“ You bought into the galka concept. You’re taking a barely alive man out to sea to die far away from any potential victim.”
“ I’m not sure I believe in God, but if I was going down for the third time, I’d pray.”
“ You’re doing this, just in case?”
“ No, I guess not. He’s evil. He is what you were afraid of. He is the Ragged Man.”
“ And me?”
“ You’re Judianne.”
“ A nice name for us, because now we are one.” She paused for a second, then said, “Say it.”
“ Judianne.”
“ Say it, and kiss me.”
“ Judianne.” He took her in his arms and kissed her.
She broke the embrace and said. “We still have a problem.”
“ We have lots of problems.”
“ No, we have an immediate problem. The galka can’t take you and it can’t take me, but what about Wolfe?”
“ Did I hear my name?” the bearded sea captain said, walking toward them, holding a well-worn flannel shirt.
“ We were just wondering,” Judianne said, “if you’ll get into any trouble for helping us.”
“ I’ll take my chances.” Then he added, “And I think right now it would be a good idea, Judy, if you took Mr. Gordon into the galley and cleaned him up some. Then he can get into this,” he offered the shirt. “It might be cool, but you can burn just as well on a cool day at sea as you can a hot one.”
Judianne took Rick by the arm and said, “Lean on me. The captain’s right, you need to clean up, and that shoulder needs looking at.” She started to lead him away.
They heard a grunt of surprise as they moved away from the captain. They turned to see Sam Storm grab Wolfe Stewart from behind the left knee and jerk him to the ground. With rattlesnake speed he grabbed Stewart’s Bowie knife from its scabbard and slit his throat, all the while staring at them with death defying eyes. He put the knife to his mouth and licked off the captain’s still-dripping blood.
“ I heard what you said.” Blood dripped from his chin as Rick and Judianne stood spellbound. “I enjoyed the killing. It’s like I have a bad side. It wanted me to kill, but I picked the victims.”
“ You didn’t try to fight it?” Rick asked.
“ I didn’t want to. I’d been beaten down all my life, a nobody man in a nobody job. I had a chance to shine when the RIAA hired me to track you and your bootlegger pals down, but I couldn’t even do that. Then, all of sudden, in that bait store, when you killed that man with the bottle of wine, I was somebody. I was supreme, above anyone, above the law, above fear, till I tried to fuck her.” He pointed at Judianne with knife. “Then I knew I was in for a fight, but I won’t die easy and I’ll win in the end.”
“ Bootlegs? You did all this because of the records?” Rick couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“ And what about any of this does?” He looked at the knife, turned it, as if he were fascinated with it. “And one more thing,” he said, “the boy is alive. He’s in your upstairs bathroom, tied with a noose around his neck, sharing a tub full of water with a radio on a timer set to go off at noon. Pretty quick the boy fries.” He brought the sharp edge of the blade to his lips again and licked off the remaining blood.
Judianne reacted with a combination of Ann’s determination and Judy’s youth. She screamed and charged the wounded man, kicking him in the face, driving the blade of the Bowie knife through his mouth to the back of his head. Then she whirled, building momentum, and slammed her foot into his blood gushing mouth with full force, splattering blood and brains on the deck.
She looked down at what she had wrought and said, “He was wrong, he died easy.”
After he caught his breath and allowed his thumping heart to cool down, J.P. wanted a drink. He looked at the blood tinged water and the thought of drinking that made him gag. He reached his right hand behind his back, stretched and managed to turn on the cold water. He set the tap at a dribble. Then he cupped his hand, grabbing a lap of water and brought it to his lips. Repeating the gesture several times he was able to satisfy his thirst.
When his parched throat no longer screamed, he looked at the clock and frowned, 11:15. He had forty-five minutes left.
He wanted out of the tub. He wanted clothes. He wanted his mother. And he knew that help was probably not coming. He was on his own.
His hands were free, so things that were out of reach, when they were tied up, might now be within grasp. With a renewed eye, he studied the bathroom. The bathroom sink, next to the tub was off limits. Too high. But the drawers below were not. He stretched against the noose, reached for a drawer. He was able to ease a it open and using his hand like an eel, he snaked it into the drawer and felt around.
A few small bottles, emery boards, a larger bottle, then pay dirt, a pair of nail clippers. He could snip away at the rope and get free. He latched onto the clippers and pulled his hand out, banging it on the top of the drawer, dropping the clippers on the wet floor, where they bounced and slid out of reach.
“ It’s not fair,” he said, but he wouldn’t give up.
He sat in the tub with the noose pulling at his neck and thought, and he realized there was something nagging at him, like in school when the teacher calls on you and you know you know the answer, but can’t remember it. It’s on the tip of your tongue, but your tongue is frozen.
There was a way, he was sure. He just had to reason it out.
Without talking, they dragged Storm’s body to the rail, Judianne at the shoulders, Rick at the feet. They lifted the lifeless form and hoisted him over the side. Then Judianne made a quick trip to the galley and returned with a painter’s tarp that covered the grill when it wasn’t in use and draped it over Wolfe Stewart’s body.
“ Can you drive this thing?” she asked.
“ How hard can it be?” he answered.
She helped him up to the bridge.
“ Where are we and where is back?” She looked around, seeing only fog, mist and blue ocean.
“ We’re on a heading of two-seventy,” he said, looking at the compass, “so in theory, if we swing the boat around to a heading of ninety degrees, we’ll wind up back where we started.”
“ You’re sure?”
“ No. In an airplane you’d have to take wind direction into account, so I would assume in a boat you would have the same problem with the current.”
“ So what do we do?”
“ Turn to a course of ninety degrees and pray.” He swung the wheel around, shoving the throttle full forward.
“ I’m going down to get some hot water. I’ll be right back.” She left the bridge, returning a few minutes later with a pan from the galley, a wet rag and the ship’s first aid kit. Then she washed and bandaged his wounds. When she was finished she handed him Wolfe Stewart’s flannel shirt and he put it on.
“ Does the shoulder hurt much?” she asked.
“ I’m trying not to think about it.”
“ I’m sorry.”
“ Don’t be, it’s not your fault.
“ It’s 11:30, we only have a half hour left.”
“ We’ll make it?” he said.
“ What if we don’t?”
“ We will.”
“ How do you stop it?”
“ What?”
“ The boat. When we get there, how do we stop it?”
“ I suppose we slow down and throw it into reverse just before we dock, then shove it into neutral.”
“ Oh,” then she said. “Is that what you’re going to do?”
