Bullet Beach (21 page)

‘But you are on the run.'

‘I am, Dietrich, but if you steal from thieves and deprive the corrupt of their take, have you done anything wrong?'

‘No one appointed me judge. How do you get the rubies out of the country?'

‘You see that's the problem. If it were just a regular big karat ruby, you mount it on a cheap band with a cheap setting. The people at customs wouldn't know a quality ruby if it bit them. What I have is bound to call attention to itself. But that's the least of my problems. The moment I leave Thailand they'll know I have it. And I can't trust it with someone else. Can you think of a solution?'

‘No,' Shanahan said.

‘You ever learn to smile?' Fritz asked.

‘Maybe I'm smiling now. Can you see me?'

‘No. Are you smiling?'

‘No. But I practice sometimes when nobody's looking.'

A chorus of high-pitched sounds came from below, then quieted.

‘You gonna have a good life?' Fritz asked.

‘As good as I have any right to,' Shanahan said.

‘You really need to go,' Fritz said. ‘It was good that you came. I think it was the right time. But now, you and I did what we had to do. And we settled it on the opposite side of the world from where it all began. Pretty amazing. Memories and all that. But I have things to do.'

‘Afterward?'

He laughed. ‘I'm too old to be running around like this. I'm past retirement. This is it. The big play. Cash in. Go some place warm. Chile, Vietnam, Arizona. Spend more time looking at sunsets than sunrises. Get a bottle of Scotch. Find a woman like yours.'

They talked more. About what they remembered – where they used to swim when the August heat became unbearable. The dinner table, where silence was mandatory, about their teachers and the Travis family on the next farm down. The three Travis brothers were a mean lot. And the sister couldn't be counted out. But Fritz was right. The conversation was becoming forced and hollow as the morning crept up on the two old men and Fritz said goodbye. No hugs. No handshakes. A nod, maybe.

‘We're probably going to stay a couple days. Drop by if you want,' Shanahan said as Fritz passed over the hill.

Fritz, who had stopped and looked at his brother in a gathering of gray light, shook his head and abandoned words.

‘Why are you up so early?' Maureen asked groggily from the disheveled bed.

‘Wrong question,' Shanahan said.

She lifted the shade by the bed. The morning gray had a touch of pink in it.

‘Why are you up so late? Did you go out and find some young dancer?' she asked.

He believed she was teasing, but sleep dripped over the sarcasm.

‘An old dancer maybe. Fritz.'

‘Fritz was here.' She sat up, awake. ‘Why didn't you . . .?' She shrugged, nodded. ‘He found you?'

Shanahan sat on the edge of the bed.

‘He wants us to go. Right away.'

‘Go where?'

‘Away.'

‘Why?'

‘I don't know. Maybe he doesn't want us to get hurt. He's got a plan to strike it rich.'

‘And?' she asked.

‘Maybe he's afraid we'll screw it up. After all, I led somebody down here. And he's got this scheme to end all schemes.'

‘Is he crazy?'

‘Could be. Thinks he can get a couple of million for a ruby.'

‘A million doesn't go as far as it used to,' Maureen said.

‘How many million do we have?'

‘Haven't counted lately,' she said, not missing a beat.

Shanahan slept a couple of hours but awakened in time for some coffee and his scheduled trip down to the sleepy beach where he was to meet Billy – the guy with the gun. When Maureen nudged him into consciousness, he was startled to find the sun, in full cheer, streaming in the open window. And for a moment, the previous evening's conversation with his brother was viewed as just another of those haunting dreams.

He showered, dressed and the two of them descended to the quieter beach, where he was to meet ‘Billy the Kid.' Compared to Bangkok, Phuket had outdoor air conditioning. And there was plenty of open space, which they traversed to get to the beach. If the bar was intended for tourists, it targeted the down and out. The structure, nearly a lean-to, was completely open to the beach. At the back, a bar occupied half the width. The other half housed a table, on which sat a large screen TV covered by a sheet, no doubt to protect it from the blowing sand. Behind and to the left of the bar, between it and the stairway, were rows of nails, each with a number, and some with keys. There was a second story over half the bar area – rooms for travelers. In the bar itself, there were two dozen tables on two levels, facing the highway and the beach beyond it. Each table was covered in a plastic tablecloth that was stapled to the wood.

