falsely accused. Isn't it about time that innocent people like me fought back? Make it work to our advantage. Why are you getting so upset about this bullshit?'
Bauerstock was still staring at me. He touched his hand to the recorder and said, 'How much, Dr. Ford?'
'Pardon me?'
'How much money? Or maybe you want a job. Or maybe there's a special project that you would like funded. How about your own fully computerized research vessel? We've got the technology. It's a straightforward business proposition: How much to destroy this tape and to tell us where the other tapes are?'
I said to Parrish, 'I'm trying to remember. When someone tries to pay off a private citizen, is it called bribery or extortion?' Which made Parrish grin through the cigar smoke.
'We don't have a lot of time, Dr. Ford. We're due at Naples Yacht Club by eight. We're having our boat hauled, put on a flatbed and transported inland. There's a hurricane coming, you know. How much do you want?'
I noticed a lean, dark woman walking down the mound toward us. She reminded me of the striking Indio women of South America, with her long black hair, though older. She appeared to be feeling her way, hands balanced outward. I realized that she was blind, but very familiar with the route. As she drew nearer, I realized the woman had no eyes.
I slid away from the table and stood. 'Bring back Dorothy Copeland, Bauerstock. That's my price. Bring her back to life. I think you're insane, and I think your son's a freak. Let's get the hell out of here, Gary.'
Looked to find my briefcase and saw that B.J. Buster was holding it to his chest, smiling at me. He had a surprisingly high, adolescent voice: 'That ain't a very nice thing to say, Doctor whoever you are.' I turned to Parrish, and saw the sudden tension in his face as I reached for the bag. When I did, Buster latched onto my wrist with fingers as blunt as hammers, twisted and catapulted me into a cement column. I hit spine-first; so hard that, for a moment, I teetered on the hazy, bright world of unconsciousness.
Trying to get up off the tile, I saw Buster coming at me, grinning. Saw Ted Bauerstock behind him, ripping at the briefcase, then hold up the totem. Heard him yell, 'I've got it! I've finally got it!' as Buster grabbed me beneath the chin and lifted me off the ground.
With both of his hands clamped around my head and neck, I could hear vertebrae pop as he pulled my face toward his. 'The man ask you a real simple question, you best answer. Now you go 'head an' tell Mr. Bauerstock where them other tapes are. Hear?'
When I tried to pry his hands away, Buster threw me into a post again. I got up quickly, but when I tried to tackle him, he caught me by the head and shoulders, and slung me into another post. I caromed off the cement, down the hill toward the lake.
The man wasn't just strong, he was discouragingly quick. Attacking him from the front wasn't going to work.
He came walking toward me, in no hurry at all, already reaching for me, but, this time, I ducked under his hands, buried my fingers in his throat while I tried to lock his left arm behind me. He knocked my hand away without much effort, then turned and came at me again. 'You can make it easy, you can make it hard. But you gonna tell Mr. Bauerstock where them tapes are.'
I glanced away for just a moment-what the hell had they done to Parrish? — and Buster was on me, heavy arms squeezing the wind out of me, his face so close to mine I could smell his sour breath. I head-butted him in an explosion of blood. Then head-butted him again. Felt his nose collapse beneath my heavy, frontal bone. He didn't let go, but it loosened his grip enough for me to slide under his arms and lock my hands around his waist.
I spread my legs slightly, lowering my center of gravity, and began to drive him backwards toward the water. If I got him into the water, he wouldn't have a prayer. He seemed to realize that. He used his big fists to pound at my head and neck, but I kept driving.
There was a stretch of man-made beach; very deep sand. I lost my footing there and went tumbling over him, glasses cockeyed on my head. Even so, at the edge of the beach, I could see a set of fins and a mask-Ivan or Ted were snorkelers, apparently. I grabbed the mask as Buster got to his feet, and fit my fist into the glass plate like a sort of glove. When he leaned toward me, I clubbed his face hard, then punched him twice more, once under the heart, then the side of the throat.
It dropped him to one knee, his face a mess.
I stepped forward to finish him when, behind me, I heard, 'Hold it! That's enough. You stop right now, Ford. I'll take it from here.'
I turned to see Parrish approaching, what looked to me a 9mm Glock in his right hand. He still had the cigar clamped in his teeth.
Ted and Ivan Bauerstock were a few steps back, walking.
I was breathing heavily and bleeding. 'Damn it, Gary! What the hell took you so long?'
He had a little smile on his face. 'What, miss a good fight? See Mr. B.J. Buster get a butt-whooping, I'd pay money for that. You handle yourself pretty good, Ford. Got some nice moves on you.'
Behind him, Ivan Bauerstock said in an eerily calm voice, 'Detective Parrish, I'm afraid we've got a problem. I'm afraid Teddy's been very bad again.'
Parrish said, 'Uh-oh. Been a long time since I heard that, Mr. Bauerstock.'
Buster was dusting sand off his arms, stopping occasionally to spit blood. 'Why you tellin' the man that, boss? After what I saw? You be speaking to a cop, my ass goin' to the joint, too.'
'You're well paid, Mr. Buster.'
'Um-huh, you gonna be paying me for a long time, so don't be runnin' off the mouth to no cop.'
Parrish said, 'B.J. was here?'
'I'm afraid so. And let's face it, Doctor Ford has become a liability, too.'
I watched numbly and threw my hands up as Parrish pointed his weapon at my face… then swung it suddenly toward Buster and shot him twice in the chest. Buster went down in a fetal position, kicking, moaning.
Parrish shrugged at me, saying, 'How you think I afford that cabin in Colorado, live with all those rich skiers?' as Buster began to cry, 'Oh man oh man, I'm hurt! I'm hurt bad!'
Parrish stood over him for a moment, Buster staring up. 'You got to help me, brother. Swear to Christ, you got to call an ambulance. Leave me with these two, they'll feed me to them fucking hyenas! That the truth! Put my eyes in the refrigerator and haul me out there to the fields.'
Parrish extended his arm and shot Buster once again, this time to the head. Turned to Ted Bauerstock and said, 'You feedin' people to the jungle animals now, Mr. Ted? Whatever happened to your hee-bee-jeebie hobby, them water burials?'
Twenty-four
Parrish turned and pointed the pistol toward me, holding it at my face, standing close enough he couldn't miss. Wind coming off the river, across the lake, whipped the cigar smoke away. 'I believe Mr. Bauerstock asked you a question. I figure the drunk hippie, he got one of the tapes. At least, you'd a let him hear it. But what'd you do with the others. Or maybe there ain't no others.'
Ivan Bauerstock had returned to the shade of the pavilion. He'd found his glasses and was holding the totem in the light, inspecting it while Ted Bauerstock bent over Buster's body.
When Bauerstock noticed what Ted was doing, he called, 'Teddy? Teddy. You get away from him right now!'
Ted stood. He seemed to be holding something in his hand, but hiding it, as if he didn't want anyone to know. He wore the self-satisfied sneer of a child who knew he could get away with whatever he chose. 'I was trying to resuscitate the man.'
'No you weren't, goddamn it! Don't lie to me. Get rid of that thing. Throw it in the water immediately and go wash your hands! Listen to me, mister-I will not have it in the house.'
His hand still cupped, Ted began to walk toward the boat. 'You're imagining things. You're always accusing me.'
Bauerstock made a gesture of frustration and dismissal. '/ can't do anything with that boy,' then leaned
