Barbara Silkstone - Wendy Darlin 01 - Wendy and the Lost Boys (6 page)

Hook walked out to meet us with Dale at his side. “Who the hell is this?” He pointed to Roger.

“He’s my personal physician here to save Marni. Dr. Roger Jolley.”

“I didn’t give you my permission to bring anyone else.”

“You can sue me once we get her to a hospital.”

“Bitch. Dale will take your cell phones.”

Dale sneered and held his hand out. A tattoo of a fanged snake curled around his wrist and ended at his fingers.

“I’m not parting with my phone. Screw you,” I said.

“Marni’s in an oxygen tent. We can’t run the risk of a spark. You’ll get them back when you leave.”

I looked at Kit and Roger. They shrugged. We handed over our cells.

Dale grabbed all three phones. He made a show of walking to the railing and pitching them into the ocean, then turning to Hook for approval.

“Oh shit.” Kit said. He ran to the railing and grabbed for his phone. Dale backhanded him. Kit came at the quartermaster knocking him against the railing and giving him a knee in the groin. Dale doubled over.

“Enough!” Hook snapped.

Dale straightened up with a look to kill on his face. He put his hand on the butt of his gun.

Hook shook his head and Dale backed off.

Kit stepped between the pissed-off quartermaster and me.

I shuddered. It was too late to protest, our phones were gone. Roger shot me a look that said “let it go.” Marni was my instant concern. Deal with Hook and his twerp later.

We followed our host down a spiral staircase to a corridor leading to the last stateroom in the stern. A huge platform bed sat in the center of the room. A tiny creature lay in a gauzy tent.

Marni’s dog, Tinkerbelle, scampered across the floor to me. She jumped at my legs as I stepped over her and ran to the bed.

Roger was one step behind me. “That’s not an oxygen tent…there’s no supply,” he said. “Don’t touch anything.” He grabbed my hand as I was about to pull the tent from her face.

Marni’s body was withered, her beautiful raven hair had fallen out, her eyebrows were gone, and her eyes were dead orbs.

Hook stood in the doorway looking like the worthless lump of shit he was.

“Take her to a hospital,” I screamed at him.

“And get nabbed? Hell, no. I’m not going to some prison where you have to protect your ass and piss on your own feet.” He left the room.

Marni moved her hand on the bed, motioning me to come closer. Roger pulled me back. “Here put this mask on and don’t touch her,” he whispered. A box of disposable face masks rested on the dresser. “This isn’t any tropical disease. I think it’s radiation poisoning, probably polonium.”

I squinted my eyes trying to focus on him. Who was he to tell me this? What the hell was polonium? Stepping back to the doorway, I felt light-headed and dropped to the floor. Roger and Kit sat down beside me.

Roger held my hands as he spoke softly. “The Russian spy murdered a few years ago… that’s the stuff they used. It only takes a small amount. She has all the symptoms. There’s nothing that can be done for her. Hook’s right. It’s too late.”

Kit helped me to my feet. I staggered to Marni’s bedside. Slipping the mask over my face, I leaned close to the tent. Marni struggled for each word. “Please be there for Hook. Promise me. Take care of him.”

And so I promised.
The mother of all promises.

Tinkerbelle whimpered to be lifted. Pushing on the tent, the puppy tried to lick Marni’s face as if willing her to live. I pulled Tink back before she ripped the tent. The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming. I thought of Marni’s mother, before she got breast cancer, bringing her little girl into the office. Marni dragging her glittery-gold princess Barbie.

Two days later, her last day, I donned protective surgical gloves, picked up the edge of the tent and pressed a wet cloth to her parched lips. Marni whispered, “Remember, you promised.”

I swore again to care for Hook. I wondered about the statute of limitations on promises made to dying daughters of friends. Marni slowly drifted from this life on a morphine cloud. It was as if her body had turned to dust even while her heart kept beating.

“I can hear the dolphin crying,” she said, and then she said no more.