Shanahan and Maureen took a seat on the top level, since it was shaded from the sun. She ordered a Thai iced-tea and he a coffee.

‘It's too hot for coffee, isn't it?' she asked.

‘The hot liquid brings up the body temperature, which, in effect, reduces the effect of the temperature of the air.'

‘Well . . .' She didn't know what to say.

Seated at the table below were four men. From what Shanahan could tell, they spoke German. One of them had a few teeth missing and all of them looked as if their livelihoods, even if they weren't too lively, came from playing at the margins. And they hadn't just arrived in the sunny climate or in the bar. There were eight bottles of beer on the table and the bartender was bringing over four more.

A few minutes past ten, a young Thai came in. He wore a white tee-shirt, too large for his thin frame, a pair of baggy shorts and some flip-flops. He looked around, noticed Shanahan and nodded. However, he was ambushed by friendly calls from the table of Germans.

‘Billy boy,' one called out in English. When Billy went over to them he and the guy who called him chatted in Thai. Shanahan could tell, even from a distance that the young man had something tucked in the waist under the shirt. Shanahan's desire for a subtle exchange of money and weapon wasn't likely to happen.

Laughter came from the table as the more boisterous German translated Billy's answers from Thai to German for the two others at the table. The young man smiled too, but it seemed forced. He wanted to get along, but he also wanted to get away. The German grabbed the boy's hand and with his other tried to reveal what was making the bulge at the boy's waist. The boy jumped back, squirmed, tried to slip free.

‘Billy?' Shanahan called out.

The men at the table stopped talking and laughing and looked at Shanahan. The look wasn't friendly. How dare he spoil their fun. But Billy managed to slip free as the guys at the table let their attention shift.

‘Come meet Maureen,' Shanahan said with uncharacteristic and insincere cheer.

The boy nodded to the table and headed toward Shanahan.

The man who seemed to be the group's leader shouted something at Shanahan. Shanahan waved as if he had understood the shout to be a friendly greeting.

Facing Shanahan and Maureen and with his back to the unhappy group below, the boy lifted his tee-shirt to reveal a revolver.

‘You shouldn't be tucking that thing in your waist,' Shanahan said. ‘Is it loaded?'

Billy shook his head ‘no.' He reached in his pocket and pulled out a half dozen bullets. He looked around, then handed Shanahan the revolver. Shanahan took it below the table toward his lap. He shook his head as he looked at it. It was much too large and it hadn't been cared for.

‘How much?'

‘Fifty thousand baht.'

‘No, no, no,' Shanahan said. ‘I'm not buying a house.'

‘You rent, maybe.'

‘Maybe,' Shanahan placed the revolver in his lap. ‘How much to rent?'

‘One week, four thousand baht. You lose it, you buy it.' The boy who was no doubt using the phrase he was told to use, was still worried about what may be behind him.

Shanahan looked at Maureen. ‘This is a peacemaker. A 357. Wild west all over again.' He looked at the boy. ‘A week. You trust me?'

He nodded ‘yes.'

Shanahan reached in his pocket. He had 3,500 baht. Maureen contributed a 500 bill. He was about to hide the revolver in Maureen's bag when he noticed the four Germans were making their way toward the table. Billy heard them and stepped back just as Shanahan brought up the gun and began to load it. He looked up at them as he slid the bullets into the chamber with slow deliberation.

The lead German looked down. Shanahan focused on the leader. The man's ugly face formed an equally ugly smile. The man gave a little wave. It was either a bye-bye or a dismissal. He turned to go. The other two followed him out. They crossed the road and headed toward a couple of other guys who were on the beach, smoking. They talked, looking back toward the bar from time to time.

