s what I thought you said.”

“Something big is going on.”

Jim laughed. “Zackary, what’s the joke?”

“Joe Case, former Bimini Road restaurateur,
wants to see me.”

“What?” Jim swallowed, choked, coughed. “That
crackpot jerk

”

“He’s the ‘J.C.’ in the fax message.”

“Zackary, please, I lost you.”

“The ‘JC’ in the fax is Joe Case, he’s
relocated to Bimini.”

“Wait a minute.” Jim stepped back.

“Keep it down, act like we’re just
chatting.”

Eyes squinted, Jim wiped his lips. “I knew
you were starting to forget things, but full-blown Alzheimer’s
coupled with paranoia—I didn’t think you were this far gone.”

Zack stepped closer to him. “Listen to me,
this is serious.”

Jim chuckled. “Yes, indeed, Alzheimer’s
coupled with paranoia is very serious

”

“Jim, think about that fax for a minute. What
is now happening on Main Street U.S.A., the big picture, the past
twenty-four hours?”

“I’m not following you, Bwana.” He put a hand
on Zack’s shoulder. “Zackary, ol’ boy, it’s nothing to be ashamed
of. Let me get you to a doctor.”

Zack brushed off his hand. “This is not
funny.”

“Zackary, will you stop for a minute? Listen
to yourself. Joe Case is crazy as a bedbug in a French
bordello.”

“Will you look at me?”

Jim stared into Zack’s eyes. After a moment,
he said, “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“We have to go to Bimini, tonight.”

“Zackary, how

? I
mean

we can’t just take off and go to
Bimini. I mean

damn, man.”

“Last time I saw Joe Case the said
something

”

“Zackary, Joe Case is nuttier than my
mother’s Christmas fruitcakes.”

“He’s found something.”

“Dementia praecox, and you caught it.”

“Sometimes I think that would be easier.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“You said that already. Yes, very.”

“But I don’t get it.”

“Don’t try, I’ll explain to you later. We’re
going to Bimini, tonight.”

“You might be going to Bimini, Bwana, but
this black ass is staying in Miami.”

“Nice try, and you did, and we’re going to
Bimini, tonight.”

“How

I mean, how do
you propose

?” He stopped as the thought
hit him–Veracity. “Oh no, no, I’m not going to Bimini in that tub
of yours.”

“Are you referring to
Veracity
?”

“None other.”

“Massa, how could you.”

“Sorry.”

“I wouldn’t think of putting
Veracity
’s elegance through the strain. Besides, they’re
probably watching her. We need something fast and loose, a
bullet.”

“Oh, my God.”

“We drive to Fisherman’s Marina. It’s south
of Homestead Bay Park, I know Buddy Bone, the owner. Rent, borrow,
beg his
Top Gun
.”

“What’s that?”

“Cigarette boat.”

“Oh, my God. Look, I want you to see a
shrink, I know a good

”

“Listen to me, this fax is not a coincidence.
The way this thing has evolved, the video, Benny, I feel it in my
bones.”

“Skull and crossbones

”

“We could be under surveillance right now.”
Zack looked skyward. “Satellites, drones, they can read the writing
on a nun’s underwear.”

“Holy

listen,
Zackary, they say the first sign of Alzheimer’s can be
paranoia.”

“Who says?”

“Some interview I saw, a TV talk show.”

“Say no more.” Zack put his hand on Jim’s
shoulder. “When we go back to my office, act like nothing unusual
is going on. I’ll say you’re going to keep digging on the cover-up
angle to this blasted video story, then leave. Okay?”

Jim nodded his head in disbelief. “I don’t
believe this.”

“I don’t believe many things. Now, I’m going
to that pay phone to pretend to make another call

”

“Pretend

Zackary,
I

”

“Relax. When I return we go back to the
office, tell Ted and Mary we checked out the fax, a former
of-the-cloth classmate of mine playing games

nothing to it”

“That’s the truth.”

“Act like nothing happened. Do some work.
Hang around, then you leave, say you are going to check out some
leads at the mayor’s office, something. I’ll leave with Ted so it
looks like nothing out of the ordinary

I’ll
tell him what’s going on, have him drive me to the Jabberwocky,
take my car to
Veracity,
he can stay on board tonight.”

“Oh, my God

”

“You have your passport?”

“It’s at home.”

“When you leave, go home and get it. I’ll
meet you at Jabberwocky, six o’clock. Are you listening to me?”

“Yes.”

“At Jabberwocky, come in so I’ll know you’re
there, go in a corner somewhere, when you see Ted leave, you leave,
I’ll meet you in parking lot at your car

we’ll be at Fisherman’s Marina less than an
hour

get Bone’s
Top Gun,
be in
Bimini in no time.”

Jim cupped his face with both hands. “You
really are serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Dead.”

“Don’t say that.”

“You’re in good hands.”

“Oh, my god, Zackary, no kidding, the stress,
please let me get you to a shrink.”

“Jimbo, I want you to think about what has
happened yesterday and today, in just twenty-four short hours, and
tell me what you think is going on.”

Jim put his hands on his hips. “How ’bout a
couple of white cops, dealing in drugs, prostitution, snuff a
sister who tries to stiff them?”

“What about the Lincoln, Hertz rental, what
Mary said about the dead ringer?”

