Diane took a half step forward, aligning herself with the pistol rack, being very careful not to let her eyes telegraph her intention.
She’d have to make a quarter turn, grab the pistol and dart off the rack, turn back, load and aim.
She saw Bellfort glance at the wall that held the dart gun, then back at her. He may have been crazed, but he wasn’t stupid. He launched his attack.
In one smooth motion, Diane swiveled, snatched the gun and dart, turned back, loaded and lined up the weapon on Bellfort’s crotch. He stopped dead two body lengths away from her.
She saw the terror in his eyes just before he dove behind a metal desk to her right. He screamed in pain when he hit the floor.
She hadn’t even fired the dart.
Bellfort slithered, scrambled and squeezed through knee holes and under tables, grunting his way through the maze. Then Diane heard a chair crash to the floor and realized he’d made it half way across the room.
She was free.
She could run through Maggie, set off the alarm then head down the backstairs and outside. Even if that monster chased after her, the pistol would keep him at bay.
She took a few steps toward Maggie, then stopped and looked at the dart gun in her hand. Something primitive switched on in her brain.
She stepped out of her shoes and turned into the room.
She crept through the desk rows, thinking about the night the chimps were set loose. Raymond Bellfort had wailed like a baby when Wilbur’s dart stuck him in the thigh. He had screamed for them to remove it, forgetting about the marauding chimps—the greater threat, by far.
She stopped a moment, readjusted the dart in the gun, then headed to the far end of the room.
David Crowley pulled the red jeep into his parking space at BRI. He stepped out, closed the door and almost had a heart attack; a figure was running towards him from the woods. He reached inside his jacket; then he recognized the corkscrew hair.
David eyed the man suspiciously. “Crissake, Michael, you about scared me to death. Slipping up on a person like that in Texas, you could get yourself shot. What’re you doing here? How’d you get in?”
“I came over the wall. My car’s out beside the road. Gabriel sent me to watch over Diane. I’ve been hangin’ around the neighborhood since yesterday.”
Michael pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered David one. He declined. Michael lit up, and they started toward the building.
While they walked, Michael told David about Gabriel’s encounter with Diane at the airport in Santa Marta. From their conversation, Gabriel had deduced that Raymond Bellfort killed Vincent Rose.
“That’s not the way I heard it,” David said.
“I swear Gabriel Carrera had nothing to do with Vincent Rose’s death. I was in New York with Gabriel that whole week.”
David didn’t respond.
“Listen, we have to join forces to keep an eye on Diane. Gabriel’s afraid she might be in jeopardy when Bellfort comes back. Gabriel said Diane would never accept my protection though. So I’ve had to skulk about.”
David wasn’t sure if he should believe Michael’s story. If he convinced Diane she should accept the bodyguard’s protection, it could be akin to letting the fox into the hen house.
The two men walked around to the bay side of the building while Michael finished his cigarette. He was stomping the butt on the ground when he looked out at the harbor. “Where did that come from?”
David looked where Michael was pointing. “What do you see?”
On the other side of the Enterprise—that smaller boat; it wasn’t there a bit ago”
David squinted and peered across the harbor. “Shit! That’s Bellfort’s runabout.”
Both men turned and ran for the building.
Diane rounded the corner of the counter and found Bellfort. He was on all fours, heading toward the electronics room door. It gladdened her heart to see him crawl.
She aimed the dart gun at him and waited.
He arrived at the door, reached up for the knob, then stopped and leaned his forehead against the wood. He knew she was there.
He tilted his head and looked up at her through the corner of his eye. “Don’t. Please don’t,” he said. There was panic in his voice. Hyperventilating, he rolled himself to a half-sitting position and held up one palm in a defensive posture. “I beg you, don’t.”
When Diane responded, her voice was filled with loathing. “Scared of a little dart, are we? I bet you’re afraid of shots too. Did you cry at military school when the nurse gave you your inoculations? I bet the other boys laughed at you, especially that boy with the rabbit. Did he call you a chicken? That’s what you are, aren’t you?—A big, fat chicken. A coward. And a thief and a murderer too—”
At that moment, David and Michael charged through the main door into the bench room. Diane’s head jerked toward the commotion.
In that split second, Raymond Bellfort made his move. His flight was fueled by terror. When Diane turned back, he was on his way to the exit. She tore after him.
Just as he made the turn to run through Maggie’s frame, Bellfort looked over his shoulder and smirked. Diane aimed the dart at his neck and fired. He ducked. The dart hit the wall and fell to the floor.
“Dammit!” Diane shouted and tossed the gun onto a desk.
Bellfort ran into the frame unimpeded. But he didn’t exit the door on the other side.
Maggie’s voice blared out, “Good bye Raymond Bellfort, Good bye Raymond Bellfort…”
When Diane reached Maggie, Bellfort was on the floor inside the frame. He made a gurgling sound and twitched, then he went still.
David and Michael arrived beside her. Maggie continued shouting her goodbyes to Raymond Bellfort. David stepped over and pressed “off” on the control screen.
Everything went silent except for Huck’s frenzied barking in the distance. David kicked off his shoes, and entered Maggie’s frame. He bent down and felt for Bellfort’s carotid pulse. Then he looked up at Diane. “He’s dead. Maggie must have grabbed his shoes. He hit his head.”
David made no effort at resuscitation.
Diane needed to be alone for awhile. She told the men she had to calm her frantic dog.
Her mind reeling, she found her shoes, then headed toward the main door muttering under her breath, “Checkmate, you bastard.”
μ CHAPTER FORTY FIVE μ
The island’s northern headland, where years before, Gabriel and his younger brother had lost scores of soccer balls into the sea, was the chosen field of honor.
Gale-sculpted boulders and twisted divi divi trees stood as witnesses. Clamorous trade winds served as the trumpet’s blare and the beat of the drum.
Carlos and Gabriel shouted off twenty paces, stopped, turned and raised their pistols. One of the men aimed wide, fired, then lowered his arm and remained in place.
The other understood. He closed his eyes momentarily to gather his resolve. Then he aimed carefully. And fired.
μ CHAPTER FORTY SIX μ
It was the third wet morning in a row, but the rain had finally diminished to a drizzle. Diane met Sara at a popular tourist spot on the edge of Galveston Bay. The merry-go-round was silent and the Ferris wheel and red and blue shuttle trains stood still. There was something melancholy about an amusement park in the rain.
The women stepped out of their cars and shook hands, then they hugged. Their destination was a cozy coffee shop at the other end of the boardwalk. But first Sara wanted to walk and talk.
Diane didn’t bother pulling up the hood on her slicker; she found the drizzle somehow cleansing.
“Are you okay?” Sara asked.
“I’m fine,” Diane lied.