'Thank you.'
'Be careful, Dan. You're familiar with the suppressor and ammo; I don't have to tell you they're illegal. I wanted to bring the drugs to your attention. Ketamine's become the party drug of choice. If you're found with it, the police will have you down to the precinct quicker than you can think.'
'The police have never taken me before, Gabe, why the concern now? Any way, ketamine's an animal anaesthetic, isn't it?'
'Originally, yeah, but that doesn't stop crackheads shooting up with it. It's used these days as a human antidepressant, strictly prescription only. Has some serious hallucinogenic side effects if the wrong dosage is administered.'
'Don't worry, Gabe, I won't be using it on humans.'
'Mind if I ask you what you do want it for?'
'If I told you I'd have to kill you,' Dantalion quipped. From the shocked look on his face, Gabe didn't get the joke.
'That's your business, Dan. I just thought I could give you a nod on the correct dosages you'd need.'
'Enough will be enough.'
'Planning on a ghost hunt?' Gabe asked. 'Electromagnetic field meter. Night-vision goggles. They're standard equipment for paranormal researchers these days.'
'There might be a few ghosts around after I'm done,' Dantalion told him. 'Yours for one if you don't stop asking stupid questions.'
Gabe stopped the questions. He knew when to keep his mouth shut when he was around Dan-fucking- talion.
The waiter returned. He placed the drinks down on the table, slapped down the check. Dantalion scattered a few dollar bills in his direction. The man clucked his tongue. Reached for the notes. Dantalion resisted breaking his arm. That would make the lazy fucker a bit faster on his feet. When the waiter had retreated to a place where he could study his fingernails, Dantalion leaned towards Gabe.
'What's the latest news on Baker Island?'
'Rescue crews are still sifting through the wreckage. They haven't released official numbers — or names — of those they've found dead yet. There's a lot of media speculation, they're throwing names around like rice at a wedding. It's all guesswork cause they've nothing firm to go on. Bradley Jorgenson's refusing to speak to the police. I'm sure he'll be subpoenaed before long and then he'll have to come clean.'
Dantalion was engaged in lifting his coffee cup to his lips. Some of the coffee slopped down his coat, leaving a stain like a month-old knife wound. 'Wait a minute… Bradley Jorgenson 's refusing to speak?'
'Yeah, he's got some top-dollar attorneys holding off the cops with a verbal smokescreen. Of course that'll only go on so long; doesn't matter how much money he has, the police are conducting a homicide investigation and-'
Dantalion slammed down his cup.
'I killed Bradley Jorgenson,' Dantalion hissed. 'Have you forgotten, Gabe?'
Gabe blinked rapidly. He slumped backwards in his seat, gaining distance from the anticipated lunge he could see building in Dantalion. It never came. He hoped that Dantalion — despite his jokes — valued his associate's help too highly to give in to base anger. Emboldened by that assumption, Gabe said, 'Not according to CNN. They say that he's currently at his home on Neptune Island.'
'And the girl? Marianne Dean?'
'Yeah, she's with him.'
'Son of a bitch!'
Dantalion stood up swiftly. He ignored the pull in his wounded leg. Anger overrode the agony.
'I guess that's why the client was remiss in making payment?'
'I guess so,' Gabe said. 'Sorry, Dan. I thought you knew.'
'No, Gabe, I didn't know.' He reached into his pocket, toying with the spine of his book. Withdrew his fingers and wiped them on his coat. The book had lied to him. The numbers were all wrong. 'But it looks like I'm going to have to do something about that.'
So, Jorgenson and Marianne had both survived the explosion. As had the damn gunman who'd been sent to kill him. Now they were all making pow-wow at Neptune Island. Suddenly he wasn't so clear on how many enemies he was going to have to kill.
'You have access to a thermonuclear device, Gabe?'
Gabe sniggered. 'You're joking, right?'
'Do I look like someone with a sense of humour? There are a lot of people on Neptune Island about to die. Maybe every last one of them.'
Gabe gulped his soda in one continuous slurp. Smacking his lips, he said, 'Can't get you a nuclear missile, but call me if you need anything else, Dan.'
Dantalion stooped low, hooking the backpack with one hand.
'I've everything I need right here.'
He walked quickly away, leaving Gabe to sweat a lot more.
19
Jorgenson's people conducted a background check on us. Rink came back fine. He had a private investigator's licence and his business was registered at the address in Tampa. On the other hand, my own legend was a tad more difficult to come up with. I told them they'd just have to take my word for it. No one argued.
Jorgenson left with an entourage of vehicles, heading down to Miami Beach to meet with his legal advisers, and then with officers from Miami PD's homicide department. His father's body had been pulled from the wreckage, but unlike those on the ground floor, his corpse wasn't so burned or torn to shreds by the blast: it was obvious he'd been shot.
Marianne stayed with us. Just the way I wanted it.
Whatever it was that she had to get on with, she was doing it in her bedroom. I'd conducted a cursory sweep of the room, checking that an intruder couldn't gain access, and had told her to keep the blinds closed so she didn't offer a target to anyone outside.
'We should move her,' Rink told me. He'd said the same thing about a dozen times previously.
'I agree.' I'd also said the same thing numerous times.
'So what are we waiting for?'
'Marianne doesn't want to move.'
'So we convince her.'
'She won't budge. Despite everything, she loves Bradley.'
We were sitting in the hall on the second-floor landing. Marianne's room was about three doors up. We could see the entrance to her room, but we'd placed ourselves so we could guard the main stairs and also see the door that led to a secondary stairwell further along the hall. Seagram's men were keeping well out of our way.
'While Bradley's outa the way, why not snatch Marianne, and have done with it?' Rink demanded. 'She'll get over it. When she comes to her senses and sees what an asshole he is.'
'Two things, Rink. We've made ourselves public coming here. Bradley would scream kidnap. We'd be hunted down by law enforcement, despite our good intentions. Plus, I'm beginning to think that Richard Dean hasn't told us everything. Neither has Marianne.'
'It's not safe here,' Rink said.
There were armed guards in the grounds, armed guards in the house, more CCTV cameras than the Big Brother house. But he was correct.
'I'll speak to her again,' I offered. 'But we have to respect her wishes, Rink. I know we're looking at her like she's a child, but she is eighteen years old. She has her own mind, and a right to make her own decisions.'
Rink rolled his shoulders. 'She isn't thinking with her head, though. She's smitten with Bradley. She's got herself into a position where she's afraid to walk away. She'll take the violence from him, twist it round, blame