***

We buried her at sea. It was a stormy day when the crewmen slipped her withered body, wrapped in a white sheet, into the vast black, roiling ocean as we stood at her side. I recited
Psalm 23
from memory. When I got to
I will fear no evil
, I lost control and couldn’t continue.

Hook never shed a tear. Where was his heart that he could stroll through life feeling nothing?

Jaxbee and I walked around like zombies.

The splash of Marni’s corpse entering the water would haunt me forever. More angry than sad, I dreaded the day I’d have to talk to her mother. I wasn’t close to Marni, and her conning herself into love to get into Hook’s wealth had really put me off, but she didn’t deserve this.

That sonofabitch Hook let her die to save his own skin. I had to find out who killed her – for Marni, her mother, and me.

Chapter Ten

The Wall Street pirate spent the rest of Marni’s funeral day on the bridge with Jaxbee and Dale. It was a perfect time for me to snoop in his suite. I took tweezers and a kitchen knife. Not knowing how to jimmy a bolt, I planned to use the learn-as-you-go method. As it turned out, the door to his suite wasn’t locked. I guess Hook figured no one would have the audacity to go into his room.

If poison had killed Marni and if Hook were the murderer, I figured he might be stupid enough to keep the empty vial in his bathroom. My hands shook as I opened his vanity drawers and checked out his bottles. He had the usual meds for a man his age – things to deal with blood pressure, cholesterol, hair loss, and a bottle of little blue pills. Ick… sperm germs. I placed the bottle back in the drawer and pumped a fistful of liquid soap in my hands. I did two washes and a rinse before drying my hands on my shorts.

Finding nothing incriminating in his medicine collection, I rifled his desk. Most of the drawers were locked. I found a business card clipped to his lampshade. It read
Island Insta Bank International
,
Nevisland, Nevis Island
and a telephone number. The only decoration on the card was a large old-growth oak tree in an unusual shape – no limbs on the left of its thick trunk and a full trailing cluster of branches on the right. I replaced the card, did a quick check of Hook’s closet and then… damn!

The suite door opened and the newly minted widower walked in.

I jumped back into the closet and huddled in a ball under Marni’s long dinner dresses that hung from padded hangers. What could I say if he found me? I could claim my grief had driven me to wallow in Marni’s closet… sounded weak.

His footsteps echoed on the teak floors. Ice cubes clunked in a glass and liquid gurgled from a bottle. Hook swallowed with a loud gulp.

I counted to one hundred to let the alcohol get into his system. My choices were three… I could wait until he fell asleep, which might be days, or I could crawl out on my hands and knees and hope he didn’t notice me, or I could bluff. In for a penny, in for a pound, I stepped out of the closet.

Hook was looking out at the gray-blue sea and away from where I stood.

I cleared my throat… let the gaslighting begin. “What did you want?” I asked the back of his head.

“Huh?” He turned to face me… befuddled.

“You asked me to follow you. What do you want?”

Hook squinted his reptilian eyes, looked confused and frowned at me. “Get out of here!”

“Gladly!” I stomped my foot and turned on my heel exiting his suite. Knucklehead.

It was time for a drink. A rather large drink. I scooted to the salon bar and made myself a large pitcher of screwdrivers. Once back in my room I shed my mourning clothes, threw on my bikini, and drank till I passed out.

Chapter Eleven

After awaking in my suite to the advances of the UpUGo-engorged Hook and escaping to the sun deck with Tink, I started to take a hard look at our situation. Hook refused to let us leave the
Predator
, and it was my responsibility to find a way to get Kit, Roger, and me off this tub. I wiped the tears and manned-up.

The sun warmed my face. The breeze took my mind to Miami, a couple of hundred miles away. Maybe I could swim for it? Or fly away? I could get Jaxbee to teach me to pilot the helicopter, but that was a joke. I could barely drive a stick shift.

