“That’s a mighty fine idea, lady, once a regiment arrives. But for now, my brother’s guarding the boats.” He paused, then said, “And if you’re thinking of giving me a hard time, I’m ready, too.”
At which point he reached his hand under the counter. When it came back up, it was holding a gun. Kyle didn’t know a lot about firearms, but it looked to him like a Glock.
The couple took a nervous step back. “What about flying out?” he asked. “Can we charter a plane?”
The man behind the counter shook his head. “I wouldn’t waste my time heading to the island airport. What I’m hearing is, bunch of those cars have blocked the runway, couple of them deliberately ran into one of the planes as it was trying to touch down. Thing went up in flames. If anyone’s coming to give these cars what’s comin’ to them, they’re gonna have to come by boat.”
“Is someone coming by boat?” the man asked.
“Just got off the phone with someone in Boston who knows someone in the coast guard who knows someone in the military. They’re pulling something together, but that’ll take time, and then they gotta load up a ferry and get over here. If I were betting, you’re looking at three, four hours, at least, before the cavalry arrives.”
The man’s wife said, “What about the local police? What are they doing?”
The man behind the counter chuckled. “That’s a good one.”
Kyle had heard enough. He continued on into the dining room. Derek was at the far end, sitting at a table by the window, holding what appeared to be a white linen napkin to his head. Kyle rushed over, pulled out a chair, and sat down opposite him.
“What in the hell happened?”
Derek pulled the cloth napkin away, and it clinked as he did so. The napkin was full of ice cubes, and Derek had been applying it to the now visible bump on his upper forehead. The black and blue wound was the size of a poker chip.
“Jesus,” Kyle said.
Derek nodded in agreement, then put the ice back to his head.
“Where’s the boat?” Kyle asked.
“Gone,” Derek said.
“What do you mean, gone?” Kyle leaned in and whispered, so as not to be overheard by the people still arguing at the counter. “What happened to the fucking boat?”
Derek sighed. “When I was coming into the harbor, it was nuts. People scrambling all over the place, looking for a way out. As I was tying up, these two guys — had a couple women with them, the whole lot of them looked like would-be bikers or something — ask me to take them out. Out where, I ask them, and they say anywhere. Just get us out of here. I say to them, I can’t do that, I’m picking up someone. Maybe, if they want to wait around, once this someone — that’d be you — comes, then we’ll see if we can work something out. That was when I got hit with the priest.”
Kyle blinked. “One of them was a priest?”
Derek shook his head. “No, no. A fishing priest, or a fish bat. One of those things you use to bonk a fish on the head to kill him. The one guy had one of those and whomps me right here.”
He took the napkin away from his head for a second and pointed with his other hand. “So then the two of them haul me out of the boat, dump me on the dock, and take off with the boat.” He shook his head again, then winced. “Shouldn’t do that. Hurts.”
Kyle felt rage building up within him. You had one job, he wanted to say.
“You look upset,” Derek said.
Kyle struggled to keep his voice even. “I have to get off this island.”
Derek looked at him blankly.
“You hear me? You have to find us another boat. There’s got to be other places, other harbors. If people are stealing boats to get off here, then stealing a boat is what you’re going to have to do.”
Derek poked his tongue around the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know about that.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know about that?”
He took the ice off his head, planted both hands on the table, stretched out his arms, and leaned back, surveying his boss. “How long have I worked for you, Mr. Kyle?”
Kyle starting to feel disoriented. “Why are you—”
“Just tell me.”
Kyle tried to think. “Eight, nine years, I guess.”
“I’m one of the last to hang in. Everyone else, gone, fired, resigned, whatever. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” Kyle said.
“I guess I only got myself to blame.”
“What’s on your mind, Derek? Christ’s sake, spit it out.”
“I’ve seen the kind of man you are, your self-centeredness, your — what’s that fancy word — narcissism? How everything’s always about you, like you’re the center of the whole damn universe? How you always got to get even? How vindictive you are?”
Kyle stayed silent.
“So I shouldn’t be surprised. And yet, I am.” Derek paused, looked toward the bar. There was no one behind it. “What’s a guy got to do to get a drink around here?”
“Get to the point,” Kyle said.
“Like I said, I shouldn’t be surprised. And yet, I never thought you’d go this far. I knew you were coming over here to mess things up for Lisa Carver. I get that. I could even understand that. And I knew you weren’t going to settle for just sticking a potato in the tailpipe of one of her little cars.”
“There is no tailpipe in an electric car,” Kyle said.
“I’m trying to make a point here. I knew you had to have something bigger up your sleeve than that. Something more outlandish. I know you’ve still got plenty of people who are masters of the dark arts when it comes to computers, that you could cook up one hell of a virus on your own if you had to. You learned from the best, like that lady you had working for you who went to work for the competition and ended up dead in her bathroom. So, I thought, maybe none of them Arrivals will start, or they’ll short-circuit, the batteries will catch on fire. Turn on the satellite radio and the dashboard melts. Something clever.”
Derek paused again, fixing his eyes on Kyle.
“But I couldn’t have imagined anything like this.” He pointed out the window, at the people getting onto boats and heading out of the harbor. “I’ve been hearing what’s going on, seen some of it with my own eyes.” His voice went low. “People are dead, Mr. Kyle. Lots and lots of people are dead. Did you know? Did you know this was what would happen? That it would be this bad?”
Kyle’s mouth suddenly felt very dry. He moved his tongue around, trying to make some spit. He glanced over at the bar. “You’re right, we could definitely use a drink.”
“I heard Lisa Carver herself is dead. Some firemen, too. People gettin’ run down in the middle of the street.” He sighed. “You’re a murderer, Mr. Kyle. You’re a killer. You’re no better than one of them crazed people goes into a school or a movie theater and opens fire on people. Sure, you don’t have a gun. You don’t have to look these people in the eye and shoot them. You’re not having to kill them with your bare hands. But you’re killin’ them, there’s no doubt about that.”
Kyle decided not to tell him about the man on the ferry, that he had killed someone with his bare hands.
They were jolted by the sound of an explosion. Looking out the window together, beyond a row of seaside houses, a ball of flame went up into the air.
“A gas station, I bet,” Derek said. “One of those little bastards probably ran into some pumps. Or maybe not. Not much reason for a gas station to even be open, unless it’s someone coming along to fill up a can for their mower.” He managed a chuckle. “Lawn care’s probably not high on anyone’s list of priorities today.”
Kyle’s fingers twitched. “You call me a killer, but Carver had blood on her hands, too.”
Derek’s left eyebrow went up.