Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine 03/01/11 (4 page)

“Damn it, Deacon, you’re my guardian, not my jailer!” Aliana flared, turning on him furiously. “I ordered a boat from these bumpkins and I want it properly fitted. If one agent hiding in the woods frightens you, maybe I should ask my father for a new security chief.”

“Perhaps you should, miss. We can both fly home tomorrow to discuss the question in person. And see which of us your father believes.”

Aliana went pale, reading the tall African’s face. But she didn’t back off an inch.

“Deacon, I love you like an uncle, you know that. But if you drag me back to Damascus, I swear you’ll die in the desert with your mouth full of salt!”

It should have been no contest, the seven-foot warrior glaring down at the tiny slip of a woman. But size and force of will have little to do with each other.

“If you insist, miss,” Deacon conceded grudgingly. “One more visit.”

“Thank you, sweetness,” Aliana said, reaching up to cup the giant’s cheek with her palm. “You’re my oldest and dearest. Shall we go?”

But as the security team headed for the Navigators, Deacon glanced back at Luke. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t have to. The fury in his eyes would have spooked a lion off a fresh kill.

“Maybe you should stay in town with Aunt Min for a while,” Luke said, standing with Gus, watching the Navigators roar round the cove into the forest.

“Aw hell,” the old man groaned. “You’re not getting involved with that woman, are you?”

Luke didn’t answer, which was answer enough.

“She’s a pretty thing, I’ll grant you that,” Gus conceded, “but you can buy pretty in a bottle at Walgreens. Didn’t you hear that ‘die with your mouth full of salt’ business? There’s a difference between a woman with spirit and one with an evil temper.”

“Which did my grandmother have?”

“Both,” the old man admitted. “But those were simpler times.”

“Better times,” Luke said. “That’s my point. We may have serious trouble coming, Gus. I can smell it on the wind, like a storm just over the horizon.”

“I feel it, too,” Gus agreed. “Don’t worry about me, Grandson, I won’t get in your way. Nowadays, I’m almost invisible anyway. ”

“So they kissed, so what?” Ridley said at the stakeout later that afternoon. “Why should we care about her love life?”

“Because they went to some trouble to conceal it from her bodyguards,” Larkin said. “We could e-mail a warning to her father, stir things up.”

“How does getting Falk stomped by Markovic’s goons help us? I know the boat builder ticked you off, but stay on point, Gordie. We only want the woman. Did you plant a stash on her boat?”

“Haven’t had the chance,” Larkin admitted. “Falk’s up at first light, works in his shop until dark. He never leaves, and except for occasional customers, nobody visits. And that damned dog is around, twenty-four/seven.”

“You’d better figure something out quick. I can’t cover your ass much longer.”

“You won’t have to. I’ve got an idea.”

“What idea?” Ridley asked. But when Larkin ignored the question, Ridley didn’t press it. He really didn’t want to know.

The yuppie couple seemed a bit off to Luke, though he wasn’t sure why. They looked wealthy enough to be shopping for expensive toys. She was tall, slim, and blond, he was shorter and chunkier, but both dressed well and they were driving a vintage Mercedes 450SL convertible. They asked the right questions, or at least he did. She seemed a bit uneasy. Maybe they weren’t quite as rich as they looked.

They walked through the workshop and oohed and aahed over the
Penny
, but didn’t ask to take her out, so Luke wasn’t surprised when they drove off without placing an order.

“Who were those two?” Gus asked, wandering into the shop from the deck with Razzy at his heels. In the distance, the Mercedes was vanishing around the final curve into the forest.

“Potential customers,” Luke grunted, sighting down a spar, checking the curve.

“You sure?” Gus said. “While the husband was looking over the
Penny
, the woman ducked back into the shop. I thought she was looking for the john but she was only gone a moment. She gave her husband a look when she came out. Right after that, he checked his watch and said they had to leave—” He broke off as Razzy began growling low in her throat, her hackles rising as she stared down the cove road.

“Apparently Razz didn’t like them either,” Luke said.

“She never growls when people leave,” Gus said, frowning. “Only at strangers coming in.” Then they both heard it, the sound of engines roaring in the distance, drawing closer by the second as Razzy snarled louder in defiance.

Gus and Luke exchanged a split-second glance of understanding. “The woman,” Luke snapped as he ducked into the shop. “Where did she go in here?”

“I didn’t see,” Gus said, “but she was only in here a few seconds. It’ll be near the door.”

