The Housewife Assassin's Killer App (33 page)

“You’ve got him tied to a bomb?”

He shrugs. “Couldn’t help it. When you’re in the wilderness, you have to improvise. I was saving the big bang surprise for the Lark’s closing night nerd fest—you know, a ‘last supper’ motif, as it were. It was to be blamed on The Clark Kent League and its motley crew of cypherpunks, out to avenge the Mad Hacker’s death. Instead, they’ll get blamed for blowing me to kingdom come. That’s okay. I wasn’t cut out to be a desk jockey anyway.”
 

“Good riddance,” I mutter as I toss him the game keys and start for the door.
 

He slips them into his blazer pocket. “Now, the key to the boat.”

I hesitate. Finally, I toss it to him too.

“Where will I find it?”

“Follow the footpath on the right to the tennis courts. You’ll see another one marked deer crossing, also on the right. It’ll be tied to the pier.”

He grabs me roughly by the wrist. “Of course, you’ll have to play first mate. I can’t have witnesses who claim I’m still alive.”
 

I struggle to pull away. My reward is a slap across the face.
 

“Hey, you’ve got no one to blame but yourself, little ‘Lucy.’ That’s your name this week, isn’t it? You always want to be in the show.” His Ricky Ricardo accent leaves a lot to be desired. “Time to blow this joint.”
 

I try to wrench my arm away, but he holds tight, laughing. “Chillax! It’s just a figure of speech!” He hands me a cell phone. “He’s safe—as long as you’re the one holding the detonator, right?” He bows toward the path. “After you, milady.”

Carl makes me walk in front of him on the dark path. There is no moon out tonight. The stars are bright, but their light barely penetrates the canopy of fir branches above us.
 

When I trip, he snickers.

He never was much of a gentleman.

The boat is dark. Arnie and Abu could see my dilemma via my lenses, so they know the score. No need to be caught in the crossfire. They must stay to fight another day.

Sort of like a video game.

If they haven’t gotten to Jack as of yet, perhaps Dominic has, and I’ll be out to sea—

With Carl.

They’ll never find the body, be it his, or mine.

He shoves me off the pier, onto the boat’s deck. I land on all fours.

He whistles appreciatively. “Doggie style. Love it.”

He unties the rope at the stern before jumping down himself and tossing it at me. “If you get the urge to hang yourself, I promise I won’t talk you out of it.”
 

“Fuck you.”

He laughs. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The engine purrs as he backs it away from the pier. When he has a wide enough berth, he turns the wheel so that we head in the opposite direction.

We’re only a hundred yards or so from shore when we hear the blast—coming from behind us.

My head whips around in time to see the blaze, barely above the treetops.

I charge toward him, fists flying. “You son of a bitch! You said…
you said I was holding the detonator!
”

He slaps me. I stagger backward. “And for once you believed me. Go figure.” He shrugs.

Jack is gone.

He was there for me from the start, and had my back until the end. He was the only man who loved me without question. He was my most passionate lover.

He was a true father to my children.

And if Dominic and Abu and Arnie were with him, I’ve lost my dear friends and colleagues too.

Right now, I wish that rope were around my neck.

Better yet, Carl’s.
 

My fist will have to do.
 

I rise too fast for him to react. I aim for his Adam’s apple. The punch leaves him gasping. While he’s doubled over, I bang his head into the console—a couple of times, in fact, just to make sure he gets the point that I’m more than a little upset with him.
 

Carl is too groggy to fight me as I take the intel keys—the five game keys, and the master thumb drive— out of his blazer pocket.
 

His windpipe is bruised enough that his breathing is labored. If I had a plastic bag handy, I could stop it altogether.
 

At least I have the rope—somewhere topside.
 

I scurry up the ladder leading to the deck.

I’m on the last rung when I feel Carl’s hand grab my ankle.
 

But before he can yank me backward, I toss the intel keys overboard with all my might.
 

Like me, he hears six splashes as the keys hit the calm surface of the sea.

His howl of rage echoes over the water.

It is the last thing I hear before my head hits the galley floor, and I black out.

The icy water shocks me out of blissful unconsciousness and into my hellish reality.

Carl has hog-tied me. My hands are bound together behind my back, as are my legs, which are folded so that ankles can be tied to my wrists.

His voice is raspy but he still shouts, “I’ll make sure that the children remember you fondly.” He waves to me as the boat roars away.
 

