Sailors and Sirens Page 13

Taking a quick look around to make sure nobody was watching, I got behind the wheel and drove out of the parking lot. I turned left on Lockwood Drive and headed out of town, following the signs toward Drayton Hall Plantation. If memory served, there was some undeveloped, swampy land not too far from there.

  As I drove, Mary began to recover, collecting herself enough to sit up and look around.

  "Wha' happen?" she asked, frowning. "Finn?"

  "Yes. You're okay. Can you fasten your seat belt?"

  She looked down and felt around for it, finally getting herself strapped in. "Where goin'?"

  "I'm looking for a private spot. I want to ask your friend a question or two."

  "My frien'?"

  "Three men kidnapped you while you were watching Theroux's office."

  "They did? When?"

  "Oh, maybe an hour ago. They drugged you somehow."

  "Oh. Who drugged me, again?"

  "They probably work for the Russian. You remember the Russian?"

  "Sniper? Right?"

  "Uh-huh. Don't worry about it right now. Just rest. It'll all come back to you."

  "You drivin' a taxi."

  "Yep. They had you in an ambulance at first, but I guess they figured this wouldn't attract as much attention."

  "Oh," she said.

  Draping her left arm over the seat back, she strained against the seatbelt, peering out the back window and then down at the man with the broken neck.

  "Somebody followin' us," she said.

  I checked the mirrors. "I don't see anybody."

  "He's in the back seat," she whispered.

  "Oh, don't mind him. He's dead. There's a live one in the trunk."

  "You stole the cab?"

  "I'm just borrowing it. I think these guys probably stole it. You rest now, okay? I need to make a phone call."

  "Okay," she said, leaning back and closing her eyes.

  I took my encrypted phone from my pocket and called Aaron.

  "What's happening, Finn?"

  "I've got Mary, plus one dead body and one live prisoner."

  "Where are you?"

  "Heading for the sticks on the southwest outskirts of Charleston, looking for a dirt road."

  "A dirt road?"

  "I want to question the prisoner. Besides, I need to give Mary time to wake up from whatever they gave her."

  "How the hell did they find her?"

  "That's one of the questions I want to ask him. My working assumption is they staked out both targets — Savannah and Charleston. Given how many times Mary was in the hands of O'Hanlon's bunch, they probably have pictures of her."

  "You said she was watching his office when they grabbed her?"

  "Yes. I was watching his house. My bet is they had surveillance on both places, but they don't know about me. At least, not enough to recognize me."

  "I guess they do now, though."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "You said there were three of them. You only accounted for two just now."

  "Oh. Yeah. The third guy's probably ditching the ambulance. He never saw me. These two pulled up to the marina in a cab, with Mary. I killed one, saved the other to answer questions. The dead one's dressed like an ambulance attendant. The one pretending to be a doctor was giving orders. He's in the trunk, awaiting my pleasure."

  "Okay. Do you need for me to do anything?"

  "Yes. You said the surveillance people in Charleston weren't tactical, right?"

  "Right. Why? You need muscle?"

  "No. I need a ride. After I'm through with my friend in the trunk, I'll leave him and his buddy out in the sticks with the cab. Can one of your watchers pick up our rental car at the B&B and come get us?"

  "Sure. Where and when?"

  "I'll let you know. Probably be about an hour. I'll call you."

  "What about ID? And the B&B? You skipping out?"

  "No. Not unless I find out from this jerk that they know about our cover. There's no reason to think they do. Mary can disguise herself before we go back to the room, and we'll figure out the next step from there. Okay?"

  "Yes. That makes sense."

  "Good, Aaron. This looks like a nice, deserted spot right here. I might as well pull off into the bushes and get to work."

  "Okay. I'll have somebody pick up your rental car now, and we'll be waiting for your call."

  "Good enough. Thanks, Aaron."

  19

  "That should do it," I said, as Mary modeled her new appearance for me.

  "Like it?" she asked, fluffing her coal-black hair and blowing me an exaggerated kiss.