“Got it,” Luke said, snatching up a small paper bag stuffed behind a bench grinder and upending it. A small automatic pistol fell out, along with two glassine bags of white powder.

“What the hell is that?” Gus asked.

“About ten years in prison,” Luke said, removing the magazine from the gun butt, tossing it aside. Grabbing an acetylene torch, he opened the valves and lit it up.

“What are you doing?” Gus asked.

“Cooking.” Dropping the pistol and the packets onto a ceramic retort, he seared them with the torch, spraying the room with sparks as the pistol and powder disintegrated. “Who is it?”

“Them two feds from last week,” Gus said, “and they got a posse with ’em.” The blue Blazer skidded to a halt, with a Valhalla county prowl car and a black police van close behind, flak-jacketed cops piling out while the vehicles were still rocking. A burly deputy carrying a riot gun came charging up the steps.

“Search warrant! Put your hands on the wall!”

“Screw yourself, fat boy,” Gus flared, folding his arms, blocking the doorway.

“I said move it!” Shouldering Gus aside, the deputy bulled into the shop, covering Luke, who carefully switched off his torch and set it aside. “Up against the wall, mister! Move! Get the dope dog in here!”

“Wait a minute!” Luke said. “You can’t bring a dog—”

But he was too late. A female officer leading a dope-sniffing Alsatian Shepherd had trailed the deputy up the steps—

Razzy exploded past Gus like an ebony rocket, barreling into the Alsatian, both dogs snarling and snapping at each other, whirling like demons. Taken by surprise, the lady cop tried to pull her dog off, but the Alsatian was too strong and his blood was up.

Leaping into the fray, Gus grabbed Razzy’s collar, and got his wrist torn open for his trouble. The raid was in total confusion now, cops yelling, dogs slashing at each other. Gus was still in the scrum, still trying to pull Razzy free when Larkin charged up the steps, weapon at the ready.

“Restrain your animal!” he yelled at Gus. Then he shot Razzy, the gun exploding like a thunderclap. The slug caught the old Lab high in the shoulder, tumbling her onto her back, yelping in pain, with the Alsatian in snarling pursuit.

With a roar, Luke came flying through the shop doorway, tackling Larkin chest-high, both men crashing through the deck rail, slamming to the ground, hard, with Luke on top. Slapping Larkin’s gun hand aside, Luke drove a fist into the agent’s face, flattening his nose. Before he could swing again, two deputies pinned Luke’s arms, dragging him off.

Scrambling to his feet, blood streaming from his mouth, Larkin drove a knee into Luke’s groin, doubling him over, then jammed the gun muzzle against his forehead, his eyes wild with killing fury—

“Hold it right there!”
the sheriff yelled. “What the hell are you doing?” Sheriff Jerry Garrison was a big-bellied man, in a tan summer uniform. Pushing fifty, he was a bit slower than the others. He’d been last out of the car, but he was in charge now.

“Officer Kincaid, get your damn Alsatian into that building and get on with the search! Agent Larkin, if you strike that prisoner again you’ll be in the cell next to his!”

“Falk attacked me!” Larkin protested. “You all saw it!”

“Put a cork in it!” Garrison barked. “This is my crime scene and so far we’ve got no crime. Gus, are you okay?”

“Hell no!” Gus was sitting on the deck, cradling Razzy in his arms. “Your police dog tore my arm open, or maybe Razzy did, I ain’t sure. What the hell is this about, Jerry?”

“We’re executing a search warrant, Gus. This agent had a tip about drugs and illegal weapons on the premises,” Garrison growled, jerking a thumb at Larkin. “How about it, Kincaid? Find anything?”

“The dog got a little antsy by the rear door,” the lady cop said, emerging with the Alsatian firmly in tow. “There’s definitely no dope on the premises, and as for firearms, all we found was a rack of hunting rifles—”

“Those are mine!” Gus said.

“And we found this.” The lady cop held up the slim black magazine from the automatic. “Looks like it’s from a thirty-two auto.”

“What about it, Falk?” Garrison asked. “Where’s the gun it belongs to?”

“Ask Larkin,” Luke growled. “His stooge planted it.”

“Search again!” Larkin ordered. “The gun must be there!”

“I doubt that,” the lady cop said. “There was a puddle of slag metal near the clip, still hot. Looks like somebody melted something with an acetylene torch.”

“Is that true, Falk?” Garrison demanded.

“I use torches every day, Sheriff. I was using one when you guys drove up.”

“He must have destroyed the weapon,” Larkin snapped. “That proves it was illegal!”