TWENTY-ONE

A light rain fell. Thousands of tiny droplets dotted the still lake. Cross peered through his binoculars from under a yellow plastic-coated poncho. The seaplane bobbed gently in front of the slope that led up to the house. All evidence of daylight was nearly gone and the lights of the Taupin house made him jealous of the warmth, dryness and comfort that emanated from the windows.

Occasionally Cross could see people pass, the gold light behind them. He saw mother, daughter and maid. There were two men. One appeared to be in some sort of quasi-military garb. The other was Taupin himself. A rather ordinary looking man in his mid-fifties or early sixties. He wore a suit. The tie hadn't been pulled from the collar. The man didn't seem to adapt to the more casual atmosphere of a lake cottage. If there were additional folks, they hadn't yet passed by any of the lakeside windows.

Cross felt around for a Snicker's bar, found it and gave himself a reward for his patience – hours on the most unusual stakeout of his life. The problem was, he admitted to him-self, he didn't know what he was looking for. And if that were true, he questioned, would he know if he found it? He observed, but had no plan. Even so, he was sure the key to his freedom was inside that house, with those people.

Boredom had set in the first fifteen minutes. Hours later it was stupefying. He found his cell phone in his jacket pocket and – still under the tarp-like poncho – he dialed Kowalski.

‘What's up?' Cross said.

‘Is this a social call? Are we going to talk about what Madge said to Helen and what Marsha wore to the book club?'

‘No.'

‘You are bored out of your mind,' Kowalski said. ‘Or you're in trouble. Otherwise you wouldn't call me, the trait I most admire in my friends.'

‘I'm floating on a lake staring at the Taupin's grand lake house, trying to figure out what I'm doing on a lake looking at some goddam house.'

‘Lauren Saddler asked about you,' Kowalski said.

‘About why I disappeared and where was I?'

‘Yes. You know, I think she kind of likes bad boys.'

‘Am I a bad boy?'

‘Yes you are, you are a bad boy, yes you are,' Kowalski said in a fake, precious voice.

‘You know if I ride the lightning for killing those two, I might as well go for three.'

‘No more electric chairs. These days we kill people pharmaceutically. We're not barbarians.'

‘Does she think I did it?'

‘I don't know. Probably not. You have no motive. But the pressure's building. Taupin is on the phone with her twice a day.'

‘He's here now,' Cross said, ‘chatting comfortably in his own expensive home with some guy who looks like he's leading a safari through deepest Africa.'

‘He has a pith helmet?'

‘He has epaulets. Who has epaulets these days?'

‘He deserves to die too,' Kowalski said.

‘C'mon now, you're just trying to cheer me up.'

‘What are you going to do? They're not likely to kill someone in front of the window.'

‘I thought I'd think of something. But I haven't. Maybe when the lights are out, I'll go inside.'

‘Maybe they have Dobermans.'

‘I don't think so.'

‘Maybe bwana is the guard for the nightshift.'

‘Maybe. Maybe he is security. Taupin has to know about E.V.'s death.'

‘By the noon news if not before.'

‘Will Lauren go after him?'

‘Lauren, is it? Kowalski asked. ‘A bad boy like you must find tough, dominant women like Lauren attractive.'

‘Just how interested are you in my behavior, Dr Kowalski?'

‘This is the end of my needs assessment.'

‘Promise?' Nonetheless Cross thought of Maya's mother. She was tough, dominant. A disaster. When he fell in love he fell foolishly.

As Cross's thoughts drifted, Kowalski continued to talk. ‘They are all afraid of Taupin.'

‘Why are they afraid of him? I've seen him. He looks like a milquetoast.'

‘He is a cold, calculating soulless money machine. He is the ultimate materialist, completely unscrupulous, not an ounce of sentiment. He could as easily cut off your hand as he could lick a stamp. And he would do neither unless there was something in it for him. What makes people afraid? I think they know that to get his way he would destroy their reputation, or sue them into oblivion. We're going to have to put him in a package, wrap it up and tie the ribbon around it. You interested?' Kowalski asked. ‘If you are, find the Colombian connection.'

‘I've been sitting in the bottom of a row boat for hours on end. I think I've shown my commitment to the project. I have no choice.'