Dangerous Times (26 page)

Emily scanned the doctor’s petite figure,
dressed in a gray pantsuit; the pigment of her clear Asian skin
unusually light; the big round glasses, her shiny black hair in a
bowl cut. Emily thinking the woman was like a modern-day China
doll.

The three of them looked toward the sound of
the ceiling hatch. Da Shan made his way up through the opening, out
into the hazy rain, and the hatch whirred shut behind him.

May Kuan smiled and said, “Da Shan doesn’t
like to squeeze his way through the bulkhead hatches.” Then to
Emily, “I suppose he’s the one who gave you the nasty bruise on
your cheekbone.”

“Slapped me in the face,” Emily sneered.

“Brainless primate,” the doctor said. She
turned to Kirk and studied him. “And what’s this?” Coming forward
on her knees she felt the matted hair at the side of his head.
“This couldn’t have just happened.”

“I was…” Kirk held the pause, about to say
he had been hit with a tire iron, images of the fight he’d had with
Staub coming back to him; his mind filling with more of the
past.

“You were what?” May Kuan asked Kirk while
Emily gazed curiously at him.

“I was…” he repeated softly, unwilling to
admit to Eddie Jones’ niece that his memory had begun to return.
“Damn it, still can’t grasp anything.”

“I know,” May Kuan said, opening her
satchel. “I overheard my uncle talking doubtfully about your claim
of memory loss.” She said, “Whether or not you’re being truthful is
none of my concern. I’m a doctor. I have taken an oath and will not
break it.”

“You’re going to help us get out of this,”
Emily stated hopefully.

“My uncle doesn’t know I’m here with you,”
May Kuan said as she opened her medical bag. “I’m doing what I
think is right.” She pulled a thermos from the satchel and set it
on the floor. “Water,” May Kuan said, “to drink with these,”
handing a pill each to Kirk and Emily.

“What are they?” Kirk asked, examining
his.

“Pain killers,” May Kuan answered. “Da Shan
will return soon and you will be glad you took them.” She closed
her satchel, got up and started for the bulkhead hatch.

Cuffed to Kirk, Emily yanked him up as she
stood. “Wait!” she called after the doctor.

May Kuan stopped and looked back at her. “My
uncle sent me through medical school,” she said. “He supports many
of our relatives and their ventures. I have done all I can for
you.”

“You’ve got to help us,” Emily pleaded. “I
know you’re not the kind of person who wants to see anybody get
hurt.” Then near tears, “You can’t let this happen to us!”

“I am truly sorry,” May Kuan said sadly.

“You’re just as bad as your uncle,” Emily
seethed.

The doctor returned to Kirk and Emily. She
sat again on the floor and opened the satchel. She took her
prescription pad out and wrote hurriedly while saying, “If Eddie
finds out I’ve done this…”

Emily said, “You’re going to help us,
then.”

May Kuan tore the paper from the pad and
handed it to Kirk. “My plate number and my phone number,” she told
him. “Green Nissan, parked in lot two, pier five.” She handed Kirk
the key with its alarm button. “Leave it under the front seat and
lock the doors manually; I’ve got a spare. Then call and leave a
message telling me where you’ve left the car.” She said, “There are
three speedboats tied to the ship’s jack ladder, keys in their
ignitions. Take the smallest and use the emergency oars until you
get far enough away.”

“Must be a lot of people on this yacht,”
Kirk said. “Crew, bodyguards and others. How are we going to get by
them?”

May Kuan returned the thermos to her satchel
and opened her hand. “The pills,” she said, “you won’t be needing
them.” Kirk and Emily gave them back as she answered his question:
“Everyone is busy helping my uncle prepare for the last night of
the full moon. A traditional celebration, rain or not,” she
explained. “Actually just an excuse for my uncle to throw a
party.”

“The cuffs,” Emily said.

“Lieutenant Hicks has the key,” the doctor
told her.

“Later,” Kirk said to Emily. “We’ll find a
way.”

Emily went with his confidence, then thanked
the doctor with all the sincerity she could muster.

Chapter
87

Alone at Beverly’s, Frank watched the news:
Suicide bomber in the Mideast kills 30. And then a report about a
Texan who shot himself in the head after killing his wife and
kids.

Frank nodded at the screen, convinced that
we live in the best of all possible worlds.

There was a knock at the door. Frank turned
the TV off. He stepped quietly to his suitcase and unlocked it,
took out his silenced Russian pistol and closed the lid. Another
knock came, followed by a man’s voice:

“Police! We’ve got the place surrounded—come
out with your hands up and your pants down!”

