Mortal Dilemma (8 page)

“Why Key West?” the bartender named Susie asked.

“Maybe just to get J.D. away for a few days,” said the man named Steve. “She's wound pretty tight after somebody tried to kill her yesterday. She got a call from Matt, told the chief she was going to Key West for a few days, and left.”

“The chief was all right with that?” Susie asked.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “She was supposed to be on administrative leave anyway because of the shooting. I'm kind of filling in for her.”

Shit, the sailor thought. Steve's a cop and the bitch is in Key West. He'd already heard that she was doing the guy named Matt Royal, but he hadn't been able to find him. Now he knew. Royal was in Key West with the bitch. He paid his tab and left.

*    *    *

Jock was waking up. I watched his eyelids move a bit, as if he was rolling his eyeballs behind them. Then his eyes popped open and he saw me. He grinned. “Whatcha doing, podna?”

“Just waiting for my dumbass buddy to wake up.”

“Where are we?”

“The emergency room at the Key West hospital.”

“Is it still Friday?”

I nodded.

“What time is it?”

“A little after seven in the evening.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Since about three this afternoon.”

“Why are we here and what's wrong with my arm?”

“Somebody shot you.”

“How did you get here?”

“Coit Airways. A social worker found the card in your wallet with my contact information and called me.”

“Is Russ here?”

“No. He and Patti flew back to Longboat. J.D. is out in the waiting room with Paul Galis waiting for the pizza delivery guy.”

“You eat too much pizza.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“I'm not sure. I was doing some serious drinking in a bar when they asked me to leave.” He was quiet for a moment, thinking. “That's the last thing I remember. Who shot me?”

“Nobody knows. Yet.”

“It doesn't hurt too bad.”

“Flesh wound. Whoever tried to take you out wasn't a very good shot.”

“And if he didn't mean to take me out, he was a great shot.”

“There's that.”

“Any witnesses?” Jock asked.

“Not yet. The guy who shot you might have used a silencer.”

“How did I get here?”

“Taxi. Jock, what the hell is going on?”

“It looks like somebody's gunning for me.”

“Gunning for you?” I laughed. “What? You think this is Dodge City?

“Well, you know what I mean.”

“Who's after you?”

“Could be any number of people. I made a lot of enemies over the years, podna. Most of them are really bad people.”

“How would somebody like that even know who you are, much less how to find you?”

“I don't know.”

“What made you leave Longboat? And why the secrecy?”

“I'd been there long enough and I wasn't getting any better. J.D. needs all your attention right now.” He grinned. “If I'd told you I was leaving, you'd have pitched a fuss and I would've had to kick your ass again.”

“But you made a point of letting Dave know where you were going when you left Tampa.”

“Only to Miami. I'd called ahead and had a charter pilot fly me down here. I didn't think the agency would be able to track me to Key West. At least not for a few days. By then, I'd probably be gone.”

“Where'd you get the alias you're using? Mark Bailey. Dave Kendall didn't know about this one.”

“Mark's a guy I met hiking in the Pyrenees last summer. I always have an alias or two the agency doesn't have anything to do with. Just being cautious. Mark doesn't stay in one place too long, so his ID was a good one for me to use for a few days if I ever needed it. I put it together when I got back from Spain.”

“Talk to me, Jock.”

“I may have put you and J.D. in danger.”

“How?”

“By just being your houseguest, maybe. More likely, somebody may
have figured out that you're my family. Killing you and J.D. would be their revenge for what I've been involved in.”

“How would anybody have figured that out?”

“I don't know, but the world is getting more dangerous. We ferretted out a mole in our operation a year or so ago. Maybe we missed one.”

“And you didn't tell J.D. and me that we might be in danger?”

“I just figured it out. Sitting in a bar all day. I think the shooting up in Alachua County may have been connected to me. I was going to call you, but apparently I got too drunk to do anything but get shot.”

“Somebody tried to kill you.”

“I don't think so. A pro would have gotten me. I'm thinking he meant to barely wound me. That would get you and J.D. here.”

“How would he have known that you carried the card with my name to call in case of an emergency?”

“I've never had such a card, Matt. Somebody put that information in my wallet after I went down this afternoon. Somebody who knew you'd be here as soon as you heard I was in the hospital. Somebody who wants you here. I may be like the staked goat. Just the bait to get you and J.D. to the killing ground.”

F
RIDAY
, O
CTOBER
31

“Y
OU
'
RE AWAKE
,” J.D. said, leaning in to plant a kiss on Jock's forehead. “How're you feeling?”

“Hung over, but I'll survive.”

“Glad you're alive,” Galis said.

“Paul. It's always good to see an old friend. How are you?”

“I'm fine, Jock. What can you tell me about what happened?”

Jock told them what he'd told me.

“And you don't know who's after you,” Galis said.

Jock shook his head. “I'm not sure, but my best guess is that it's some very bad terrorists. I've pissed a lot of them off over the years.”

“What makes you think whoever is after you is here in Key West?”

“I spotted a guy in the Tampa airport whom I thought might be following me. I wasn't sure, and he didn't get on the flight to Miami, so I didn't think much about it. Nobody caught my attention when I got off the plane in Miami, but when I started thinking about it this morning, I remembered a young couple at the gate who didn't seem to be paying much attention to anybody but each other. I don't think they were waiting for anybody and there were no other planes coming in or leaving at that time of the morning. Maybe they followed me to the charter outfit and found out I was headed for Key West and passed the information on to somebody here.”

“I don't understand why anybody would lure us to Key West,” J.D. said. “Wouldn't it be easier to take us out on Longboat?”

“Maybe not,” Galis said. “There's a better chance for them to get lost in the crowd here, particularly during Fantasy Fest and when a cruise ship is in port.”

