‘Turn around.’
Conrad stood naked, facing Rollo down the other end of the workbench. ‘It’ll be all right,’ he said to his friend, only starting to believe his words as his eyes settled on a hand ax lying within reach on the workbench.
There was movement in the shadows behind Rollo, and a man stepped into the light. It was the same man who had followed him to Sag Harbor, though somehow he had looked taller behind the wheel of the black sedan. The long-barreled handgun was leveled at the center of Conrad’s chest.
‘I’ll get straight to the point,’ said the man. ‘You’ve got something I want, and I’ve got something you want.’ He rested a hand on Rollo’s shoulder.
‘Who are you?’
‘It doesn’t matter. What matters is the document, the one you went to the lawyer about.’
‘What lawyer?’
The man placed the end of the barrel in Rollo’s ear.
‘Don’t mess with me.’
Conrad stared into Rollo’s terrified eyes. Then it came to him—one slender chance.
‘Well, I guess this is what you call a Nantucket sleigh ride,’ he said.
‘A what?’
‘Rollo knows what I mean, don’t you, Rollo?’ said Conrad, willing him to understand. There was a flicker of confusion in Rollo’s eyes, then he raised them to the whaleboat overhead.
The man cocked the hammer of the gun. ‘Say goodbye to the half-wit.’
‘Don’t. You don’t understand. I know you followed me to Sag Harbor.’
‘That’s clear now, isn’t it?’
‘I know you carried on down to the waterfront when I turned into Union Street. I know you then drove up Main Street. And I know I crossed right in front of your car.’
It was enough to unsettle the man. ‘It’s a good try,’ he said.
‘I knew you were coming here.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘Tell that to the two cops waiting outside.’
The man’s eyes narrowed almost to a squint.
‘I’m here to offer you a deal,’ said Conrad.
‘No.’ The man shook his head. ‘You’re bluffing.’
‘Deputy Chief Hollis,’ shouted Conrad, ‘I think it’s time you showed yourself.’
The man’s eyes flicked involuntarily to the barn doors.
Conrad made his move, lunging at the ax on the workbench, spinning back and burying the head in the wood of the support behind him, cutting the rope and rolling aside in the same movement.
He had expected the man to fire; he hadn’t expected him to miss. As the severed rope whipped through the block and tackle supporting the whaleboat, Rollo toppled his chair to the left.
The whaleboat crashed on to the workbench, its bow poleaxing the man. Conrad didn’t wait to assess the damage. He came out of the roll, seized a lance from among the clutter of whaling gear stacked against the wall and spun back.
Remarkably, the man was getting to his feet. His right arm hung limp and useless from its shoulder joint, but his left hand was already bringing the gun to bear on Conrad.
Conrad let fly with the lance—his stance, the action, those of their boyhood games, the endless whale rallies enacted with Rollo and Billy. He didn’t have to think, the past came willingly to his aid.
The lance caught the man in the midriff, low down and to the side, the steel point passing straight through him. Both his hands instinctively went to the wooden shaft protruding from his belly and the gun fell to the floor. He recognized his mistake almost immediately, lunging for the gun.
Conrad kicked him in the side of the head as his fingers closed around the butt.
Recovering the gun, he backed away towards Rollo, who was struggling on the ground, twisting his head vainly to see what was happening.
‘It’s me,’ said Conrad. He pulled the gag down over Rollo’s chin. ‘You okay?’
Rollo nodded. Conrad bounded over to his clothes, recovered the gutting knife and cut the ropes binding Rollo’s arms and ankles to the chair.
‘Conrad…’
‘Shhhh, it’s okay, it’s over.’ Rollo was shaking as Conrad helped him to his feet, and Conrad held him tight in case his legs buckled beneath him. They stared at the man lying skewered on the floor.
‘Here.’ He led Rollo to the workbench and leaned him against it for support. ‘I have to do this now.’
He checked the man’s heartbeat, the entry wound, the exit wound. There was bleeding, but no pulse of imminent death. The lance would have to stay put though. He dragged the man over to the upright and sat him against it. Then he ran a length of rope beneath his arms and lashed him in place.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Rollo. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry—’
‘Hey,’ said Conrad.
‘He promised, he said he wouldn’t say nothin’. But he did, he lied to me.’
It took Conrad a moment to figure that Rollo was talking about his father. Ned had extracted the information about Lillian from Rollo, then used it when he said he wouldn’t, banning Rollo from seeing Conrad.
‘He did it for you, Rollo, to protect you. And he was right. Look—’ He turned to the man.
‘He still lied to me.’
That Rollo placed his father’s betrayal above his own brush with death came as little surprise to Conrad. It was the way Rollo’s mind worked. It also offered an opportunity. Conrad tried not to think too hard about what he was about to do.
‘It’s true,’ he said, ‘he lied to you.’
‘He did.’
‘And now I need you to do the same for me, Rollo. I need you to lie for me—to your father.’
Rollo frowned.
‘It’s not for ever, just till I can work this all out.’
‘Lie?’
A cardinal sin in Rollo’s book, one for which he’d have to account to God himself.
‘It’s not even a lie,’ said Conrad. ‘I just need you to keep quiet about this for a couple of days. Can you do that for me?’
‘I…’
‘They killed my friend, Rollo. I think that man there killed her. But I need to know a bit more, I need a bit more time. Only you can give that to me.’
Rollo nodded gravely. ‘I won’t tell no one,’ he said. ‘No one.’
‘Let’s get you cleaned up.’
Conrad led Rollo towards the doors, stopping to gather up his clothes and his boots as he went.
The man came round slowly to find the fisherman seated on the floor in front of him, dressed now and smoking a cigarette. A gun rested in his lap.
It felt like someone had cleaved away the right side of his body. Then he remembered and he looked down.
‘Christ,’ he said. ‘Christ.’
‘You’ll live,’ said the fisherman.
‘There’s a fucking pole in me!’
‘It’s a killing lance—for whales.’
‘Whales!?’
‘Shut up.’
‘I need a doctor.’
‘Shut up and listen. I’m going to say this once. I’ve got some questions. If you lie to me, I’ll kill you. There are no second chances. Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘Look at me. I said look at me.’
He looked up into the two pockets of shadow cast by the overhead light.
‘I want you to know that I hope you lie to me.’
‘I won’t.’
‘When did you first meet Manfred Wallace?’
‘Never heard of him. It’s the truth, I swear it.’
‘Who are you working for?’
‘I don’t know his name. He calls me with jobs, I don’t know who he is.’
‘What were you going to do, kill me after you’d got the document?’
‘Yes.’
‘How?’
‘Make it look like a suicide.’
‘Then what?’
‘Then nothing. You’re dead, I get my money.’
‘How?’
‘How what?’
‘How do you get your money?’
‘He leaves it. In places. Hotels usually.’
‘How much did he pay you to kill Lillian Wallace?’
He was too slow. He’d hesitated just that little bit too long for it to be convincing.