My eyes watered from the glare of the sun on the brilliant turquoise sea. I put my hand up to shade my face and spotted a silver object filled with ants flying over the waves headed in our direction. A second object appeared in the wake of the first. As they closed on us, the objects became Zodiac-like inflatable speedboats and the ants became people. No planes overhead… it wasn’t the feds.

Hook’s worst fears were bearing down on us as if they could see right through the
Predator’s
high-tech camouflage. Somebody had found Hook and was coming at him,
Terminator
-style. I didn’t care about Hook, but we could be collateral damage.

Tinkerbelle’s internal alarm was sounding, and she scurried away as my panic kicked in. I scooped her up and raced for the bridge nearly losing both of us down the stairs and over the side. Cutting through the white-on-white main salon I slid on the marble floor and crashed into one of the Roman arches. I scrambled to my feet and continued my mad dash.

“We’re under attack!” I yelled as I burst onto the bridge. I grabbed the giant ornamental brass bell and pulled the rope causing it to make an anemic clang. So much for mustering the troops.

“Let’s pretend I’m in charge,” said Captain Henry at the helm. He hit some buttons on the control console but nothing happened. The silence was deafening.

“What the hell?” Hook screamed.

Captain Henry shook his head and punched the buttons again.

Tinkerbelle buried her head under my arm. I thought about the helicopter. Maybe Jaxbee would help us get away. I could pay her with my next real estate commission… if I lived long enough. Kit and Roger! Where were they? The chance of them getting caught in crossfire was real.

“Where’s Jaxbee?” I yelled at Henry.

“Jax and Dale are putting the mini-sub in dry dock.”

From my vantage point I saw the crew scramble onto all four decks like mice flushed from a storm drain. Dressed in white Armani shirts and shorts and armed with M14 rifles, some with shotguns, all had handguns holstered on their hips. Would it be less painful to get hit by well-dressed friendly fire? As I cowered, my back against the control panel, I felt Hook at my elbow. He was fully armed, a .40-caliber Glock in his hand and still erect in his bathing trunks.

“Shouldn’t you see what they want first?” I asked. “Maybe they’re Greenpeace. Have you harpooned any whales lately?”

Hook shot me an angry look. “Give me Tinkerbelle.”

I tried to hand him the dog but she growled and bared her teeth.

“She’ll be safer with me, but I need a gun.” I held her close to my chest.

“There’s one in your suite in the bottom drawer by the bed.” He turned away and yelled to the captain. “Are they in range of the water cannons? Announce the order for everyone to go to earplugs, give them sixty seconds then activate the LRAD.”

“Just tried to put it in standby mode and it failed. I can’t activate the LRAD. And the cannons aren’t responding either,” Captain Henry yelled.

I couldn’t hear the reply or anything else over the din of my thudding feet and beating heart. Roscoe, the Haitian chef, whammed into me as he ran in the direction I’d just come. I hit the deck hard and Tink, still clutched in my arms, barked at the man as viciously as a puffball can. I pushed myself up with my free hand.

Roscoe held out his hand to help me but I was already up and racing to my suite, which I reached in record time. Tink licked my nose and I started to breathe again. We were safe. From my initial tour of the ship and all its security, I was confident the attackers couldn’t get on board.

Then it hit me. The swim platform was in the down position this morning when Kit and I were hanging out in the Water Sports Marina. If it was still down, we might as well be handing out refreshments for the attackers.

Chapter Twelve

I found the gun and slipped on a bright yellow lifejacket. As I hid in my suite with the gun in one hand and the dog in the other, I heard stomping at the stern. That answered the question about the swim platform. Prepare to serve coffee and donuts.

All hell broke loose with a burst of sonic vibrations painful even down here in my stateroom. Tinkerbelle howled. I felt like the centerpiece in a Quentin Tarantino flick and checked myself for bloodstains.

Had Henry managed to activate the malfunctioning LRAD and now it was backfiring? I jammed one ear against the side of the bed and covered one ear with my hand. I put my other hand on Tink’s head and pushed her floppy ears into her ear holes with my thumb and middle finger. I joined her howling.