“There's also the fact that Cuba is only a couple of hours away in a fast boat,” Jock said. “And if you were killed because you came here to take care of me, there'd be no question in my mind that I was the cause of your death. Maybe they'd planned to do it on Longboat, but when I left suddenly, they made it up on the fly.”

“I'm not sure any of this makes a lot of sense,” I said, “but we better take precautions.”

“Matt,” Galis said, “I don't like the idea of you staying at the Pier House. Too public. I've got a guest room that'll fit you and J.D. just fine. I live up on Lower Sugarloaf Key, well away from the crowds.”

I thought about that for a moment. J.D. nodded at me. “We'll accept your hospitality,” I said. “What about the Pier House reservation?”

“I'll take care of it,” Galis said. “They won't have any trouble renting that room tonight.”

“What are we going to do about this lump?” I was looking at Jock.

“He's welcome to the sofa. I'd like to keep you guys close until we get this sorted out. Do you have weapons?”

Jock nodded. “I checked my bag at the airport. There's a nine mil in it.”

“Where's your bag?” I asked.

“I left it with the desk clerk at the private terminal where the charter pilot let me off.”

“I'll have someone retrieve it for you and bring it to my house,” Galis said. “Matt?”

“Yeah. A nine-millimeter Kel-Tec.”

“I've got a Glock 17 in my purse,” J.D. said.

“Jock, what time did you get to Key West this morning?” Galis asked.

“About three, three thirty.”

“Where were you from then until nine when the bars open?”

“Bars are always open if you know where to look. Or find the right cabbie.”

“Stock Island?” Galis asked.

Jock grinned. “You're one hell of a detective.”

Tina Rudek, the social worker, came through the door. “I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Bailey, but there is the matter of insurance.”

“Send the bill to me at the sheriff's office,” Galis said. “We'll get it taken care of.”

She smiled in apparent relief. “Thank you, Detective.”

When she'd left, J.D. said, “Hospitals always have their priorities straight. You made her a very happy young woman, Paul.”

F
RIDAY
, O
CTOBER
31

P
AUL
G
ALIS
'
WIFE
had despaired of life in the Keys some years before and returned to Minnesota. “Said she missed the snow,” Paul said. “I was going to use that as evidence when I sued for divorce on the grounds of insanity. Fortunately, she was happy to get rid of me, so there was no contest. She signed the papers and left.”

The house had been redecorated in what might be described as Lower Keys Bachelor Pad. The walls were covered with photographs of the flora and fauna of the Keys that Paul had taken over the years. Some of them were surprisingly good. It was a very orderly home and reminded me of my old boating buddy, Bucky Buckmaster's, mantra, “A tidy ship is a happy ship.” If that applied to houses, Paul lived in a very happy home.

It was close to nine o'clock when we settled into the living room with drinks in hand. J.D. was sipping from a glass of wine, Paul and I were drinking beer, and Jock had a large glass of ice water. We'd gotten him a Big Mac with cheese and fries on the way to Galis' house and he had dived into them like a ravenous dog. By the time we got to Paul's, there was nothing left but crumbs.

“How's the hangover?” I asked.

Jock shook his head. “Better by the minute.”

“The arm?”

“Nothing to it. A little sore, but I'll live.”

Paul finished his beer and stood. “I'm off to bed. Jock, you and Matt can flip for the sofa. Loser has to sleep with J.D.” He grinned and was gone.

“Probably be easier if I took the sofa,” J.D. said.

“Hush,” I said.

“I couldn't take the excitement,” Jock said. “Headache, you know.”

“If you two are finished,” J.D. said, “we need to call Dave Kendall.”

“Not yet,” Jock said.

“When?” I asked.

“Soon. But not yet.”

“Talk to me, Jock,” I said. “Why are we in Key West?”

“I couldn't think of anyplace better to go, and the next plane leaving Tampa when I got there was headed to Miami. I wanted an island and Key West is an island and it has a lot of bars that'll serve you all night. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Why don't we call Dave? You're going to have to do it soon.”

“I don't think I'm going back.”

“Back where?”

“To the agency.”

“What's up, Jock?” J.D. asked. “Please tell us what's going on. I'll leave you two alone if that'll help.”

“No. You need to be part of this, to understand what kind of person you're dealing with.”

“I already know that, Jock.”

“I think you might change your mind when you hear it all.”

“Tell us. Get it out in the open.”

“I'm done with the killing. No more.”

“You can leave the field, Jock,” I said. “Become an analyst or something that keeps you in an office.”

“I'd still be involved in the killing, even if I wasn't the one pulling the trigger.”

“You only kill bad guys,” I said.

“Right. But what if the bad guy is also a good guy?”

“What do you mean?” J.D. asked.

“Even the foulest murderers have mothers.”

“That's pretty obvious,” I said.

“Sometimes they have wives and children and hold down day jobs,” Jock said. “They get up and go to work just like regular folks. Our own clandestine services are full of people just like that. And sometimes, mistakes are made.”

He was right, of course, but there was a very distinct difference. “Our people don't cut off the heads of innocents, send suicide bombers to kill children, or execute people just because they follow a different faith.”

“That's what separates us from them,” Jock said. “But sometimes when I kill a bad guy, I deprive his wife and children of their husband and father, maybe their livelihood. How do I square that?”

“Maybe you can't,” said J.D. “Any more than the soldier who kills the enemy in combat, the enemy soldier who has a family back home and is just doing his duty to his own country, can square the whole thing. You just kill the enemy to protect the lives of your own people. It took me a long time to understand what you do and why you do it, but I've come to terms with the necessity of it. You're a good man, Jock Algren, maybe the second best man I ever met.” She smiled. “And there are days when I'm pretty sure you're the first best.”

Jock laughed. “Those are the days when Matt's in the doghouse.”