“You ever find out what he was doing in Miami the night he got killed?”
Judy pursed her lips. Her eyes squinted a little and she shook her head. “It was business, that’s all.”
“In that part of Miami? That wasn’t any part of a business district.”
“Then why would he be there?”
“How about a woman?”
She wasn’t offended by the suggestion at all. It had been put to her before. “My father was no kid,” she said. “He didn’t have women on his mind at all. If he really wanted somebody she’d be only one phone call away, if you know what I mean. Besides, the section where he was mugged was not a place where prostitutes hung out. It was a seedy, small industrial area. Garages, used auto parts places, junkyards, things like that.”
“And he was mugged.”
Judy nodded. “He was well dressed. He was a perfect target.”
“And he should have known better.”
“Yes,” she answered sadly.
“I was just thinking.”
“Thinking what?”
“Somebody else might have known better.”
Very gradually a frown began to crease Judy’s forehead. She folded her lower lip between her teeth a moment before she asked, “What are you telling me, Mako?”
“Could your father have been lured there, Judy?”
“No.” Her statement was emphatic. “He’d be too smart for that. Under unusual circumstances he’d always be well protected.”
“He carry a gun?”
“He didn’t have to. He had professional guards who did.” She let her breath out with a small hiss. “I’ve wondered about that too... his being alone, that is. It was as if... he were going to meet somebody... but he certainly wouldn’t have picked that sort of a place to conduct business.” She paused, her mind wandering back to that night. “I contacted his security offices and he had not asked for any protection at all. His business in Miami was with reputable people and conducted in an office. When it had been completed, Daddy shook hands with everyone and went down to his car.”
“He drive himself?”
“No, he always rented a small town car and driver.”
“And where did the driver take him?”
“He didn’t. He said Daddy told him he was going to walk and dismissed him right there. In fact he even signed the trip ticket so the driver wouldn’t get into trouble. He was one of the Mariel Cubans trying to make a go of it in Miami, but he couldn’t speak good English yet.”
“The cops checked all of this out, then?”
“Every detail.”
“They missed one,” Mako told her.
“What’s that?”
“Why it happened.”
“Mako... he was mugged. He just decided to walk and went in the wrong direction.”
“But he didn’t do things like that, did he?”
“I don’t know. Everybody else says it was unusual and not very smart, but Daddy did things that were unusual too.”
“But smart,” Mako added.
“Yes.”
“Was his business meeting successful?”
“Yes. The police checked that out too.” She stopped then, turned and looked up at Mako thoughtfully. “What are you getting to?” she demanded.
Again he shook his head. “It’s like not getting the punch line on a joke. It’s not supposed to happen that way.”
“The Miami police suggested that too. Then they found out that Daddy was a walker. He frequently took long strolls wherever he was.”
“With somebody?”
“Yes. He always... or nearly always, had a companion or two. But there were enough times that he walked alone to satisfy the investigators.”
“In places like where he was mugged?”
Judy didn’t answer. The logic was all scrambled. It was evident that the same thoughts had run through her mind too. Now her father was dead, nothing could bring him back, his death hadn’t caused her any loss except an emotional one and nothing had erupted in business to make his demise seem suspicious at all.
“Can I ask you something?” Judy suddenly said.
“Sure. Shoot.”
“When we were underwater... that thing that came at us... was that the eater?”
Mako let a few long moments go by before he said solemnly, “Not the one we’re looking for.”
Anthony Pell was in an exuberant mood this night. Having twice photographed evidence of the surreal thing that was wreaking such havoc among the boats, then having an agent of the federal government report an encounter by something huge and unidentifiable, backed up by other witnesses, was making this side trip of Lotusland Productions an economically satisfying one. Bids from the networks had been coming in steadily and the home office was preparing for a gigantic motion picture effort. What they needed was an ending. It had to be so sensational that nothing would ever touch it. The photography had to be exceptional and no expense was to be spared to get the desired result.
The home office had already assigned writers to prepare the script and plot out an ending. It was evident that they thought the whole affair was all wind and no substance, but that’s what made people buy tickets and no matter what, the studio would give it all the substance it needed. How many books had been written about the Bermuda Triangle and how many movies made and how many incidents distorted to make it all look real?
And look what Jaws did for the great white shark.
Smelling big money was what Anthony Pell did best, and he smelled it now. His was only a small percentage of the whole, but it was worth millions and Anthony Pell knew his cut was sufficient for him. He could buy anything he wanted, go where he desired and do what he pleased. As long as he did not get greedy and did his job to his bosses’ satisfaction. For a moment he thought of Tony Pallatzo and grimaced. He didn’t like himself very well then.
A jigsaw puzzle is a box full of unrelated pieces, but if you can separate out the parts that make four ninety-degree angles, you have the corners and everything else fits inside them. They were the easiest parts. The real work is sorting out the bits and pieces that make up the body of the picture. Mako could mentally visualize the corners, now he had to start arranging all the loose parts into reasonable order.
And he didn’t like that word, “reasonable.”
Anthony Pell was beyond reason. He was a piece from another puzzle, another time. He was out of place in this one, but why and how, Mako couldn’t quite fathom. But it would come. It would need some prodding and some urging, but it would come.
Mako gave a single sharp rap on the door to the stateroom and heard footsteps, and there was the new face of an old streetwise punk he had known a long time; he decided to play along in the game, and he gave Judy’s hand a soft squeeze under his arm.
Hooker shook Anthony Pell’s hand and felt the hardness in his grip. The clasp was stronger than it had to be for an ordinary greeting. It was like a warning, Hooker thought, that Anthony Pell was a very determined man, a hard man, one who let nothing get in his way. You knew it in the strength of his hand, even though his smile was affable and his eyes laughing.
Hooker played the same game too. Nothing gave in his fingers and he was smiling too. For the briefest of a second, Pell looked surprised, then reconsidered any ideas he might have had that they were simply two physically fit men meeting again.
“You certainly have brought good fortune to this trip, Mr. Hooker. The film we have... with reenactments and additional coverage, is going to make a great movie.”
“You missed the big show on the island,” Hooker told him.
“Oh, not at all. We had somebody covering the boat that caught the eater in its nets... all that activity looking at the tooth mark. Hell, you are even in some of the film, Mr. Hooker.”