Pearl Cove (7 page)

Bloody right. And it couldnt have happened to a nicer bloke. Daves hand came up suddenly,
cutting off any reply. Look, Yank. Im not going to pretend that the world isnt a better
place without that sorry sod. But if I was inclined to make trouble about his death and
Im not Id be talking to his widow. Is that what you want?

For a moment Archer didnt trust himself to speak. Jet lag was gnawing at him like a
hangover, Hannah had been terrified beneath her brittle calm, and now this short-tempered
Outback constable was threatening her.

Harassing Mrs. McGarry would be stupid. Youre not a stupid man, Archer said evenly. May I
see the body now?

You flew a long way to look at a dead man.

Yes.

The cop waved his thick, sunburned hand, trailing a flag of smoke. Go see him, mate. He
wont care. Nobody will.

With wary cops eyes, Dave watched Archer walk away. He didnt know what was on the Yanks
mind. He didnt want to know. Working as a constable out beyond the Black Stump had taught
him that there were two kinds of men: bad men, and bad men to cross. Bad men didnt worry
him. Men like Archer did.

The place where Lens body was being stored looked like what it was, a processing plant for
the Kimberley shorthorn cattle that ran through Australias West like a hoofed red plague.
But it wasnt the right season for slaughter, so the meat locker was cold and empty except
for three cyclone victims. Two were fishermen. One was Len. All three were covered with
what looked like old sheets. The unexpectedly powerful storm had overloaded the tiny
funeral home. Bodies destined for cremation had

been shunted off to less plush surroundings.

Hes the one over there, the teenager said, his voice as rough as his red hair. He was too
young not to be intimidated by death and too old to admit it.

Thank you, Archer said. Id like to be alone with him for a time.

No worries, mate, the kid said, relieved. Close the door hard when you leave.

Archer waited for the door to close hard before he went to the table where Len lay. Even
without the kids instructions, he would have known it was Len; below the torso, the sheet
was nearly flat on the table. He flipped the covering down far enough to see the face and
chest.

He grimaced, but not for himself. The thought of Hannah finding this mangled, battered
flesh made him want to cry out in protest. She didnt deserve to have that horrifying image
sink into her mind, wellspring of future nightmares.

No one deserves all the good or the bad that comes their way. You take it the way it
comes, one day at a time.

Hannahs words echoed in the raging silence of Archers mind. They didnt calm him, but they
made it possible to let go of some of the anger and shove the rest of it down with all the
other brutal images breeding nightmares in his own darkness.

Silently, fighting for the emotional distance that was necessary for what he must do,
Archer studied what had once been his half brother and mentor in the bleak arts of
survival. He remembered Len as a Viking big, brawny, brawling, laughing like a madman one
moment and stone silent the next. All of the silence and some of the brawn remained.
Across the shoulders and in the arms, he was as powerful as Archer. The thick mane of
blond hair had gone white in great, ragged streaks. Whatever marks rage or laughter might
have left on Lens face had been erased by the brutal hammering his body had taken before
and after he died.

The piece of oyster shell lay beside Len, as though no one had been certain what to do
with it. Four inches long, darkly iridescent on one side and sea-roughened cream on the
other, broken at both ends, the shell was shaped like a clumsy, ruined knife. Even against
its background of battered flesh, the death wound was obvious on Lens ribs: it was a
bloody, bruised mouth opened a ringers width in shock. A knife would have left far less
evidence.

Archer shrugged off the soft backpack he wore. The sweaty patch of shirt beneath turned
cold the instant air touched it. He didnt notice, any more than he had noticed the chill
of the room after the first shock. He reached into his backpack, shoved aside the laptop
computer, special cellular phone, and fresh underwear until he found the pencil-slim
flashlight he was looking for.

Icy white light stabbed out, striking a gleaming darkness and rainbow colors from the
oyster shells smooth inner surface. He picked it up and fitted it to the blunt, ragged,
subtly curving wound between broken ribs. With only a slight pressure from his hand, he
pushed the shell in; the previous wound was like a road hacked from a wilderness of intact
flesh and bone.

When the shell would go no farther without being shoved, Archer bent and lined up the
flashlight with the angle of the shell. It was dead on for the heart.

If Hannah was right that Len had been murdered, it hadnt been an overhand shot, but one
that had come up from under. Not the easiest way for a standing man to kill someone in a
wheelchair. But if the target was lying on his back, it would be a simple enough maneuver,
even for a diver with enlarged knuckles and a careful gait. For Flynn it would have been
as easy as smiling.

Archers fingers closed around the shell fragment and rocked it with tiny motions,
loosening it from the ribs. Then he examined the chance weapon beneath the unflinching
white blade of his flashlight. The shell indeed could have killed Len, if it was long
enough.

