Matt Royal Mystery - 03 - Blood Island (25 page)

Jock had broken the lock on the door of the shed and was inside. In
a couple of minutes, he came out. "I've set the charge. It shouldn't do anything but cut off the electricity. I don't think it'll even make much noise,
and it surely won't blow the place up."

We moved away from the area to a few feet from the back of the main
house. Jock used some sort of device he had in his pocket to blow the
charge. There was a loud pop, and the lights in the house went out. We
moved quickly toward the cabin in which I'd found Peggy.

The guard from Peggy's cabin was running toward the guardhouse,
his rifle strapped across his back. I saw another guard coming from the
area of the trail leading to the little beach I'd found the night before. They
seemed confused by the loss of power and were probably trying to find
the guy in charge.

I unbolted the door to the cabin and went in. "Peggy," I said, loudly.
"It's Matt."

"I'm here, Matt. I'm tied to the bed."

I looked around, peering through the goggles. I saw her across the
room, straining at ropes that bound each arm to the bed. Other women were beginning to stir. I ran to Peggy and cut the ropes. She was wearing
a white gown and was barefoot.

"Can you walk?" I said.

"Yes. But we have to get the Rev."

"Do you have any shoes?"

"Flip-flops. Under the bed."

"Get them, and let's go."

She reached under the bed and came up with the flip-flops.

I started for the door, leading her by the hand. Jock and Logan had
taken positions on either side of the entrance, facing the courtyard, rifles
at the ready. We left the building, and I bolted the door, keeping the
drugged women in and out of harm's way.

"We've got to get Simmermon," Peggy said again.

"We don't have time to get him. We've got to get out of here before
these guys figure out what's happening."

"Matt, Simmermon has some big plans about blowing people up. I
don't know what they are, but it's about to start. We have to get him to tell
us what lie's doing."

I stopped at the door near Logan and Jock. "What do you know?" I
asked.

"He took me to his room today. I tried to get him to talk to me about
what he was going to do. He just said it was big, and rambled on about
God telling him to blow up some people. He said that his disciples were
going to change the world in a day or two."

"Is he crazy?"

"I think so. He must be."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No. Oh, you mean did he screw me? He tried, and I had to let him,
but he couldn't, if you know what I mean. He said it was God's way of
punishing him for not starting the bombings earlier."

Jock turned and said, "We'd better get him. Do you know where he
is, Peggy?"

I said, "Peggy, meet Jock and Logan, my friends."

Peggy nodded. "I can take you to his room, but there're usually
guards in the house."

"Let's go," said Logan.

We ran toward the main house, staying in the shadows of the two
cabins that lay between the one where Peggy had been held and the house.
The sound of a rifle rang out, and a small clod of dirt kicked up beside
Logan's feet. I saw a rifleman on the porch of the big house, lining up
another shot. Jock fired from the hip, on the run, and the man tumbled to
the ground.

I looked up and saw another rifle beginning to poke out of an upstairs window. "Second story, on the right," I called out. Logan blasted
away with his M16, knocking the gunman back into the room.

We dashed for the front porch, Jock in the lead and me in the rear
holding onto Peggy. She was running barefoot, holding her flip-flops in
her hand. By the time I hit the steps leading to the verandah, Jock
and Logan were flanking the door, rifles at the ready. A classic infantry
approach.

As I reached the porch, Jock nodded. He stepped back and kicked
open the front door. I had my rifle trained on the opening, but no one was
there. I was looking at a traditional entrance hall, with a stairway reaching
to the second floor. Living and dining rooms opening off the hall. Everything appeared green through the night-vision goggles.

Peggy whispered, "Upstairs, first door on the right."

"Stay here," I said.

I started through the door, Jock and Logan providing cover. A man
appeared at the top of the stairs. I shot him, and he tumbled down, landing at my feet. I saw movement to my right, and turned to fire. A white
gown seemed to float out of the living room. I realized it was a girl, her
eyes wide, fear etched on her face. I grabbed her by the arm and flung her
back inside.

"Take care of her, Peggy."

I started up the stairs. Logan and jock took a quick look into the
rooms flanking the hallway, and announced that they were clear. They followed me up the steps, climbing backward, rifles pointing downward.
Mine was pointing toward the landing at the top.

I topped die stairs and Jock came up behind me. Logan planted himself on the second step from the top to guard the front door and entrance hall. Peggy and the girl were cowering in the living room, still in sight of
Logan.

I kicked in the door to the bedroom Peggy had pointed out. A man
was standing in the middle of the room with a pistol pointing at me. I shot
him in the heart. Another man rose from behind the bed, his arms in the
air. Simmermon.

"Don't shoot," he said. "I'm a man of God."

I waved the rifle toward the door. "Come with me, Reverend."

"Who are you?"

"I'm your worst nightmare." I'd always wanted to say that.

"Where are we going?"

"Never mind. You can come or I can just shoot you."

"I'm coming."

We went back down the stairs, jock leading the way, Simmermon
next, and then me, with my rifle touching his sorry back. We reached the
hallway and started for the front door. A bullet whizzed by my head, burying itself in the steps behind me. Simmermon and I both dove for the floor.

