Ellis said, “I don’t know how you’ll sleep. You’ll definitely wake up better.”
Ben smiled. “Roger that. Pissing you off is bad business. I’m still not sure who your friends are in all this.”
Ellis looked uneasy. “Me neither. Dyze and them might not keep their word about my cut, what with their odd Smith Island notions of family.”
A quartering wave surged under Miss Dotsy’s stern. Then two more waves canted and rocked her.
Ellis said, “Let’s not all answer at once.”
Ben said, “How do I put this? Dyze is tricky. He’ll keep an oath with — neighbors.”
“But I’m a horse of a different color.”
“I’d hate to think it. Might be the case. Don’t worry. We’ll watch out. Lots to do between now and then. Lots to talk about.”
With a practiced hand, Ellis eased the tiller to best traverse another wave. “Right. Suppose it’s like Lorton said, we’ll burn that cross when we come to it. Meantime, what about that bomb? We going to straighten that out?”
Ben said, “No. Not now. Have to let the timer get a little shorter. That’s the only way I know how to trim its fuse, so to speak.”
Ellis was angry. “Hold it. We have LuAnna back. You said we would take care of the bomb when she was safe. Now she’s safe, so let’s get to it!”
“She told me if Chalk bests us, he might want to hang out on Smith Island. So take your pick. Chalk, or the bomb? Which would you like?”
Ellis said, “He can have the island. We can afford to buy a new one. For me, I’m concentrating on not getting shot, and not getting nuked. The problem seems to be getting killed either way from listening to your fool sophistries, and not doing anything about any of it. If your Pap was Ulysses, you’re Hamlet, dithering all over the damn place.”
Ben said, “I need you to trust me. I think I’ve got the bomb figured out.”
Ellis fell silent. “Okay Ben. I’ll go with you on this, even though you don’t seem sure of me yet. No problem. Now, we’re almost sure Chalk is poking around for our gold on Deep Banks. We check there first?”
Ben smiled. “Maybe. Let’s give him a jingle.” He pulled out The Kid’s mobile phone.
CHAPTER 40
Maynard Chalk, Bill Slagget, and Tahereh hung on with death grips in her careening inflatable. The boat was designed to plane at high speeds, not slow-tow balky loads like Hiram’s outboard skiff. A ride on Coney Island’s Cyclone would have been restful in comparison. Tahereh vomited. Chalk appreciated that she parked her cookies to leeward.
Tahereh’s three surviving men all bailed the skiff astern as if their lives depended on it, which was actually the case. If the makeshift patches on the bullet holes did not stay put, and they gave every indication they wouldn’t, the skiff would founder with all hands. That was Chalk’s promise anyway. No reversing the inflatable’s course to hunt for survivors. Or as he phrased it, No bobbing for Ba’athists. Let them deal. They’d put the damn holes there in the first place. For now the old skiff yanked and tugged at the towline like a peevish wallowing hog.
Chalk recalled The Kid saying he’d seen Ben Blackshaw toting a shovel. With Tahereh’s team neutralized and pressed into service, they were now going back to Deep Banks for a closer look. Chalk would like to see Dick and his son dig up his gold, and then scratch a little deeper for their own graves.
Chalk’s phone blared a few bars of the Merry Macs playing their hit Mairzy Doats. He answered, “Scrote-Lick! About time! Let’s have it.”
A panicky voice, pitched high and pressured, talking fast. “Where’s Corporal Bryce? What’d you do with her?”
Not The Kid. Chalk bellowed, “Who’s this?”
The caller sounded like he was trying to keep his cool, but was failing. “You dropped by my place this morning.”
“Ben Blackshaw? Son of a gun! Put The Kid on for a second.”
“First answer my question! Where’s Corporal Bryce? I know you’ve got her. Don’t you?”
“Simmer down, peckernut. Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.” Chalk knew he was back in control. By the sound of it, the Blackshaw whelp was about to crap his drawers with worry. “How about my property. Let’s confab a little about that.”
“I have the gold. And the other thing. I’ll trade it all for LuAnna safe and sound.”
“Oh my! A big-time wheeler-dealer! And chivalrous, too. Fair enough. You just bought yourself one slightly used officer of the law.”
“If you hurt her—”
“You’ll do what, marsh monkey? What the fuck will you do? Not a damn thing, that’s what. Now you bring my shit out to Point No Point Lighthouse before sunset. Think you can manage that? And come alone. Do it, or your gal’s gonna get to know my boys a whole lot better. Three at a time. We have an understanding?”
“No! Please don’t do that!”
“Do what I say and we got no problems. And here’s the kicker, you little shit. Fuck with me again, and you’ll never see the girl, or your mother! I got her, too! You miss her tucking you in for prayers at bedtime? Well, I got her, and you can take that to the bank, punk!” Chalk ended the call. Not since schoolyard days had he spat out a “Yo mama” to such good effect. He smirked at Slagget and Tahereh. “You heard. Let’s get back to the lighthouse and set up.”
Slagget said, “We got the kid’s mother? Dick Blackshaw’s wife?”
Chalk grinned. “Let’s say I have a pretty damn good idea where I can lay hands on her.”
This was the best possible outcome. No more hunting for the gold. It was about to be delivered to him like a pizza. Soon he could murder some cracker-ass Blackshaws, get the gold to the dirty bomb vendors, make good, and get home. He would put up his feet with a stogie and a highball and think deep thoughts like they always did at the end of Boston Legal. It had been a long day already and it was barely half over. Something momentarily nagged at the back of his mind. Where was The Kid? No matter. He had written off that Hotspur hours ago.
Chalk dug his fingers into a shirt pocket beneath his poncho. Took out what looked like a grey piece of soggy parchment. He looked at the Lat/Long numbers he had jotted down on LuAnna’s skin in black Sharpie. Grinning, he flicked the ragged flesh over the side.
CHAPTER 41
Ellis stared at Ben as he put away The Kid’s phone. “And the Oscar for Best Lying Whitecracker in a Clusterfuck goes to—”
Ben said, “Folks are predictable when they think they’ve got the upper hand. It’s when they’re desperate you have to watch out.”
“Think that nickel-slick stuff will work? Maybe you’ve been perusing The Art of War?”
“Dear Abby. Now we don’t need to know where Chalk is. We know where he’s going. And he clearly doesn’t know we’ve already got LuAnna back, or that the lighthouse is denied, so that works.”
“Good enough. But, Ben?”
“What is it, Ellis?”
“Do we think we’ve got the upper hand now? Did we just become predictable?”
Ben’s smile was grim again. “Wouldn’t worry about that. Chalk said he’s got my mother, too.”
“That’s no good. You believe him?”
Ben didn’t answer for a moment. “He seems sure enough that she’s not on Smith Island now. And I didn’t say she was there, so that was a mistake. Dammit! As good as a confirmation. I don’t know what to think. We just found Pap mixed up in this mess. Maybe she was, too.”
Ellis said, “That’s true. Just because your pappy didn’t mention her doesn’t mean she wasn’t still in his life. He told her everything.”