“Okay, so the cops are involved in a bigger
operation.”

“What about Benny, his martial law bull
shit?”

“He’s just trying to do his duty, his
job.”

“That is too easy an answer and you know
it.”

“And what is yours?”

“Look, I don’t have time to debate this. Take
a minute to think about it. Go ahead, get your thoughts together.
If you don’t want to go, let me know. Take all the time you need.
I’m going to that pay phone to fake a call. Then we’re going back
to my office, you are going to leave, I am going to meet you at
Jabberwocky, 6:00, don’t be late, then we’re going to Bimini.”

“Damn, Zackary

What
if you’re wrong?”

“When have I ever been wrong?”

Jim shook his head. “I give up.”

“I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here.” Jim sat on a cement stool and
gazed at three large orange-and-white fish swimming in the
fountain’s rippling water. He spoke to the fish. “I know how you
must feel, in that small pond, going round and round.”

Then, trying to stack logic together, he
contemplated going to Bimini. “That Joe Case is a nut case. I could
end up dead.”

With that thought circulating in his head, he
watched Zack swagger back toward him. He stood.

“Zackary, I’ve been thinking

”

“About what?”

“This is insane.”

“A-plus. The world is insane. We’re right at
home, and take that tie off.”

Chapter Thirty Seven

5:02 PM
EST

Back at his Boca office, his plan proceeding,
suspicious that his movements were being tracked, Zack checked his
watch, 5:03 p.m. He went down to Ted’s office.

“Ted, how about let’s go over to the
Jabberwocky, buy you a beer?”

“You serious?”

“Dead.”

“But

”

“Come on, ride with me.”

“But

”

At the Jabberwocky, Zack explained to Ted
what was up. He swore him to secrecy, not even Mary was to be
told.

Ted said, “I’ll be a monkey’s uncle son of a
gun, you want them to think

”

“Good thinking.”

Ted paused, “I think I just saw Jimbo come
in

”

“No you didn’t.”

Fifteen minutes later, as planned, Ted left
the Jabberwocky and drove Zack’s Subaru to Pompano Marina. He
parked where Zack had instructed he always parked, ambled to
Veracity
, boarded and made himself a drink. Sunday morning
he was to drive Zack’s car to
The Boca
, park it, go inside
for a while then drive home in his Dodge Van.

Chapter Thirty Eight

10:02 p.m.
EST

As pre arranged, Jim had exited the
Jabberwocky by himself and five minutes later Zack met him in the
parking lot at Jim’s maroon Corvette.

“Still got that tie on, huh?” Zack said.

Jim, driving, top down, negotiating endless
stop-and-go traffic, three military road checks, they arrived at
Fisherman’s Marina an hour after the last rays of sunlight had
flecked the calm water of Button Wood Sound. Inside the Marina,
Zack promised, bartered and borrowed the thirty-foot cigarette boat
Top Gun
from owner, Buddy Bone. Ten minutes later,
Top
Gun
filled with fuel, Zack idled her out to deep water and
gunned it.

Chapter Thirty Nine

10:30 p.m.
EST

The Atlantic ocean’s backdrop a majestic deep
purple, the moon hanging like a fat orange from a tree of stars,
Top Gun
skimmed over the dark, glassy water.

Zack gripped the wooden steering wheel,
puffed a Camel and watched reflected slivers of silver moonlight
slip past to his right. He checked the heading—east-northeast.

After a small correction, he pitched his
Camel overboard and pressed the twin throttles of
Top Gun
forward. The Merc engines pulsated in sync. He read the speed
gauges—thirty-eight hundred rpm, forty-three knots.

Far off to the southeast, jagged streaks of
lightning ripped the sky, leaving huge cumulus clouds illuminated
in eerie silence.

Zack glanced at Jim’s troubled face. “That
storm is fifty miles away, Jimbo. Don’t look so worried.”

“I’m not worried.”

“You look worried.” Zack retrieved a fifth of
Glenlivet from the console and took a swig. Biting his front teeth,
he offered Jim the bottle. “Have a drink.”

“I’m not worried.”

“You said that. Here, have a drink.”

Jim took the bottle. “Getting dead is my only
worry.”

“We’re not going to get dead, relax.”

“We don’t even know exactly where we’re
going, do we?” He took a quick gulp.

“Sure we do. Bimini Island, Browns’ Marina,
due east, a little north, they know we’re coming, invitation only,
remember?”

“How they know that?”

“The Tea Company owner, Jay Xzing, told
me.”

“You ever think of hanging out with just
ordinary people?”

“No future in it.”

Jim shook his head. “But why?”

“Jimbo, believe me, I feel something in my
bones.”

“Skull and crossbones.”

“You said that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Relax.”

The propellers whined as they skimmed a small
swell.

Jim said, “Ol’ crazy Joe Case doesn’t know
we’re getting there like this, tonight, do he, on a cigar boat, do
he, Bwana?”

“And then we have to get back—Bermuda
Triangle, missing Flight 19, close encounters.” Zack wiped salt
spray from his face. “You worry too much.”

“Zackary, even though you may be enjoying
this, I’m not.” Jim slugged the bottle again. “I’m a writer, a
journalist, not Sherlock Holmes.”