My attention turned once again to Namesake as my skiff lunged ahead into the waves.
Ivan Bauerstock hadn't noticed that Parrish was missing. More likely, he'd noticed but just didn't care. He'd probably figured the man had fallen overboard. They would have to kill him one day anyway, and what could be easier to explain than an actual accident at sea?
I could see Bauerstock still sitting at the helm seat as I swept in for a second pass. He wasn't looking in my direction. Didn't yet know I was in pursuit, judging by the way he behaved.
I'd stopped just long enough to take all three Mason jars from the cooler and wedge them between my ankles. I'd dealt with enough explosives to be reasonably confident at least one of the jars would detonate if it impacted hard enough against the hull of Namesake. I'd also dealt with explosives enough to know not to ever, ever trust them. Particularly concoctions made with anything less than laboratory-grade chemicals.
This time, I approached from the mainland, coming fast out of the darkness as if to ram them on the starboard side. At the last instant, I throttled back, turning hard toward Namesake's stern. I waited a moment to get my balance, then I threw the Mason jars one after another, holding them like footballs, giving them all the velocity I could.
There was so much adrenaline in me that the first jar spi-raled over the bow; missed everything. The second hit the cabin trunk just aft the side windshield, but didn't detonate. The third jar hit the cabin right outside where Bauerstock was sitting and it did detonate, but with such an impotent little whoof that I was surprised Bauerstock heard it.
He did, though. I saw him jump. He also saw the blue alcohol and ammonia flames riding soap bubbles harmlessly along the side deck; harmless because the fire burned at a temperature much too low to ignite wet fiberglass.
Bauerstock didn't know that, though, and I watched as he slowed the big Hinckley to a crawl and came out onto the deck carrying two fire extinguishers.
I didn't hesitate. I already had my anchor ready, cleated to a few yards of line-the most primitive of boarding hooks. Now I swung in behind the yacht; put my bow against his stern as if attempting to push him out of the way. Touched a toggle switch, turning on my navigational lights, then tossed my anchor over his transom. Removed the ignition cord from my belt and left my engine idling as I crabbed forward onto my skiff's casting deck, fighting for balance. I timed a lifting wave and swung over onto Namesake, then stood to see a very surprised Ivan Bauerstock staring at me. I heard his frightened voice say, "My God, it's… it's you. I thought Parrish killed you!"
I stood there using the gunwale for balance before I answered. I said, "That'll be the day." Then I began to move toward him. There was so much wind and wash of heavy seas that I had to yell to be heard. "Where are they? Where's Nora?"
Bauerstock was backing away. "Listen to me, Ford. You can't blame me for my son's behavior. I have nothing to do with his private life."
"Where are they? Where's Nora!"
"Teddy's going to be a very important man. If you can overlook the last few weeks, we can help you tremendously down the road. Whatever you want!"
Bauerstock had backed into the white helm seat. He was still holding one of the spent fire extinguishers. When I reached for him, he swung the metal canister hard at my head. I caught his arm, locked my fingers under his chin until the fire extinguisher clanked upon the deck. Then I pulled his face close to mine. In a voice hoarse with anger, I whispered, "I don't blame you, Ivan. I just don't like you."
He tried to fight as I swung around behind him, and began to push him toward the water. He was yelling, "I can pay you, I can pay you! Don't do this to me, phase."
I got my right hand on his belt, my left hand in his hair, then I ran him toward the transom. He gave a terrible soprano yelp as I lifted him airborne and vaulted him overboard.
Ivan Bauerstock was still screaming at me as we idled away, his words indistinguishable in the wind.
The door through the aft bulkhead was locked from the inside.
Someone was down there, hiding in the cabin.
I lifted myself between the companionway entrance and used both feet to kick the door open. It took awhile. The boat was solidly built. Finally, the door shattered, brass hardware flying.
There would be no surprising Ted now. He'd be waiting.
I squatted and looked down the steps into a beautifully appointed cabin. I got a whiff of something as I did: a metallic, human odor that I couldn't identify. The room was dimly lighted; had a candle softness. Music was playing through the built-in sound system. Willie Nelson. The place might have been set for a romantic dinner but for the storm outside.
I looked beyond the dinette table and stainless steel galley to the cushioned V-berth, and felt a sickening panic at what I saw there. A human figure lay motionless beneath a sheet. A pillowcase covered the head, as if draped for execution.
There was a black swash of blood on the sheet. More blood on the pillowcase; heavy in the area where the face would have been.
Where the hell was Ted?
Because there was no other option, I swung down into the cabin. The moment my feet hit the deck, the door to the toilet came flying open. I didn't react in time and felt a tremendous impact as someone clubbed me behind the neck. He clubbed me again, grunting with effort, and I went down on one knee. I got my elbow up and blocked the next blow, saw a pair of bare feet braced on the deck. I reached, yanked and rolled hard. Felt his body weight collapse on top of me. I wres-tied myself into control, pulling my fist back to flatten the nose of Ted Bauerstock… but instead I was looking into the tear-streaked face of Nora Chung.
I froze, my fist poised a few inches from her chin, as she whispered, "Doc? Doc! Oh, thank God! Thank God it's you!"
I got to my feet and pulled her up. She was wearing only a white bra and panties, blood on both. She'd used a fish billy to club me, and now I retrieved that, too. She was shaking, seemed on the verge of hysteria. I sat her in the settee booth and kissed her forehead, then cheek, trying to calm her.
"Where's Ted?"
She made a gesture that asked for a little time to get herself under control. It appeared as if she might faint. "This can't be real. Doc, are you sure this is real? Is this really happening? I can't tell the difference anymore."
She was probably still suffering the effects of scopolamine. "Did he give you something? Did he make you drink something or give you a shot?"
Nora's expression became savage and she looked at the motionless figure beneath the sheet. "Him? You mean that son-of-a-bitching animal? He gave me a shot, yeah. He gave Delia one, too, before he strangled her. Know what he did? He ate one of her eyes. I saw him. He made me watch. Like it was a grape. Then he raped me. And he kept on raping me. I had no choice, Doc. You have to tell the police. Lot of times they don't believe women, but I had to do it. I had to make sure he could never hurt me again."
I patted her back for a moment, then went to the V-berth and pulled the pillowcase away. Ted Bauerstock lay there blinking up at me, recognizing me, his pupils gigantic. He still hadn't moved and I had to lean to hear his weak voice as he gasped, "I'm paralyzed. The bitch stuck a needle in my neck. You've got to get me to a hospital."
I looked at Nora. She sat there tapping her fingers together, very nervous. Her speech became accelerated. "He thought I was unconscious. I grabbed the needle when he turned his back. After that… after that…" She began to cry. "… I'm not sure what happened after that."
I pulled the sheet down, looking at what she'd done to him, then covered him as Bauerstock whispered, "She's going to jail for this. I'll make sure of it. She'll never have a free day."