“Sure.”
“Come on over here as soon as you like.”
“Can I bring the others?”
“As many as you like.”
“See you in half an hour.” Stone hung up. “How many of you want to take a ride on Ed Rawls’s boat this morning?”
Primmy’s and Carly’s hands shot up. The Bacchettis exchanged a meaningful glance, which Stone knew meant sex. They wanted the place to themselves.
“I’ll come along,” Lance said.
“Fifteen minutes, in the station wagon.”
Thirty minutes later they were clambering aboard Ed’s motorboat as the morning sun warmed them. Stone took a seat next to Ed, who was at the helm.
Ed accelerated and turned north toward open water. When he had gone a couple of hundred yards, he spun the boat around and cut the throttles to idle, taking her out of gear.
“There,” Rawls said. “Nice view of my house, huh?”
“Very nice,” Stone said. “What are we doing here?”
“Assume we’re in the house, and the twins are out here: How could they best kill us?”
Stone peered at the house, then picked up some binoculars. “Day or night?”
“Make it easy on yourself.”
“Okay, if it’s night, I can probably see us sitting at the table or up and walking around.”
“In daylight?”
“I’d need us to come outside. Easy shot, if we’re outside in daylight.”
“I can’t argue with that. You see the porch table?”
“Sure.”
“That’s three-inch thickness of Maine heart pine, well-seasoned. You tip that on its side, and you’ve got a good barrier between us and a shooter out here.”
“Granted.”
“Let’s remember that the next time we’re on the porch. We can just leave it tipped on its side. Saves time, when you’re ducking bullets.”
“I hear you.”
“Now, let’s take a look at their place,” Ed said, putting the engines in gear and pushing the throttles forward. Soon they were off the twins’ dock. “You can see why they chose that room facing the road as the master bedroom.”
“No shot from here at someone in the room,” Stone said. “A whole other thing, if you’re on the road. Or you could set up on the Jacksons’ upstairs porch, facing the road.”
“You could make life very hot in the twins’ master from that vantage point,” Rawls said.
“I like it better than shooting from the seaward side,” Stone said. “I’d feel a whole lot more comfortable on the Jacksons’ porch.”
“So would I,” Ed said. “What’s in that room off the porch?”
“Guest room, I think. Twin beds.”
“Right. If we’re going to set up a shooting gallery, I reckon that’s our spot.”
Lance came and sat next to them. “I have the distinct feeling,” he said, “that you two are up to no good.”
“You want some of this, Lance? There’s room on the Jacksons’ upstairs porch for another man with a long gun.”
“It’s been a long time since I shot someone in the head from a distance,” Lance said. “And, as I recall, there were no policemen within a hundred miles.”
“Fond memories,” Rawls said.
“And anyway, my chopper is coming for me at three this afternoon.”
“Do you think you could drop Carly off at the New Haven airport?” Stone asked. “She has a car there.”
“Of course. Anything for a citizen, especially one as pretty as Carly.” Lance smiled. “And my blessings upon your little shooting party.”
They were back at Ed’s house for lunch, where Sally had prepared a huge steak and kidney pie. They fell on it.
Carly came and sat down by Stone. “Are you trying to get rid of me? Lance says he’s giving me a lift.”
“I’m happy to have you here as long as you like,” Stone said. “I can fly you over to New Haven in the Cessna, whenever you like.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll stick around for a bit.”
“What are you and Primmy cooking up?”
“Let’s just say we can’t pull it off in New Haven.”
“You aren’t going to get yourselves killed, are you?”
“That is not part of our plan,” Carly said.
“The two of you are driving me nuts.”
“I know,” she said.
38
Shortly before dinner, Stone had a call from Sergeant Tom Young. “Yes, Tom?”
“Sorry to call with bad news, Stone,” he said.
“Let’s have it.”
“I had hoped to keep the twins on ice with a high bail, but they saw a judge this afternoon, and he released them on their own recognizance.”
“Shit,” Stone muttered.
“I hear that the judge had a call from the governor before the bail hearing,” Tom said.
“Where are they now?”
“On their way home. They’ll make the last ferry.”
“Thank you, Tom. Good night.” Stone hung up and called Ed Rawls.
“Speak to me.”
Stone broke the news.
“Well, shit!”
“Same here. Tom Young says they’ll make the last ferry tonight.”
“That’s good information,” Ed said.
“Does that give you an idea?”
“You don’t want to know. See ya.” Ed hung up.
Dino was looking questioningly at him from across the table.
“Why are you looking at me questioningly?” Stone asked.
“Lance has left us. Somebody had to.”
“I know nothing. Ed wanted it that way.”
“Hearing that is almost as good as knowing something.”
“If you say so.”
Ed checked his watch. It was nine-thirty. The last ferry arrived at eleven. Plenty of time to arrange something. He went into the living room, where Sally was knitting something unidentifiable, opened a panel in the wall, unlocked a cupboard door, and looked inside at the array of ammunition and explosives. He chose a block of C-4 plastic explosive, about four ounces, he reckoned, some radio-initiated detonators, and a small radio. That should do it, he thought. He strapped on a pistol, retrieved a light machine gun and four magazines, and dropped the lot into a canvas carryall.
“Traveling someplace?” Sally asked.
“Only a short distance. I’ll be back in less than half an hour.”
She nodded. “Go safely.”
Ed thought about taking the boat, but since nobody was at home at the twins’, there was no need for stealth, so he’d hoof it. He walked outside, looked around, and listened. Gorgeous, starry night; a loon nearby calling to its mate; cool, dry air: Maine at its glorious best. Given their latitude, some daylight lingered in the western sky, so he didn’t need his flashlight. He walked to his fence and let himself through a gap that no one else would have seen. He found himself waist-deep in blueberry bushes, and walking was slow going.
He reached the border of the twins’ property and walked across a graveled area. Paving stones were stacked on pallets in large numbers; there would be a cobblestone parking area and driveway in a few days. He looked toward the twins’ dock and saw where the teak boardwalk began. There was a large, square floating dock that would take three or four small boats, then a further boardwalk to a final floating dock that would accept a fifty-footer. The depth out there would be six feet or more at low-water spring tide.
Ed walked up the front steps. There were still lights on inside; nothing had changed since his and Stone’s earlier visit. He stopped and listened intently. Nothing, except the distant sound of rotors from a helicopter far out on the bay. He walked on upstairs and into the master bedroom.
He set the carryall on the nearest bed and used its remote control to raise the head to its steepest angle, which gave him a view of the mechanics and electrical connections of the electric bed. He took the chunk of plastique, ripped off a foot-long piece of duct tape from its roll, and taped the explosive to the rod that moved the bed. He selected a detonator from his bag and pressed it into the explosive, which had the consistency of modeling clay. Finally, he returned the bed to its fully down position and set the remote control back where he’d found it. Then he heard the helicopter rotor again, this time from much closer. It occurred to him that the twins might not have bothered with the ferry; they could have flown directly from the Augusta airport to the island. If that were so, he knew where it would land.