But it wasnt. Barely an inch of the shell was bloodstained. That wasnt long enough to
reach the heart beyond the protective ribs.

After a final look, Archer put the shell back where he had found it, resting against a
dead mans hand. He rummaged in the backpack again. This time he drew out what looked like
a pair of blunt-nosed pliers. Various tools screwdrivers, a file, a punch, knives were
tucked into the hollow handles of the pliers like blades into a jackknife.

He tried one of the knife blades first. It went in between the ribs far enough to kill,
and it went in without hesitation, without any force, following a path already made by a
larger, broader knife.

Hannah was right. Len had been murdered.

Now that Archer had seen Pearl Coves isolation, he was betting that the murderer was known
to Len, probably even worked on the pearl farm. Hannah certainly hadnt mentioned any
outsider staying through the cyclone. The murderer could still be there, secure in the
general belief that Lens death was accidental rather than deliberate.

Archer looked one last time at what had once been his brother. The big ring Len still wore
gleamed coldly in the harsh light. Archer lifted the cold hand and looked more closely.
Len hadnt worn a ring at any time in Archers memory. This ugly rendition of a rough oyster
shell wasnt a wedding ring neither Len nor Hannah wore one. Nor was it valuable. It had
the feel of stainless steel rather than silver or gold or platinum. In a fight, the ring
could have opened a mans face to the bone.

He wondered if it was a present from Hannah, but rejected the possibility. There was no
beauty in this ring, no grace, no value, nothing to recommend it to anyone but Len, who
never looked at the world as other people did.

Archer slid the ugly, oversized ring off, and put it on the keyring in his pocket. It
wasnt much to remember a murdered brother by, but it was all he had.

He pulled the sheet over Len and left the building with long strides. The more he thought
about Pearl Coves isolation, the less he liked Hannah being there alone. What was once her
home had become enemy ground.

Sitting in Hannahs kitchen Archer looked at her computer and waved away a fly that circled
lazily around his sweaty forehead. He doubted he would find anything useful on her
machine, but she would think it odd if he didnt even try. After all, Pearl Coves accounts
were on the hard drive, and he was supposed to be an interested, if silent, partner in the
enterprise. She had even told him her personal code before she gave in and went to bed.

On very quiet feet, he went to Hannahs bedroom and looked in. She was lying on her
stomach, one hand under her chin and the other buried under the pillow. Lemony light
filled the room. So did heat. Neither one interfered with her deep sleep.

Archer went back to the kitchen, picked up his backpack, and reached for his cell phone.
His brother answered on the first ring.

Took you long enough, Kyle said curtly.

I had to go back to Broome.

Why?

Lens body was there. Archer stared through the screen and wished that the air whispering
through the verandah could wash away the stink of the meat locker. But it couldnt. Nothing
could except time.

Alotofit.

The quality of Archers voice told Kyle that whatever his brother had found in Broome wasnt
pretty. How bad?

Bad enough. He closed his eyes, trying to banish the memory of Len laughing, of Len
wounded, of Len raging against his useless legs, of Len lying mangled and murdered in a
beef locker. He shifted his grip on the cellular that scrambled outgoing calls and decoded
incoming ones from other Donovan phones. What do you have for me?

Are you alone? Kyle asked.

Archer thought of Hannah in the next room and of her deep, exhausted sleep despite the
tropical brilliance of the afternoon. Yet even in the bottomless well of sleep, she
twitched and moaned as though pursued.

He had told her about Lens knife wound.

He hadnt wanted to add to the horror of the nightmares that undoubtedly stalked her sleep,
but he had done it just the same. She had flinched once. Just that. No more. A flickering
of the eyelids, a sudden pallor around her lips, the clenching of narrow fingers into a
fist. Then she had turned and walked into her bedroom. He had wanted to follow, to comfort
her. He hadnt. He didnt trust himself to stop with a brotherly hug.

Nor was his own mind, his own sleep, free of nightmares. Some people werent affected by
naked violence. Many simply got used to it after the first few times. For others, a
lifetime wasnt enough. Archer was one of them.

He hoped that Hannah wasnt another. For now, its just me, he said. If I get elliptical,
youll know what happened. Damn, Archer, you sound whipped. I am. Hannah is worse off. Shes
been living on catnaps for five days. Ouch. She must be hallucinating.

Edging right up to it. He glanced toward the open bedroom door and spoke softly. Thats one
gutsy, tough lady. She didnt let go until she knew someone was here to stand guard.

So whos going to guard you while you sleep?

The Tooth Fairy. Archer swallowed another yawn and reached for the lethal cup of coffee
that was sitting on a small table next to the graceful, sensual sculpture. Talk to me.
What do you have on her?

