“Know what?”
“The head guy is the one you’ve been having all those meetings with at the No Name. You spent the morning with him at your brother’s vacation place. I saw him go in. I was parked up the street.”
“Jerry?”
Agent Wilson nodded. “The bartender.”
“But if he’s the top guy, what’s he doing bartending?”
“That how he stays off-radar. It’s a historic stratagem. Since ancient times, generals have been known to dress as common foot soldiers to avoid assassination…. It’s also a great way to gather intelligence. If you want to know what’s going on in these parts, there’s no better place than behind the counter of the No Name.”
Anna felt faint. Flashbacks streamed through her head. Jerry talking about how Scarface liked to move anonymously through his own organization, pretending to be other people, really talking about himself.
“Then who was Fernandez?”
“His first lieutenant. He was hiding money with your brother. Jerry wanted it. That’s why he let Fernandez continue living, even though he was on the indictment with the others.”
“I’m so stupid!” said Anna.
“Unfortunately, Jerry knew your name was also on that bank box. Then you phoned from the turnpike… we had his phone tapped, and just like that” — he snapped his fingers — “Fernandez’s death warrant was signed.”
“But why involve me? Why didn’t he just shoot Fernandez himself?”
“Leverage. He needed you to go to the bank. He’s going to kill you right after you give him the contents.”
Anna’s world started to swirl. Wilson ran down to the water and grabbed her by the arm. “We have to go!”
They ran for the agent’s sedan.
Anna felt his hand come off her arm. She looked back.
Wilson was down, a fatal head wound.
Jerry stepped out of the woods with pistol and silencer.
Anna took off for the water. Jerry tackled her in the muck and began punching her in the face. Birds took flight. Nobody to hear her screams.
“Why!” Struggling under his weight.
He hit her again and began going through her pockets. He found the Polaroid. He started laughing. “I don’t believe it. Right in front of us the whole time!”
He slugged Anna again, then pulled a pint of cheap vodka from his pants. He took the first swig before jamming the bottle into Anna’s mouth. Jerry was just too strong and heavy. Her gums bled from struggling against the glass lip of the bottle. A lot of the booze was going down her cheeks, but enough was getting in. When the bottle was empty, he whipped it aside into the bushes.
“On your feet!”
Anna stayed curled on the ground. Jerry stuck his gun in his pants and grabbed her around the waist. He took a few big steps and threw her out into the water. Anna stood back up, coughing and clearing hair from her eyes.
Jerry pulled the gun again and sloshed out into the shallows. He shoved Anna. “Move!”
She stumbled forward. He shoved her again. It went like that until she was a hundred yards from shore. But being the flats, the water was still only to her knees.
“That’s far enough!”
THE SHERIFF’S CRUISER flew down U.S. 1. The dispatcher came on the radio. She had a ’71 Buick Riviera registered to an address on Ramrod Key.
Gus grabbed a cell phone and dialed. “It’s ringing.”
Walter glanced down at the seat between them and the latest fax, the one that had finally put a mug shot with the unsolved murders down the west coast. “She looks so harmless.”
“Pick up the phone!”
“I can’t remember the last time we had a female serial killer.”
“Aileen Wuornos.”
“That’s right,” said Walter. “They got some kind of memorial garden to her at a bar in Daytona.”
“It’s still ringing.”
“Two islands to go.”
“Answer the phone!”
SERGE AND COLEMAN climbed back in the Buick for a chow run.
“I’m telling you, Coleman, I think somebody’s trying to kill me.”
“You’re crazy.”
“What about the cut brakes?” Serge stuck the key in the ignition. “And I could swear I’m being followed.”
“Hold it,” said Coleman.
Serge took his hand off the key. “What is it?”
“I think I hear the phone ringing.”
“I don’t hear anything.” Serge grabbed the key again.
“No, I’m sure it’s the phone.”
“Probably your landlord,” said Serge. “Let’s get going.”
Serge began turning the key. Coleman grabbed his hand. “But what if it’s weed? I have an order in. I’ll bet that’s what it is. It’s hard to get hold of the weed guys. You usually only get their beeper or voice mail. You have to take the weed calls when you can. Otherwise the order goes to someone else, and you have to start all over calling their beeper and waiting. That’s why you can never miss a weed call. I’ll bet it’s the weed guy….”
Serge was banging his forehead on the steering wheel.
Coleman opened the passenger door. “I’ll be right back.”
ANNA’S EYES STAYED locked on the gun in Jerry’s hand. A hundred yards from shore, alone in the open, expecting a bullet any second. The alcohol started doing its thing, and she stumbled sideways and fell again. She pushed herself back up. This was the moment. Her head told her to make a break for it. She’d probably still get shot, but she wasn’t going without a fight. Readyyyyy…
Just as she was about to spring, Jerry started walking backward toward shore, still aiming the gun.
“Now stay there!”
A SHERIFF’S CRUISER leaped the bridge to Ramrod Key. It skidded around the corner at the Chevron station and sped up the block.
“I think I see the place,” said Walter. “There’s the Buick.”
“Oh, no. Someone’s already in the driver’s seat!”
COLEMAN TROTTED OUT of the trailer and jumped back in the car. “Okay, let’s go.”
“Who was it?”
“They hung up.”
“You moron.” Serge grabbed the ignition key.
A loud whoop from a police siren. Serge glanced in the rearview as a sheriff’s cruiser screeched to a stop, blocking the driveway. Deputies jumped out.
“Take your hand off the key! Get out of the car! Now!”
Serge momentarily thought about the gun in the glove compartment, then sighed. “I guess the jig is up.”
“…Out of the car! Out of the car!…”
They opened the doors.
“Step away from the vehicle!”
They stepped away. Serge laughed offhandedly. “I’ll bet you want to talk about all those murders.”
Gus looked at Walter, then Serge. “You know?”
“What are you, a comedian? If anyone knows, don’t you think I would?”
Gus had a confused expression. “You’re taking this awfully well.”
“I try to keep an even disposition,” said Serge. “Do you really think we’re talking the death penalty?”
“Afraid so.”
“What if there’s cooperation?”
“Could help,” said Walter. “But we can’t promise anything.”
“Sure would appreciate it.”
“You don’t mean you actually still have feelings for her.”
“Who?”
“Your wife. Some guys would get pretty sore if they found out their spouse was trying to kill them.”
“She was?”
“That’s what we’re here about,” said Gus. “We came to warn you your car might be rigged.”
“She’s a serial killer,” said Walter.
“Just got the mug shot this afternoon,” said Gus. “Murdered her last four husbands or boyfriends. All after extremely quick courtships.”
“Oh, those murders,” said Serge.
“Yeah. Why? What murders did you think we were talking about?”
“Uh… the same ones.” Serge smiled to himself: So that’s why I got the soul-mate vibe.
JERRY KEPT WALKING backward through the water until he reached the mangroves. His hand found the side of a flat-bottomed aluminum hull.