Christ sake, Frank thought, someone was out
there being funny. He moved to the blinds by the door and used a
finger to lift a slat. Peering out Frank saw the man standing in
the rain. He had a round face and stout body tented in a
black-hooded raincoat.

The man’s eyes flicked to the open slat.
“C’mon, Kirk,” Donald smiled at Frank’s eye, “My lungs are filled
with water; I’m drowning out here.”

Frank recognized him now: the one who was
with John Kirk last night at Korky’s, drove him to Staub’s shop.
“Sick,” Frank said with a heavy dose of hoarseness.

“Those drinks last night,” Donald said,
“lowered your immune system.”

“Bathroom,” Frank rasped. “Call you later.”
He dropped the slat, then heard Donald’s raised voice: “That’s
okay, I’ll use my key.”

Disgruntled by the nerve of the guy, Frank
headed for the bathroom.

Donald entered, shut the door and slipped
his wet boots off. “Quick bite and I’m gone,” he promised loudly.
“Haven’t eaten in, oh God, at least two hours.” On his way to the
kitchen he stopped at the damp towels laid out on the carpet.
“Looks like you had a spillski.”

Donald noticed the suitcase. “Somebody going
on a trip?” he called toward the bathroom. He went to the suitcase
and lifted the lid. “Holy shit!” he cried out, eyes wide on the
clear-wrapped stacks of hundred dollar bills. “My God, there must
be…must be…”

“Ten million would be near-accurate.” Frank
said.

Donald turned toward the unfamiliar voice,
confused by what he saw. It was Kirk, but somehow…and Donald
wondered why he was pointing a gun at him.

Chapter
88

The midday rain lightened to a drizzle, Kirk
and Emily soaked to the bone. He steadied her as they stepped from
the speedboat onto the dock. “I’ve been such an idiot about Frank,”
Emily said. “I knew going for a married man would be trouble, but
not this much.”

“Told me you’re an actress,” Kirk said.
“Looks like you were fooled by another actor’s performance.”

They stood on the dock and Kirk’s eyes
patrolled the landward bleakness. Starting forward he said, “No one
to greet us.”

“Mister Kirk has a sense of humor,” Emily
smiled. “If you’re telling the truth and it’s really John Kirk I’m
handcuffed to.”

“Have to trust me on that,” he answered.
“And I wasn’t joking about being met here.”

“Who’d be dumb enough to meet us in this
kind of weather?” she asked.

“Our escape,” Kirk said. “Little too easy,
don’t you think?”

“No, because it would mean the doctor
would’ve been part of it,” she told him. “Took too much convincing
to get her to help us.”

“Probably right,” Kirk said. “Hold the
rail,” he warned her, and they climbed the dock’s wet stairs.

Walking toward the parking lot the drizzle
slowed to a stop. “Got Frank’s suit all soggy,” Emily teased. “If
it shrinks it’ll be a perfect fit. And oh, boy,” she added, “he’s
going to be awfully mad about it.”

“And oh, boy,” Kirk said lightly, “what
would he say about your hair?”

“Guess it looks pretty terrible,” Emily
sighed. She took a clump of it and squeezed rain from the drenched
ends. “Doesn’t matter what Frank thinks,” she grumbled, “not after
what he’s put us through.”

They stopped at the edge of the lot. Kirk
glanced around for May Kuan’s Nissan. “By the way,” he said, “your
wet hair and the bruise on your face gives you an attractive wild
and crazy look.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” Emily
smiled doubtfully.

“There it is,” Kirk nodded toward the
Nissan. On their way over to it Kirk pulled the doctor’s paper and
checked the plate.

“Okay, then,” he said, pressing the
alarm-release button. “I’ll get in first,” he told her. “With the
way we’re cuffed, you’ll have to drive.” He handed her May Kuan’s
key.

“Where to?” Emily asked, opening the
driver’s door.

“I’ll give you directions while we drive,”
he said as they got in. Kirk managed his way over the console and
into the passenger seat. The first thing Emily did was to take a
look at her bruised cheekbone in the rearview.

She started the car, Kirk’s cuffed wrist
tagging along with hers. She let the engine idle and turned the
wipers on to clear the windshield. She turned the heat on and put
her damp feet close to a vent under the dash. “Get some of me dry,”
she said.

Emily looked at Kirk’s watch. “Hard to
believe Frank gave that up.”