  "Let's just say it's an effective disguise."

  "That bad, huh?"

  "You're a different woman, that's for sure."

  She laughed. "That's the idea. Think I look enough different from the pictures in his phone?"

  "Yes."

  "Enough different so we can go back to the B&B? This place is filthy."

  "Sure. Pack up your stuff."

  "Do we need to check out?"

  "No. I gave the clerk 50 bucks. She said we could stay as long as we wanted — 'even overnight,' she said, like that might be a big deal. We might as well get our money's worth. You sure you don't want to fool around?"

  "Shut up, Finn. I may look like I belong in a place like this now, but I'm not staying here any longer. Not even with you, sailor. Let's go."

  We were in a fleabag motel on US Highway 17, around 20 minutes southwest of Charleston. After Aaron's people brought our rental car to us out in the swamp, Mary was alert enough to deal with changing her appearance.

  We found a suburban shopping area where she bought a few clothes and cosmetics. Then we checked into this place so that she could dye her hair. With the coal-black hair and a thick application of cheap makeup, she was a different woman.

  "Yes, ma'am," I said.

  Once we were in the car headed back into town, she asked, "Where's his phone? Did you keep it?"

  "Yes. It's in that fanny pack I tossed in the back seat. Why?"

  She loosened her seatbelt enough to reach over the seat back. Retrieving the pack, she unzipped it and took out the smartphone her captor was carrying.

  "What's the code?"

  I rattled off the six-digit security code he gave me before he died. She unlocked the phone.

  "Looking for anything in particular?" I asked.

  "No. Just curious to see what's here. And I wanted to see the pictures of me."

  "You used to be pretty."

  "That's not why I want to see them, wiseass."

  "No?"

  "No. I thought maybe I could tell where they were taken. Did he say how he got them?"

  "Lavrov gave them to him."

  Uri Lavrov was the Russian, at least that was the name he used with the man I interrogated.

  "Wonder why he used the name Vasily Zaytsev with me that time?" Mary asked, as she scrolled through the pictures on the phone.

  "Maybe we'll get to ask him before this is over. It was probably just on a whim, though," I said.

  "Who was he, anyway? The guy you questioned. I remember you working on him, but I was too out of it to catch a lot of what he said."

  "Johnny Davies was his name. Grew up in the sticks in western North Carolina, joined the Marines. Did two tours in Iraq. Got out of the Marines and signed up with an outfit that did contract dirty work in Iraq. Met a guy in a bar there who recruited him to go back to the States to work for Lavrov. Lavrov was already in the U.S., and he was putting together a team of people like Davies.

  "There were six of them staying on Anastasia. Six American mercenaries, that is. Davies said the crew is Russian — eight men and four women. Plus Lavrov and his main squeeze. Davies was in charge of the mercenaries, according to him. Lavrov used them for basic muscle. He wanted Americans so they wouldn't attract attention."

  "Did you ask him about the hits? Where they broke all the victims' bones?"

  "Yes. Davies knew about it; he was there, both times. But on
e of the Russians did it. A former Spetsnaz officer. Davies said everybody was scared of him — even the other Russians. Said he was a psycho."

  "You got a lot out of Davies," Mary said.

  "Once guys like that realize they're toast, they get chatty. They know the longer they talk, the longer they get to keep breathing."

  "I don't remember hearing him scream. How did you get him to talk?"

  "He knew the score. The smart ones cave right away. They know they're about to die; why not take the easy way out? Guy like that knows what's going to happen. He's been on the other side. Once he was sure there was no escape, it was easier to answer the questions. There's no loyalty there, and no reward for suffering. That's not true with zealots, but Davies was no zealot. Just a thug."

  "There's not much in the phone besides the pictures of me. Why did you keep it?"

  "I thought we might want to use it to send the Russian a message."

  Mary chuckled. "Anything in particular?"

  "We've got time to think about that. Once we're back at the B&B, we can call Aaron and talk it over with him and Mike."

  "Lavrov must be wondering what happened to Davies and the other man," Mary said.