“What was illegal about it?” Luke asked. “Stolen? Serial number filed off? How would you know that, Larkin? Unless you planted it?”

“The gun doesn’t matter anymore, Falk. You’re under arrest. Assault on a federal officer!”

“I wouldn’t push that, Agent Larkin,” Sheriff Garrison said sourly.

“The sonofabitch broke my nose!”

“And you shot his dog! Any north-country judge would cut Falk loose and hang your ass, if we had a death penalty. This is my jurisdiction, my call, and I’m making it. You got a bad tip, Larkin. We didn’t find any dope and there’s no law against owning a puddle of molten steel. Pack it up, people! We’re done! Gus, do you want us to run your dog in to the vet?”

“I’ll see to my dog, Jerry. The bullet’s through and through. That stupid bastard is a worse shot than he is a cop.”

“You’d better watch your mouth, grandpa,” Larkin said.

“And you’d better pay up your life insurance, mister,” Gus retorted. “You ain’t long for this world.”

“That’s it!” Larkin snapped. “Sheriff, arrest this man for threatening a federal officer.”

“That wasn’t a threat, sonny,” Gus said, “it was a fact. Mastodons used to live around here, saber-tooths too. People find their bones in these hills. Big critters, bigger than you, even. But too stupid to live. The way a man who’d shoot an old dog is too stupid to live.”

“Sheriff?” Larkin demanded.

Garrison sighed. “I don’t hear a threat. Only an old-timer talkin’ about dinosaurs. We’ve got no cause to arrest anybody except maybe each other for disturbing the peace. Let’s go, people! We’re out of here! You too, Agent Larkin. Move it.”

Luke was still clearing up the damage from the search, when Razzy growled from her bed, struggling to rise as Gus held her collar, trying to keep her from loosening her bandages.

Picking up his grandfather’s Winchester, Luke stood in the shadow of the doorway as the two black Navigators rolled into the yard. The three guards spread out, taking up positions around the yard. But instead of coming in, Deacon held the door open for Aliana, then folded his arms, waiting beside the vehicle as she stalked up the shop ramp alone.

Stepping inside, her smile faded as she read their faces. Kneeling beside Razzy, she patted her grizzled head. “What happened here?” she asked quietly.

“Your two feds raided us, with county law for backup. Looking for drugs, they said.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” Aliana said. “I should never have come here.”

“It’s a bit late for that,” Luke said. “What’s the rest of it? Why did you come? I didn’t call you about the boat.”

“No. My situation has changed as well. My father received an e-mail warning from federal authorities, probably the same agents who were here. They sent documents that show you were discharged from the army as unstable. They say you’re a danger to me, and offered me federal protection.”

“I was a little nuts after Iraq,” he admitted. “I must be over it, though. That piece of crap who shot my dog is still breathing.”

“A holy warrior,” she smiled wanly.

“I had my war, Aliana, now I just want a life. I can’t promise things will work out for us, but—”

“Our time together was a nice dream, Luke, but it’s morning now. Your government has voided my passport. My father fears I’ll be arrested soon, to be used as a bargaining chip against him. He’s shutting down our operations in America. I’ve been ordered back to Damascus.”

“He’s got a right to be worried,” Luke conceded. “Those two ATF clowns are off the leash. What will you do?”

“I’ll be safe at the Syrian embassy in Detroit. They can arrange a flight to Damascus for me. We have a magnificent home there. As a child I loved it, but now . . .” She took a deep breath. “I was wondering . . . if you’d consider coming with me?”

He stared at her.

“Come live with me and be my love,” he quoted dryly. “And do what, exactly? Build boats in the desert?”

“Do whatever you wish.”

“I’ve done my time in the desert, Aliana. Things went terribly wrong for me there. I can’t go back. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” she said briskly. “I told you it was impossible, remember? Sell the
Penny
for me, Mr. Falk, donate the proceeds to your tribal charities if you like—”

“Luke’s grandmother was teaching second grade when we met,” Gus interrupted, stroking Razzy’s massive head. “I came down from Canada with a Cree logging crew. We were rough boys in those days, wore our hair long, sported buckskin shirts and skinning knives. Back then, folks didn’t call us Native Americans, we were just Indians. Wild ones at that. Most townies crossed the street to avoid us. Or spat in the gutter as we passed. Kathleen was no different. It took weeks to talk her into going out with me. An Irish girl, fair skin and freckles, fiery red hair, fiery red temper. But she was the perfect woman. For me, anyway.”