Ukraine.
Annika’s smile spread like melting butter. “Better than you do, my dear.”
A shiver went through the pit of Naomi’s stomach. Annika might be lying—in fact, she probably was—but the thought that she might, indeed, know Alli so well gave Naomi the willies.
“Alli is with Jack,” Naomi said, more defensively than she had intended, “where she belongs.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Annika was staring straight ahead. “And where would that be?”
Naomi made no response.
“Now that we’re in Georgetown,” Annika said, “you should know where to go.”
Naomi glanced at her for a moment, then headed down toward the water.
“You saw me follow Pete yesterday.”
“I’m sure you saw him get into the boat.”
“Roosevelt Island?”
“It’s wilderness out there.” Annika pointed to the parking area of a building beside Tidewater Lock. “An excellent place for a rendezvous.” That smile again as Naomi pulled into a slot. “And secrets.”
FOR SOME time, Thate watched the crew members playing poker in the rear lounge, but his mind was elsewhere. He was remembering in perfect detail Alli defeating Dennis Paull not once, but three times. He liked the way she moved, like a ghost or a drift of smoke. He’d never seen anyone fight like that—the sudden whirlwind moves fascinated him. Or maybe it was Alli herself who fascinated him.
He cleared his throat, got up, and asked for a pillow and a blanket. One of the crew members put down his cards and opened an overhead compartment. The entire crew watched him while he pulled down what he wanted. He lay down across a row of seats some distance from them, pulled the blanket over him, and set his head on the pillow.
He drifted on and off for perhaps an hour or so. When he opened his eyes, he saw a crewman sitting across the aisle, watching him. A handgun lay in his lap. He gripped it as Thate sat up.
“I need to pee.”
“Go ahead,” the crewman said.
Wrapping himself in the blanket, Thate went forward up the aisle, the crewman following in his wake.
The forward toilet was located almost directly across from the stairs leading down to the ground. He pulled open the toilet door. As the crewman stepped forward, Thate threw the blanket over him, slammed his forehead into the crewman’s nose, and dragged him into the toilet. The entire maneuver had taken no more than a second or two. Thate risked a glance to the back. The rest of the crew kept up their game of poker, oblivious to what had just happened.
Ducking back into the toilet, he took the unconscious crewman’s handgun, set him on the toilet, and emerged into the aisle, closing the door behind him. He stepped across the aisle, went down the stairs, and was free.
ANNIKA BOLTED out of the car, and, cursing under her breath, Naomi hurried after her. Annika carried the poodle in one arm. There was no sign of the .25, but Naomi was certain she had it on her somewhere. Oddly, and rather terrifyingly, she seemed oblivious to the fact that Naomi was armed. Her absolute confidence exploded a depth charge into Naomi’s psyche.
Striding out onto the dock, Annika set the poodle free. It immediately scampered to a section of the dock and jumped. Unconcerned, Annika walked after it. At the edge, she unzipped her boots and tossed them after the dog. Then she stepped down into a sleek, blue-and-white powerboat. Pulling out a key on a float ring, she started the engine, then cast off the bow line.
“Cast off the stern line when I give the signal,” she said without looking at Naomi.
Naomi stood at the stern of the boat. There was no point, at least at this stage, in pitting herself against the other woman, she told herself. Better to go along with whatever she had in mind, always remembering her service weapon, a 9mm Glock that, at this distance, could put a sizable hole in Annika’s head. She decided that would be a most satisfying outcome.
“Now,” Annika said.
Naomi slipped the nylon line from the metal cleat, then stepped on board. The moment she did so, Annika pushed the throttle and the boat nosed its way out of the slip, angling toward the thick greenery of the island. Naomi picked her way forward and stood beside Annika, in much the same position Peter had stood beside the unknown man yesterday morning.
The trip took no more than five minutes. The sun was a hazy ellipse, partially obscured by a low-lying cloudbank. As was the case the morning before, there was no other boat traffic. The water lay serenely blank, an opaque sheet intent on keeping its secrets safe.
Annika tied up the poodle, who obediently lay down, sighed, and went to sleep. They disembarked onto the island, Naomi in her sensible shoes, Annika in bare feet. The sun was fully up now and the day was growing warmer. Naomi noticed that Annika did not take off her raincoat. Possibly this was where she’d stashed her .25.
Annika struck out to their left and Naomi followed. They skirted the shoreline, heading toward the eastern point of the island, but, almost immediately, Annika turned inland. Naomi tried to focus her mind on the island’s shape. There were no buildings, only a memorial to Teddy Roosevelt near the opposite shore. Otherwise, all was wilderness. They picked their way through the underbrush, beneath heavy branches. The smell of damp earth and decaying leaves was everywhere. The sky vanished; they were enclosed in deep, cool shade, as if in the shadow of a monstrous edifice.
At length, they broke out onto a boardwalk of whitish planks, walking due south until Annika turned onto a right-hand branch. This took them on a short walk to a platform that overlooked a finger of muddy water and, beyond, a thick swath of uninterrupted forest that composed the bulk of the island. There was not a soul to be seen anywhere, no movement save for the twittering birds flitting from tree to tree.
Looking around, Naomi could see nothing she would not expect to find on such an expedition. “This is where Pete went yesterday?”
“Possibly.” Annika stared off to their right.
Naomi followed her gaze, but could find no anomaly. “Who took him here, Annika? Who was driving that boat?”
“I hope you’re not averse to getting your feet wet,” Annika said as she stepped off the platform onto a protruding root, and from there down into the water. The hem of her raincoat caused ripples to expand out from where she stood, knee-deep.
Kicking off her shoes, Naomi grabbed on to the bole of the tree and swung down from the root, which was slippery, skinned now from Annika’s weight, to the water herself. As soon as she was down, Annika picked her way north, up the narrow channel. The bottom was soft and mucky, and mud squelched between Naomi’s toes. The water was surprisingly warm, thick as chowder. What was she stirring up with each footfall? she wondered. Tiny whirlpools of little fish and decayed leaves wove around her ankles, turning the brackish water ruddy. A sudden shadow overhead caused her to duck, and she heard a bird call, as if mocking her.
“Come on!” Annika called from up ahead. “Don’t get lost!” Her voice was oddly flat, echoless, as if they had entered a strange and unknowable place where the natural laws of science didn’t apply.
Naomi moved on, picking up her pace as best she could, but the footing had become unstable, the muck under her feet shifting and sliding as it deepened. Several times she stumbled and had to grab an overhanging branch to keep herself from pitching headlong into the water. She realized that the water was neither cold nor warm, but seemed to be the same temperature as her body.
Up ahead, she could see a flicker of Annika’s raincoat, like the scales of a reptile moving slowly and inexorably toward its goal. Now she used the branches to drag herself forward, relying on her arms rather than her legs for locomotion, as if she were a chimpanzee.
Maneuvering around a small bend to the right, she stopped. Annika was standing with one foot on the low bank. One leg was raised. The raincoat had parted, sliding off the knee, revealing a section of naked thigh. What did