  "Oh, he's got a pretty good idea by now. There were two men with Davies."

  "Two? What happened to the other one?"

  "When they shot you with whatever it was, you were on the phone with me. Remember?"

  "Not really. A lot's come back, but I don't remember that." She frowned and shook her head.

  "Don't worry about it. It can take time. It doesn't matter, anyway."

  "Tell me what happened, Finn."

  "We split up. I was watching Theroux's house, and you staked out his office."

  "I remember that, and calling you when I got there. But everything's fuzzy after that."

  I filled her in on what I heard before Davies found her phone and disconnected our call.

  "So I was in an ambulance?"

  "Yes. A stolen one. Once they got you away from the area where they snatched you, they switched to the cab. Stolen, too, no doubt. The one driving the ambulance dropped you and the other two off at the cab and ditched the ambulance somewhere. I'm sure he's made his way back to Anastasia by now."

  "But he wouldn't know what's happened, right? With you?"

  "With me, probably not. Not unless somebody on Anastasia was watching for the cab to show up at the marina. And I don't think that's the case. If it were, they would have tried to follow us when I drove away in the cab."

  "Then all they know is that Davies and the other man and the cab are missing, with me as their prisoner."

  "They may know more than that," I said. "Davies was checking in with somebody on Anastasia. One of the women, he said, but her English was marginal, and he didn't speak enough Russian to help. So the third man ditched the ambulance and went back to the boat. That much is almost certain. Beyond that, Davies said he checked in with the woman when they got you in the ambulance, and again when they got you in the cab. At that point, he told her they would be back on Anastasia with you in about 15 minutes. He said she didn't seem to get all he was telling her, but she might have been recording it, to play back for Lavrov."

  "Then they would know about when the cab got to the marina," Mary said. "They would have started looking then, right?"

  "Maybe. We don't know; Davies didn't know. It depends on whether the woman understood, and how long it took for her to get through to Lavrov. See what I mean?"

  "Then they would have wondered why Davies wasn't back and tried to call him, right?" She picked up his smartphone again.

  "I already checked. No missed calls in there. Nothing after his last call, which was about 10 or 15 minutes before they got to the marina. Like I said, we don't know what they know, or when they found out things were off the rails. But they definitely know by now. And they may or may not know Davies made it to the marina. They also know that you were on the phone with somebody when they grabbed you. They won't know how much I overheard of their conversation in the ambulance."

  "Thanks, Finn."

  "You're welcome. Sorry I don't know more about it all."

  "Oh. Not for filling me in. I appreciate that, but I meant thanks for rescuing me. I feel like a real loser, letting myself get blindsided like that."

  "Don't be hard on yourself. Sometimes stuff happens that's beyond your control."

  "Yeah. We call that screwing up. If it weren't for you — "

  "If it weren't for me, you would have gotten to meet the Russian by now. I'm not sure rescuing you was smart."

  "What?!"

  "Take it easy. One thing I thought of while I was running to the marina was that they wanted something from you. They weren't out to do you any harm — not at that point. They could have killed you with a lot less trouble than it took to capture you. We already know Lavrov wanted to meet with you. Oh sure, he was heavy-handed about it, but that's just his style, right?"

  She was glaring at me. I felt like her stare was burning a dime-sized hole in the side of my head.

  "Why did you decide to save me, then, Mr. Ice-Water-in-Your-Veins?"

  "The opportunity presented itself, and I figured there wasn't really a downside. Besides, it would — "

  "Well, that's great, you asshole. Not really a downside to saving me. I'm so glad. You're… I've got a good mind to…"

  She clenched her jaws and crossed her arms, turning away from me and staring out the passenger side window.

  Let her fume, Finn. She's shaken up and feeling vulnerable, and you really pissed her off. You didn't do such a hot job of explaining your thought process, but at this stage, it's better to let her cool down. You can try again in a little while. Meanwhile, get your shit together and figure out how to explain what you were trying to get across to her.