I sent a lot of stuff to your coded email, if you want more details. Otherwise, Ill just
hit the high points.

Archer grunted and shifted in the rattan chair, making it creak. The verandahs hammock
chair tempted him, but he wasnt certain it was up to his weight.

Hannah McGarry didnt exist in any files I could find from the time she was five until she
married Len McGarry and applied for a passport, Kyle said. Her parents were U.S. citizens
who lived overseas except for five years in Maine, presumably to give birth and get Hannah
through the most dangerous years for a kids survival. Her mother is dead. Her fathers
passport is still current, so I presume hes alive.

They were missionaries who lived with the Yanomami in Brazil. Or did ten years ago. He
probably still does. It was what he loved more than he loved his daughter. They disowned
her when she ran off with Len. Archer swallowed some more bitter coffee. Before that,
Hannah was raised in the Brazilian rain forest in a Yanomami hunting camp.

That would explain the lack of documentation. Her marriage was recorded in Macao. Civil
ceremony. You were the only witness.

No news there for Archer. The memory of that day wasnt one of his favorites. Savage heat,
acrid smoke from street vendors grills hazing the air, the hurry and stink of poverty
chasing wealth, the dreams in Hannahs eyes and the emptiness in Lens.

Archer? You awake?

Keep talking, he said, because it was better than saying what he was thinking: he had been
a fool for ever thinking that Hannahs sweet innocence could neutralize, much less heal,
Lens bitter experience. I m here.

Her passport shows a lot of action in the next three years.

All over Southeast Asia, Malaysia, Philippines, every port Id ever heard of and some I
hadnt. No credit record, though. They must have paid cash for everything, including the
ten days she spent in a hospital in Kuching.

Hospital? When? Why?

About four months after she was married, she got real sick. The records just said
something about a fever of unknown origin. They came within an ace of losing her, first to
fever and then to bleeding. Shes A positive, by the way.

Did she have one of those hemorrhagic fevers?

No. She miscarried a seven-month fetus. Stillbirth. A boy. Hard to believe we had a little
nephew and never knew it.

Archer didnt answer. He couldnt. He could barely breathe around the vise gripping his gut.
Len had never mentioned Hannahs near-fatal illness or the loss of their child.

Did you know about that? Kyle asked after a minute.

No.

Though Archer said nothing more, Kyle knew his brother too well to be fooled by silence.

It got to me, too, Kyle said simply. I went and found Lianne and held her, just held her.
When I felt our babies move, I didnt know whether to laugh or cry.

The uncertainty of life and the finality of death haunted Kyles voice as surely as it
haunted Archers mind. He forced himself to breathe, to talk, to reassure his youngest
brother that their twins would be the lucky ones, the ones who not only survived but
thrived.

Dont worry about Lianne and your twins, Archer said. Len dragged Hannah through some of
earth s deepest hellholes. He didnt live fancy, either. What the natives ate, he ate. What
they drank, he drank. That didnt change after he got married.

I know. I rechecked the passport stamps after I found the hospital records. A week here.
Two weeks there. Two days at the next place. Sometimes only a few hours. Flying all over
the South Pacific with side trips to Japan or Jakarta just for variety. Was it a
coincidence that every place Len went grew, traded, or smuggled pearls?

No.

Kyle waited, but his brother didnt say anything more. He started to snap at the lack of
response; then he remembered that his brother had been up for more than twenty-four hours,
had seen his half brothers corpse, and had just found out about the baby nephew they would
never get to nuzzle and tease and love.

I gotta say, Kyle muttered, our half brother had shitty taste in friends. I ran the names
of some of the people he met with. Bad cess. Really bad. Right down there in the toilet
with the Red Phoenix Triad. Different names, of course. Same slime.

When you go looking for secrets, you make your bargains where you have to.

Was he a spook?

Archer didnt want to answer, but he did. Len had been Kyles brother, too. He began as an
officer in a U.S. foreign intelligence agency. He finished as a mercenary. Sometimes he
worked for us. Sometimes for them. And always he worked for himself.

Im not sure I like the sound of that.

You have good instincts. But remember Len didnt start out where he ended up. What else
did you find out about Hannah?

She keeps the books for Pearl Cove. She orders equipment locally and electronically. If
she shops locally for clothes or cosmetics, she pays cash. The farm has open accounts at
several places in Broome.

What kind of payment record?

Pretty good. Not great. Just okay. The last year must have been hard. Some of the accounts
started dunning.

How serious is it?

Pearl Cove is on a cash-only basis with an outfit called Smithe and Sons Equipment. The
Broome Green Grocer is a little more flexible, up to one hundred dollars Australian. She
orders mens and women s clothes by credit card at a virtual store that specializes in
casual tropical gear. She orders books at several virtual used-book stores and book
exchanges. Reads everything from science fiction to philosophy, with stops in between for
Chinese poetry and girl fiction.

