“What makes you think I have the diamonds?”
“We don’t think, we know. Destiny fingered you to the boss. She told Frankie she gave them to you and now he wants us to take you out to your boat and search it.”
Willie pointed at a rubber dinghy which was sitting at the end of the far dock. “I’m not going anywhere in one of those little boats. You trying to get us killed?”
“You want to call Frankie and tell him you’re afraid to do what he wants?”
Willie hesitated, and then gave me a rough shove. “Which one is yours?”
I pointed to my dinghy, and he pushed me in that direction. “I don’t like this Bobbie. You know I can’t swim.”
Bob ignored his complaints. When we got to the dinghy Bob climbed in ahead of us, found a life jacket under the seat and threw it at his brother. “Put this on.” Taking the seat by the engine he stooped forward to examine it.
“Where’s the key?”
“You pull the rope to start it,” I said.
“Like a lawn mower?” Willie asked.
“Sort of.” I stood and watched Bob pull the cord three times. When the engine wouldn’t start, he looked up at me.
“Why won’t it start?”
“You need to pull the choke out.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place, smartass?”
I shrugged. “Maybe I should drive?”
Bob looked back at the motor, slid into the next seat back, and drew his gun. He nodded toward the rear of the boat. I sat down and he touched the pistol to my left knee. “Try anything and I’ll plug you. Understand?”
I nodded, started the engine, and reached out to untie the skiff. Bob touched the barrel of the pistol to my leg again. “Willie, you untie this thing, and get in here.”
Willie did what he was told and the skiff began to drift away from the dock. Willie panicked, put one foot onto the seat and crashed into the bottom of the boat. At the same time I put the engine into gear and started swinging it around.
Willie yelled, tried to stand, and was knocked back into the boat when I accelerated. The skiff wobbled, and for a moment I thought we were all going for a swim, but Bob reached his free hand around, steadied his brother and waved the gun in front of my face.
“Why’d you do that for?” he asked.
“If we’d sat there and waited, Willie would have tipped us.”
I knew he didn’t believe me, but since we were all settled in he let it go. Several minutes later we swung out into the less protected waters of the Gulf and I increased our speed.
Chapter 15
“Slow down before you kill us.” I had to strain to make out Willie’s words, yet there was no mistaking the terror in his outburst. He was seated in the front of the boat and was holding onto the sides of the skiff for support. The wind was blowing hard from the north, at least twenty knots, and the three-foot waves were close together and spewing buckets of cold water over the bow. Each time a wave broke over the bow of the boat he cried out and cowered in his seat. It was all I could do to hold back the laughter that was scratching at the back of my throat.
I had been pushing the boat at top speed, trying to ride the waves. With the weight of three men on board, I was finding it impossible to bring the skiff up to plane. Under normal conditions the Mercury outboard would pick up enough speed to plane the skiff along the surface of the water like a streamlined hovercraft. The extra weight forced us to slog through the waves at a crawl. Both of my passengers looked uncomfortable, which made the pounding we were taking almost enjoyable to me.
When we reached the first row of moored boats a large foaming wave crested in front of the dinghy and washed over Willie’s back, causing him to scream in terror. Bob leaned forward and tapped my leg with his pistol. “You heard my brother.” He was squinting into the wind and there was a hint of fear in his voice as he tried to speak above the roar of the engine and the pounding of the waves. “Slow down.”
My legs were frozen from the cold water and I barely felt the nudge, so I ignored his pleas. This time when he snapped the barrel of the gun against my knee it was with enough force that I couldn’t ignore it.
I leaned toward him and said through gritted teeth, “It’s not a good idea. Believe me; I know what I’m doing, and slowing down will only make things worse.”
We came out from behind the relative protection of a boat and the surge almost knocked Bob from his seat. He struggled to hang onto the skiff and his pistol at the same time. I thought about bailing and swimming to one of the nearby boats. Before I could react, he slapped the barrel hard against my kneecap and the pain was so intense I thought I might pass out. While I struggled to maintain control of the boat, he repeated, “I said, slow down.”
We were smack in the middle of the mooring field surrounded by thirty or forty sailboats and a few trawlers. I knew what would happen if I cut back on the power. There was a good chance the skiff would capsize. In this wind no one would hear our calls for help. I figured swimming to one of the boats was still an option for me. I wasn’t so sure about the two brothers. Since that was beginning to look like the only chance I was going to get to escape, I decided to act. Twisting the throttle all the way down, I grabbed the side of the skiff and held on while the next wave pushed the front of the skiff up into the air.
Willie screamed and was tossed from the boat while Bob was thrown against me. My ribcage slammed against the engine cowling and I was forced to fight for breath while the next wave engulfed us. For a brief moment it looked like Bob was going to join Willie in the water, but he was a survivor. He reached out with flailing arms and grabbed me around the neck, nearly pulling my grip loose from the sides of the dinghy. I tried to shake him off, but I couldn’t use my hands. He held on as if I was a bucking bronco and he was out to win the rodeo.
“Do something, asshole.” Bob held onto my shirt collar when the next wave rocked us, then he reached for the side of the skiff and scrambled across my body and back to his seat.
I’d known what was coming when I cut the power so I was able to maintain my grip on the throttle handle. I hit the gas and swung the nose of the skiff at a diagonal to the oncoming waves. The boat steadied and I considered trying once again to dislodge Bob, but I noticed he had somehow managed to hang onto his pistol.
The gun was pointed at my gut and the scowl on Bob’s face told me he wouldn’t hesitate to use it. “Find my brother.”
I looked around and saw nothing but the dark hulls of moored boats. I kept the skiff running in a tight circle, and I still didn’t see Willie. When I’d about decided we’d lost him, a cloud slid from the moon. In that instant glint of moonlight, I caught a glimpse of the reflective tape from Willie’s lifejacket and I pointed.
Bob turned his head, saw his brother, and slammed the gun against my leg once again. “Go get him.”
I pointed the skiff in Willie’s direction and twisted my body so that I could keep my eyes on him. “Grab the dock line and be ready to throw it to him,” I called out over my shoulder. Another cloud blackened the moon and I lost sight of Willie.
When I spotted him again I cut my speed and approached as close as I dared while yelling at Bob to toss him the line.
Willie managed to grab it and his weight tugged our bow into the waves. I turned the skiff toward a large sailboat and towed Willie until we ducked behind it. The bulk of the boat protected us from most of the waves and I was able to bring us to a near stop.
I idled the engine, and somehow I kept us behind the protective bulk of the sailboat while Bob pulled his brother into the skiff. I was tempted to gun the engine and try to knock them both back into the water, but Bob kept the pistol pointed in my direction.
When Willie was back aboard, he slouched into the bottom of the dinghy and I turned up the throttle and headed us toward my boat. This time there was no talk about slowing down, but I was aware of the threat of Bob’s pistol the entire way.