  20

  "Sorry I didn't do a better job of explaining my thought process earlier," I said. "I was more than a little stressed out."

  Mary gave me a tired smile. We were back in our room at the B&B. She was sitting on the edge of our bed, and I was in a rocking chair, facing her.

  "I'm sorry I overreacted, Finn. I understand what you meant, now that I've calmed down."

  "I was trying to steel myself for what might happen if I didn't manage to get you away from them — to rationalize my failure, if it came to that. But there was never a moment when I wasn't committed to freeing you if I could."

  "I know. I get that. I'm glad it worked out the way it did. You okay?"

  "Me?" I asked. "Sure. I'm not the one that got doped up and kidnapped."

  "That's not what I meant, and you know it. I meant are you okay with me."

  "Yes. Thanks for understanding my clumsy words."

  "I love you, sailor."

  "And I love you, siren." I moved to the bed, sitting next to her, and put an arm around her shoulders.

  "Finn?"

  "Yes?"

  "We should call Aaron before we… Well, you know."

  "You're right. But before we do that, we should get our act together as far as what to do about Lavrov — and Theroux, for that matter."

  "Yes," Mary said. "I have some ideas."

  "Tell me."

  "Okay, but first, do you think his people spotted you this morning? Outside Theroux's house, I mean?"

  "I don't see how. I looked just like all the other tourists walking around and gawking at the sights. And Davies said they thought you always worked alone. He set it all up. He assigned one man to watch for you at the house, and one at the office. The one at the office spotted you arriving in a taxi and called Davies. Davies was waiting in the ambulance, about halfway between the two places. Once he got the call, he staged the ambulance close to the office and joined his man there. When Davies arrived, they took you down."

  "And you don't think they saw you at the marina? When you hijacked the cab?"

  "No. They would have made an effort to stop me; I was watching for that. I saw no sign of them. That was sloppy of t
hem, but I guess they were overconfident. Why?"

  "You'll see when I tell you my plan. Ready?"

  "Ready. Let's hear it."

  "Okay. Those pictures Davies had of me — they were from Martinique, shot aboard Frankie Dailey's motor yacht. I recognized stuff in the background. So Lavrov has to know what happened there. Otherwise, he wouldn't have the pictures, right?"

  "Right. You think he got them after the fact, somehow?"

  "That's the only way. He had to get them from somebody in the local government down there. Those were shot less than a minute before I mowed down the O'Hanlon bunch. They were screwing around, trying to pose with me, like the sick, S&M crap you see on the web. That's how I got my hands on the pistol I used. But anyway, my idea is to play on my reputation."

  "How?" I asked.

  "I wasted O'Hanlon and six of his boys, single-handed. That should give me a little credibility when I text Lavrov. Especially when my text comes from Johnny Davies's phone, don't you think?"

  "What are you going to say to him?"

  "Try this for a start: 'You should hire better people, Lavrov. But don't feel too bad; there aren't many who can measure up to my standards. I took out O'Hanlon and six of his best, so your second string in Charleston wasn't much of a challenge. Johnny Davies sang like a scared little bird, in case you're wondering. I see why you want to meet with me, after what he told me. But you need me more than I need you. If you really want to win me over to your side, take out Theroux for me — save me the trouble. Then maybe we can talk — but only if you upgrade your talent. I don't work with amateurs — or for them. Prove you're not a loser. Kill Theroux, and that moron in Savannah, too. It's in your best interest anyway, because if I kill them, they'll tell me all about you first. I can guarantee that. If I get to them first, I'll assume you're not interested in a partnership. And that could be the kiss of death for you, Uri.'"

  "Wow," I said. "Gutsy."

  "Yeah, well, why not? As the man I love says, 'What's the downside?'"

  "Ouch. I thought we were past that."

  "We are. Sorry, but I couldn't resist, once I got my adrenalin up."

  "Uh-huh. I like it. You've been thinking about that for a while, haven't you?"

  "Yes. I was thinking along those lines before Lavrov screwed up. Now he's played right into our hands."