Kirk eyed the Patek Philippe. “Had to, if he
wanted me to be him,” he said, seeing it was almost 3 p.m. “Hope
he’s enjoying the ol’ Timex,” he added. “Emily,” he stated. “I
don’t know your last name.”

“Fallo,” she said. “Got Mom’s Irish looks
and Dad’s Italian…”

“Spunkiness?” Kirk suggested.

“Unfortunately for you,” Emily smiled.

The wipers screeched over the dry
windshield. Emily shut them off. She put the car in gear, squirmed
uncomfortably and said, “Eww, what a treat, getting to sit in wet
clothes.”

Chapter
89

Beverly drove into her carport space and cut
the engine. She stayed behind the wheel, thinking of her son,
troubled again about his absence. And today, her husband’s
birthday; feeling like Ray’s passing was yesterday.

Beverly’s thoughts turned fearful, scared
over what would happen when Bob’s body was found. Police would
question everybody he knew—she felt a slap on her slicker
sleeve.

“Are you listening to me?” Lisa said.

“Course I am,” Beverly fibbed. She reached
over Lisa’s lap, opened the glove box and took out her bottle of
scotch.

“Not now!” Lisa snapped.

“No, not now,” Beverly fibbed again. She put
the bottle in her purse. “Don’t want to leave it in the car.”

“Okay,” Lisa said, “let’s go over it one
more time.”

“Gawd sake,” Beverly complained, thirsty for
a hit of scotch. “You think I’m stupid or something?”

Lisa wasn’t up to answering that one. “First
thing you do,” she said, “is take your new clothes in with Frank’s
newspaper.”

“I know,” Beverly said.

“Soon as you bring your stuff in, tell Frank
about the new clothes, and that I took mine to my place.”

“Leave the suitcase in the car?” Beverly
asked.

“I knew you weren’t listening,” Lisa
singsonged. Then said, “Before I go to my place with the clothes,
I’m going to put our suitcase in the bedroom closet of the vacant
cottage, along with the shopping bag of extra paperbacks.”

“How’re you going to get in?”

“You’re going to give me the key,” Lisa
groaned.

Beverly reached into her purse and fingered
her way around the Johnny Walker Red she wanted so badly. She dug
out her landlady key ring and worked at getting off the one for
Cottage Two. “Hope I don’t break a nail,” she said.

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Then I come over to
your place with one of my new outfits and tell Frank I want to
change into it, model it for him to see what he thinks.” Lisa
studied Beverly to make sure she was listening. “But because of the
rain and mud I’ll have to take a shower first.”

Beverly finally got the key off the ring and
gave it to her.

“And that’s where you come in,” Lisa
said.

“Oh, good,” Beverly scowled, “this is the
sex part you wouldn’t tell me about. The part I’m going to say no
to, right?”

“Wrong. You’re going to say yes because
you’ll be doing your part while I do the actual sex.”

“Jesus H…” Beverly murmured.

“I’m going to get Frank to take a shower
with me,” Lisa explained. “While I’m in there with him, you take
his suitcase to Cottage Two, switch it with ours, and bring ours
back to your place.”

“I like my part better now,” Beverly said,
still uneasy about the scheme.

“And don’t forget,” Lisa cautioned, “when
both suitcases are together you’ve got to weigh them by hand. Ours
is too heavy, you take out some paperbacks. Ours is too light, you
add some from the shopping bag. And when you’re done, don’t forget
to lock both suitcases.”

“Take a long time to do all that,” Beverly
worried.

“With me priming him in the shower,” Lisa
told her, “and then with us drying off and everything, you’ll have
at least a half hour.”

“Prime him?” Beverly puzzled.

“That’s you, Bev,” Lisa snickered, “born
yesterday.” She said, “It means I’ll use a soapy hand to get him
hard, then let go of it while we kiss and stuff, then work his
thing some more, stopping and starting so it takes a long time
before he squirts.”

Beverly made a gurgling sound, face
contorted in disbelief.

“Jesus,” Lisa said, “for an older woman, you
don’t know much about men.”

“Ray just liked to keep going until he,
y’know, did it,” Beverly confided hesitantly.

“Forget it,” Lisa waved her off. “Let’s just
pin down the last part. Remember what I said on our way back
here?”

“Yup,” Beverly said. “I’m going to tell
Frank you and me have to go back out and do the grocery shopping.”
She glanced through the car windows to make sure no one was out
there. “But what we’re really going to do is take Frank’s suitcase
out of Cottage Two’s closet and drive to Vegas with it.”