I’m still face up, but I know I’ll soon be sucked down into the deep, dark abyss below the water’s surface, so I try to fill my lungs with as much oxygen as possible.

Easier said than done when the next explosion takes place several moments later. The blast is like a comet, only the fireball flies skyward. The force of it tosses me into the air, too. My flight is only a few seconds, followed by an eternity of dread as I plunge back into sea.
 

By the time I rise to the surface, my lungs are ready to explode. I’m caught in a an undertow that sucks me down then spits me back out. If I spot stars overhead, I take it as my cue to breathe deeply.

I pray that Carl did not survive the blast, but if so, that the roiling tide is pulling him under, too.

I’d like to think that his final breath comes before mine.

“How does it feel to die?” Hal wonders.

“Don’t ask,” I whisper.
 

“Must we be maudlin?” Dominic opines.

“Are you here, too?” I struggle to open my eyes, but my lids are weighted with pain.
 

And with the fear of what I will find when I open them.
 

No longer tied, my hands shoot out in front of me. I don’t know if I should take this as a good sign or not. My children aren’t in heaven, so being there without them would be a living hell.

I’m afraid to ask, but I must. “Did Jack…did he make it?”

I am answered with a kiss.

I’d recognize those lips anywhere. They are my heaven.

The kiss has lifted the weights from my eyes. I see stars all around.
 

We are floating through the air.
 

When I shift my gaze to the left, I find myself staring into Jack’s soft green eyes.
 

Over the steady chop of blades slicing clouds in the cool night sky, I hear myself ask, “How did you survive the cabin blast?”

“Dominic,” he answers as he nuzzles my cheek. “He was smart enough to look in the window and climb through it, as opposed to opening the door, which was attached to a trip wire.”

Carl stopped me from going inside.

Carl saved my life.

Still, that doesn’t excuse him for being the most awful person in the world.

“Unfortunately, our host, Gaylord, wasn’t as lucky,” Dominic says. “When he went looking for Carl—a.k.a., Charles Babbage—he took the more civilized entrance.”

I shake my head. “The front door.”
 

“Word is already out about his untimely demise, and Gryphon’s stock is in free fall,” Hal informs us. “Rumor has it that i.Me will acquire—that is, if anyone can get ahold of Milton, so that he can put it in play.” Hal sighs. “I guess the sharks will be circling i.Me next.”
 

“Jack, how did Carl ambush you?” I ask.

“He never left his cabin. He opted to eat in his room,” Jack explains. “He heard me jiggle the knob and hid behind the door. He hit me with the butt of his gun. When he saw me with Milton’s face, I’m sure he panicked at the thought that he’d knocked out one of his bidders. But, at some point he realized I was a fake. In fact, he’d previously met Milton at a Catherine Martin for President fundraiser. When Abu and Arnie heard you were on your way to the boat with Carl, they rigged it to blow when it reached a certain speed. They left the i.Me tablet on the boat. If you had seen it and signed in, Hal would have told you to jump.”

I grimace. “I didn’t see it. I was too busy fighting Carl.” I think for a moment. “If the tablet with Hal blew up with the boat, how can he be here, too?”

“Remember? I sync’d your iOS to my iPad while I vetted it,” Arnie explains. He holds it up.
 

“Miss me?” Hal asks.

“Yes,” I answer earnestly. “And you”—I point to Abu—“and you”—I point to Arnie—“but not you.” I point to Dominic.

“Bugger off,” he mutters. His wink means I’m forgiven.

Jack frowns. “I guess Carl did you a favor by trying to kill you.”

“Don’t tell him that,” I retort.

It dawns on me that neither of us will ever get a chance to tell him anything, ever again.

I should be happy about that. Instead, I feel empty.

Without him, I would never have had Mary, Jeff and Trisha.

And for better or worse, he made me who I am today.

For that I owe him something.

Chapter 19

PostScript

“PostScript” is a computer language for vector graphics, used in desktop publishing programs. Without PostScript your screens would see gibberish, and your printed manuscripts would look like hell.

“Postscript” (lower-case “s”) is a paragraph, or phrase added to a letter that has already been concluded and signed by the writer.

A mother’s last thought is always about her children.

Needless to say, she will always have the last word.

Just sayin’.

I can no longer look at stars in an indigo night without thinking of death and salvation.