“I haven’t had much time to think about it lately.”
“How much time does it take? You either want to or you don’t.”
Carr glances at Bessemer again. “Can we talk about this later?”
“Not too much later-Amy will be back. Or were you asking for more time than that?” Carr is still searching for an answer when Valerie hangs up.
Bessemer packs quickly, humming to himself while he does it. Afterward, he goes behind the bar and mixes a gin and tonic. “For the road, Greg?” Carr shakes his head, and Bessemer raises his glass to the room. “I’ll miss the old place,” he says. “Such fond memories.”
Carr smiles and shakes his head. “Best to have none at all of these past few weeks, Howie. Best to get on with whatever it is you’re going to do.”
Bessemer looks at him for a long moment, and then he finishes his drink. “Do I have time for a shower before we leave?” Carr nods and Bessemer disappears into his bedroom.
Carr reaches into a duffel and pulls out the Glock. He drops the clip out, checks the load, and works the slide. Then he snaps the clip back in. He can hear the shower running in Bessemer’s bathroom, and Bessemer singing badly. He thinks about Bobby and Mike- He’s everybody’s problem if you don’t -and he thinks about Bessemer’s son- I don’t really know him -and he slides the clip out again.
“Fuck it,” he says aloud. He opens the balcony door, drops the clip into a stand of dense foliage below, and feels as if a piano has been lifted from his chest.
Carr looks up at the shrouded sky. He thinks about flight delays, and the connections from Miami to Palm Beach. He thinks about his mother and father, and the house in Stockbridge, and about Valerie. He goes inside and picks up his phone.
He tries her three times but gets no answer, and wonders if Amy Chun has come home already, or if Valerie is simply ignoring him.
Bessemer emerges with wet hair and fresh clothes. He drinks a final gin and tonic and watches with amusement as Carr wipes down the rooms. Top to bottom, back to front. Carr makes Bessemer close the door. On their way to the elevator, Carr wipes off the empty Glock and drops it behind the ice machine.
They pause beneath the portico when they come out of the lobby. Rain is falling, in fat, erratic drops, but the sky promises more. It’s dark now, and the trees are swaying. The lights in the parking lot are on and shaking on their poles. Bessemer curses softly, and they trot across the asphalt.
Their car is at the far end of the lot, in a space beside a light pole. As they approach, Carr notices that it’s the only light not lit. There’s a sedan parked in the next space that wasn’t there before. It’s dark-black or blue-and it’s familiar to Carr, though he’s not sure from where. A few steps closer and he sees that it’s a Nissan, and Carr stops in his tracks. Bessemer jogs ahead and Carr calls out, and there are footsteps behind him.
Carr drops his bag and whirls, and headlights come on, and catch him full in the face. A hand clamps on his wrist and tries to fold it into a come-along hold. Carr pivots and throws his elbow up and something crunches. A voice yells motherfucker and the hand falls away, and Carr pivots again, out of the light, as another voice yells stand clear. Carr hears a pop, feels a sting on his back, hears a hissing sound. And then the sky lights up, and so do his arms, and legs, and skin, and bones. And then it all goes dark.
43
There’s blood in his mouth when he comes to. He tries to feel it with his hand, but can’t because of the restraints. They’re the stiff plastic kind, and they’re tight behind his back. And then there’s the matter of the hood. Someone yanks it away and Carr is blinking into a hard white glare.
There are shapes behind the lights-charcoal figures pacing, pointing-and when the rush subsides in Carr’s ears, he can make out voices. Men’s voices, and a woman’s.
“What’s your name?” Kathy Rink says. “We know it isn’t Greg Frye.”
“I don’t give a shit about his name,” Prager says. “I want my fucking money back.”
Carr’s having trouble with the words-their meanings don’t keep up with the sounds. And he hasn’t taken any money-not yet. He tries to look at his watch, but again the restraints stop him. He hasn’t taken any money. The air is damp and smells of newly turned earth.
There’s a noise to Carr’s right, something between a groan and a sob. He turns and sees the hood torn from Bessemer. His head lolls to one side. His face is white and wet with tears, and there’s a triangle of blood spreading from his nose down across his mouth and chin.
“And you, you fat lying fuck!” Prager shouts. “I trusted you.”
There are shuffling feet and urgent whispers behind the lights, and Carr tries to look around. He sees a concrete floor beneath him, and open space above. To his left, half in shadow, there is a workbench covered with empty terra-cotta flowerpots, coils of garden hose, and sacks of potting soil. To his right, in a sodden heap in the corner, he sees what’s left of his and Bessemer’s luggage. Everywhere there is the clatter of rain on a tin roof. Bessemer groans again.
“Not me,” he mutters.
“Anything broken, Howie?” Carr says softly.
Prager steps from behind the wall of light. He’s in shirtsleeves, and his hair is wet and wiry. Cords pop in his neck, and veins pulse. Carr is fascinated by them. Prager grabs him by the collar, and Carr can smell his sweat and his fear. “What the fuck did you say? Come on, say it again.”
“Curt, please,” Kathy Rink says sharply. “Let me do my job.” She emerges from the glare and puts a hand on Prager’s arm.
He flicks her away like a bug. “I keep waiting for you to start,” he says disgustedly. “Find my money. Find out what the hell he did to my system.”
Carr blinks his eyes, trying to clear them. Maybe it’s the lingering effects of the Taser, or his collision with the pavement afterward, but his mind is split into several pieces. One piece is trying to establish a basic fact set, and to make it sit still. Someone has hit Isla Privada, ahead of schedule. Prager has found out about the theft. Prager has found out about him. Prager is going to kill him.
Another piece is a storm of questions. How did Prager find out? Was there a camera he hadn’t seen, a switch he’d tripped? Was he spotted in the house? He doesn’t think so, but anything’s possible. The biggest question-who has stolen Prager’s money-Carr scarcely needs to ask, even in his fractured state. It’s someone in his crew. Maybe everyone in his crew.
Yet another part of him tries to figure the timing. How many hours passed between Dennis reporting that his spyware had scooped up Prager’s passwords, and Carr being tasered in the hotel lot? Enough time, certainly, for Dennis to call Valerie. Enough time for Valerie to sit down behind Amy Chun’s desk. Enough time to do any number of things, if the people doing them had discipline and a plan. Carr tries to look at his watch again and strains against his plastic cuffs.
The last scrap of his mind is the busiest-a panting, scrambling thing, searching every inch of this arena of light, probing the shadows at its boundaries, looking for a way out. Flowerpots, garden hoses, potting soil, an upside-down wheelbarrow, what might be a spade, what might be a rake, a garden tractor that is missing a wheel-he’s struggling to turn any of it into a key. Kathy Rink isn’t letting him think.
She’s sitting on a stool now, her face close to Carr’s. “I said, ‘What do I call you?’ ” Her skin is grainy, and there are deep lines around her mouth. Her breath smells of old coffee.
“My name’s Greg Frye, but call me what you want.”
“But that’s not your name, is it?” Carr tries a smile, but the cut in his mouth hurts. “Though your diamonds are for real, and your prints came back as Greg Frye, which-I gotta admit-gives me a scare. You some flavor of cop, Greg?”
Carr shakes his head. “You seem to have your mind made up about things.”
“Your prints come back as Greg Frye, and there’s a file for Greg Frye with the Bureau of Prisons, but after that…” Rink shrugs. “How’d you manage that?”
“If you think I’m a cop, shouldn’t you be a little more careful with the merchandise?”
Rink holds his Greg Frye passport up. “Not so much, Greg. You and Bessemer checked out of your hotel, and