Girl fiction?

Yeah, stories about family and marriage and love, that sort of stuff.

Archer grunted and drank more coffee. The breeze through the verandahs screen door was
heavy with brine. The temperature was as close to cool as it got in Broome in late
November. Anything else?

If she ever saw a doctor, it was the kind who kept old-fashioned handwritten files. Lens
doctor was modern. Kept his files electronically and used the virtual diagnostic sites all
the time. Lens spine was slowly deteriorating. His doctor had him on morphine. If the
local bottle shop is any indication, Len had himself on booze. Or is it Hannah whos heavy
on the sauce?

If she is, you cant smell it on her breath or her skin.

That close, huh? Fast work, bro.

Shove it.

Ah, theres the Archer we all know and love.

Shove that, too, he said without heat. Im emailing a list of Pearl Coves employees for the
past year. See what you can get on them. He yawned wide enough to make his jaw crack.

Kyle snickered. It wasnt often he had his oldest brother at a disadvantage. Bet youre not
going to be a chirpy little camper at dawn tomorrow the way you usually are.

No bet. Archer rubbed eyes that felt like they had gone skinny-dipping in sand. Anything
else?

Nope. Her name never appeared on any of the singles sites or the sexual chat rooms, so
virtual sex isnt her thing.

She could have used an alias, Archer pointed out.

Hello, this is Kyle, the brother who can spin rings around you on a computer. Remember me?
I can track an alias faster than you can think.

Good thing I cant reach you, runt. Runt? Ill runt you the next time I get you on a gym
mat. Yeahyeahyeah. Lianne can dump you on your ass without breaking a sweat. Lianne can
put me on my ass any time, anywhere, and any way she wants. Naked is her favorite.

The smug, utterly male note in Kyles voice made Archer feel a lot more than thirty-seven,
going on thirty-eight. He felt ancient, desolate, a ruin on top of a stony hill with
nothing but the empty sky for company.

I left a list of Lens phone calls for the last six months in your coded email, Kyle
continued. Cellular or land phone? Both. Right. Thanks.

Right, huh? Less than a day and youre sounding like an Aussie. Its called camouflage,
Archer said dryly. Youll need it. Be careful, bro. Very, very careful. My gut wants you
the hell out of Australia. Im always careful. Bye, Kyle. And thanks.

Archer turned off the cell phone, opened his own computer, accessed the email, and studied
the lists of phone calls Len had made. Often the names were familiar. Pearl players, for
the most part. Many were honest. More were honest only when they had to be. The rest were
strangers. All in all, Len had known and dealt with some unsavory-to-dangerous men.
Smugglers, government fixers, triad interfaces, people who lived well outside the law and
liked it that way.

Nothing in the lists reassured Archer that the job of finding Lens killer would be easy.
Nor did he dismiss Kyles gut feeling that there was danger. His brothers hunches were
better than most mens solid facts.

Another day here, at most. After that, the word would be out that Archer Donovan was at
Pearl

Cove. Isolated. Working alone. The predators would descend and it would simply be too
dangerous for him to stay on.

Unless Len had been working for Uncle. That would give Archer more time, more leverage to
use against whoever had wanted Len dead.

Uncle.

Archer stared at his cell phone as if it was a grenade with the pin out and the spoon held
down by a frayed thread. Then he picked the phone up and punched in the number he hated to
use.

Because as long as he used that number, Uncle Sam would have his number, too.

***

What did you say? Archer asked, turning suddenly toward Hannah. She had come into the
kitchen a few minutes ago and silently fixed a pot of coffee. Her nap had left creases on
the right side of her face, as though she had fallen into bed and not moved once. Her
shorts and tank top were a silvery gray that reminded him of pearls.

I asked how you liked our computer, she repeated. Our as in Lens and yours? She swallowed
a yawn and rubbed the right side of her face where sweaty skin itched. Right.

Archer stared at the computer like it was a loaded gun. Knowing Len, it could easily be
just that. Yet it had seemed very innocent sitting on a rattan table in an alcove off the
kitchen. And it had worked well enough for him on Pearl Coves accounts. Hannahs simple
password Today had opened up everything on the hard drive.

It had taken less than an hour to verify that, as a business, Pearl Cove was ninety-eight
percent in the toilet. Len had borrowed against everything at least twice, and that
included pearl futures.

Of course, there could be another set of books somewhere. In fact, Archer would have bet a
lot on it. The question was where.

He glanced at Hannah. Her nap had helped to focus her, but she was still nearly dead on
her feet. So you both used this computer? he asked, hardly able to believe it.