“Accident on I-95,” Larry said. “That’s what the chopper is for. We’re okay; let’s go back to the marina.”
Gigi made a U-turn and retraced her route.
“This time park in the parking lot,” Larry said.
“Are you feeling less nervous?” she asked.
“I’ll tell you in a minute,” he replied.
She pulled into the lot.
“Turn around and back into a spot, near the bridge to the pon toon,” he said. When she stopped, he got out of the car and looked around, listened. “Pop the trunk.”
She did, and he walked to the rear of the car, still looking around, and got his duffel with its equipment inside. He waved for her to follow him. Gigi got out of the car and padded down the bridge to the pontoon. “There’s the boat,” she said, pointing to the end of the fl oat. It was a black Boston Whaler, and the name on the side registered. Larry was already climbing in. He opened the small locker under the steering wheel and came out with a key attached to a plastic float. “Looks like we’re in business,” he said.
“And not a moment too soon,” Gigi replied, checking the sunset and untying the mooring lines. She stepped into the boat, inserted the key into the ignition lock and turned it. The fi fty-horsepower outboard purred to life.
“Let’s get out of here,” Larry said. “This place gives me the creeps.”
59
STONE AND DINO stood with Evan beside the rental car, a few blocks from the restaurant.
“It’s seven twenty-fi ve,” Dino said. “You’d better get going. Park as close to the restaurant as you can.”
“Have you got the money?” Stone asked.
“I have.”
“Don’t give it to him until he confirms the hit,” Stone said, “and make him say it out loud, for the recorder. My guess is, he’ll leave the second he gets the money, and then he’s the state police’s problem.”
“Where are they?” Evan asked.
“Already in and around the restaurant for some time, I should think,” Stone replied. “Don’t look for them in the restaurant; they’ll spot you, don’t worry. And when Manny gets up and leaves, don’t try to stop him or follow him.”
“Got it,” Evan said.
“You’ve been pretty cool through this so far,” Dino said to him.
“Now is not the time to get nervous. A little, maybe, that would be normal, but not much.”
“I’m not excessively nervous,” Evan said.
“Then get going.”
Stone opened the car door for him. “Just stay at the restaurant until it’s all over,” he said. “We’ll come fi nd you.”
Evan got into the car and drove away.
“You think this is going to work?” Dino asked.
“Nothing we can do about it,” Stone replied. “It’s in the hands of other people now.”
AS TOMMY FOLLOWED Mike up the fifty yards of catwalk from the dock, he saw a man sitting on the front porch, rocking and sipping a drink.
“We got company?” Tommy asked.
“We’ve got two deputies with rifles in the house, but have a look.”
They approached the porch, and they were ten yards away before Tommy got it. “It’s a dummy,” he said.
“Made it myself,” Mike said.
It was wearing Mike’s clothes, with a fl oppy fishing hat. Tommy could see a string tied to the rocker and another that held the dummy’s left hand in place, holding a glass. When the string was pulled, the glass went to the dummy’s lips. A deputy was standing inside in the living room, pulling the strings.
“That’s sweet work, Mike,” Tommy said, looking at his watch.
“But we’d better get off the porch; it’s nearly dark.”
GIGI PUT the outboard in gear, a light suddenly came on AS behind them. Larry spun around, alarmed, then he took a deep breath and let it out. “Spotlight on the shed,” he said. “Comes on automatically when it gets dark enough.”
“That’ll help us find our way back,” Gigi said, pushing the throttle a bit forward and starting down the creek toward the waterway.
“Switch off your running lights,” Larry said, “and keep it at idle, so we make as little noise as possible.”
Gigi did so. “Larry, what is this thing you have about boats?”
“I don’t have a thing about boats. I like riding in them; I enjoyed the trip to Key Largo from Key West. I just don’t have any experience operating them. I don’t like the wind and tide doing things to them, either. I feel like I’m not in control.”
“Oh.”
“We’ve got a buoy dead ahead,” Larry said, switching on a small but very powerful fl ashlight.
“I see it,” Gigi said. “It just marks the creek.”
“Seems like there ought to be a light on it,” Larry said.
“There is,” Gigi said. As they passed the buoy it came on, fl ashing green.
“Let’s get out into the middle of the waterway until we see the dock,” Larry said. “And keep a lookout for other boats.”
“Okay.” Gigi steered for the center, keeping the motor at idle. The boat steered sluggishly going so slowly, but it was manageable. Larry turned his flashlight to his duffel. He held the light in his teeth as he quickly assembled his rifle and screwed on the silencer and telescopic sight.
“Will the guy be able to see any muzzle flash?” Gigi asked.
“No, the silencer is also a suppressor. You’ll hear a
“I see a light up ahead,” she said. “It seems to be on shore, not on a dock.”
They were both whispering now, aware of how voices carried over water. “I can see a porch,” Larry said. “Go past the house and upstream a hundred yards or so, then make a U-turn and go south, close to the dock.”
Larry took a small pair of binoculars from his pocket. “I have the porch,” he said. “The porch light isn’t on; the light is coming from inside.”
“Can you see anybody?”
“I see something, but . . .” They were fifty yards from the dock now. “I have a man in a rocking chair.”
“That’s gotta be our guy,” she said.
Larry pressed a magazine into the rifle and worked the bolt action slowly to make as little noise as possible. “Is this as slow as you can go?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered, “but we’ve got a little tide against us. When you’re ready, I can take it out of gear and we’ll slow nearly to a stop.”
Larry sat cross-legged in the bottom of the boat, looking through the telescopic sight. “He’s got a drink in his hand,” he said. “Get ready to stop.”
Gigi steered the boat to a point three feet from the dock. As they came abreast of the pontoon, Larry said, “Stop.”
Gigi pulled the gear lever to neutral, and the boat slowed imme-diately. “I won’t be able to steer,” she