Peggy had moved out of the living room. She slammed the door shut
and dropped back to the floor.

"Where's the girl?" I shouted.

"She's under the sofa," said Peggy. "She's the housemaid. She'll be
fine right where she is."

Logan had moved into the living room and was peering out a window. I joined him.

"The guards are getting into position in the front," Logan said. "I
saw a couple more head for the back of the house."

A disembodied voice came out of the dark courtyard, amplified by a
bullhorn. "You assholes are surrounded. Come out with your hands up."

There were probably fifteen men with rifles in kneeling firing posi-
dons in the courtyard. Not a very good tactical position. Amateurs. They
were like the ducks in the shooting gallery at the carnival. Just waiting to
be taken down.

Logan had gone to the back of the house. I heard him call out.
"There're half a dozen armed men at the back of the house."

Jock said, "Oh, shit."

"What now?" asked Logan.

"We attack," I said.

"Attack? Okay," said Logan.

"At Bragg, they taught us that when surrounded, we Attack! Attack!
Attack!"

Jock grinned. "Sounds like a plan."

Peggy spoke up. "You're all as crazy as the Rev"

"Jock," I said. "Go out the back and use some of those grenades
when I give the word. Logan, you stay with me. We're going to shoot the
asses off those people. Peggy, you stay down."

I turned to Simmermon. "If you make one move I don't like, you're
a dead man."

"I'm a man of God," he said again.

"I'm on my way," said jock as he ran for the back of the house.

I shouted to the men in front, "We've got the Rev"

The bullhorn came back. "It don't matter. We've got our marching
orders."

"I've also got Michelle Browne," I hollered.

"That don't matter none either," came back the bullhorn enhanced
cracker voice.

Jock yelled from the back of the house. "I'm in place."

"Go when you hear the first shot," I said.

"Got it," said Jock.

I could see the guy standing in the middle of the courtyard with the
bullhorn to his mouth. He'd turn to the side occasionally and spit. "If you
don't come outta there, I'm gonna turn my boys loose," he said.

I shot him in the chest. I moved my sights just to his right and pulled
the trigger again. Logan took out the one at the end of the firing line, and
then the next one. I knocked another over and moved to the next one.

By then, they were getting the message. They'd gone prone on the
ground, and were backing to the cover of the cabins. Five of them lay dead
on the courtyard.

Just as I fired the first shot, I heard the first of a series of explosions.
Jock was throwing the hand grenades with deadly accuracy. The explosions kept coming, one after the other. After the fifth one, there was quiet.
Jock called out, "I think I got them all. Let's go."

Simmermon was still on the floor. He lay there, his arms shielding
his head, whimpering. I kicked him. "Get up, you sorry bastard," I said.

"No. I'll die."

I put the muzzle of my rifle in his ear. "You're going to die if you don't
get your sorry ass on your feet."

He came to his hands and knees and then to his feet.

I took Peggy by the hand and led her to the back of the house, nudging Simmermon with my rifle. Logan kept firing out the window at the
fleeing guards. As I got to the back of the house, I called for Logan to join
us. He came on the run.

I put Peggy's hand in Jock's. "Take her back to the boat. Logan, you
bring up the rear, and take care of Simmermon. I'm going to stay here for
a minute or two to make sure none of the bad guys are still up for a fight."

They went out the back door. I stood in the darkness, staring through
the night vision goggles. A wave of disgust washed over me. I'd just killed
several men and scared the piss out of some others. I wondered if they
were just young men caught up in this in the same way Peggy was. I hoped
not. I wanted them to be really bad guys. Maybe I'd feel better about killing
them.

I didn't see any movement. I headed out the back of the house, found
the trail, and walked carefully toward the boat. As I got close, I heard
Logan say in a loud whisper, "Matt?"

"It's me," I said. "I'm coming in."

Logan had stopped about a hundred feet from the water, guarding the
rear, giving jock and Peggy time to get onto the boat. He'd tied the preacher's hands with some twine and stuffed a handkerchief in his mouth
as a gag.

We eased our way toward the shoreline. Jock and Peggy crouched in
the bushes near the water. Jock turned and put his finger to his lips.

We crawled up to where Jock was hiding. He put his finger to his lips
again, and then pointed toward the boat. There was a figure standing in the
water at the bow. In the green glow of the goggles, I saw the man standing
in knee-deep water, talking into a handheld radio. Then I saw movement
at the stern. Somebody was trying to board Recess.

I touched Logan on the shoulder and pointed to the man at the bow.
I pointed to myself and then to the figure at the stern. Logan's old infantry
training kicked in. He raised his rifle, pointing at the man at the bow. Just
as he fired, I shot the man on the stern. Both bodies crumpled into the
water.

"Let's go," I shouted.

Jock boosted Peggy up onto the boat while Logan and I stood watching the shoreline.

"Okay," Jock said, "I've got it. Come on aboard." He was scanning
the shoreline, rifle at the ready.

I reached down and tugged at the anchor, loosening it in the sandy
bottom. Logan shoved Simmermon up the ladder and into the cockpit. I
climbed up the stern after Logan, got to the helm, and used the windlass
to retrieve the anchor. I cranked the big Yamahas, turned the boat on its
axis, and came on plane as I ran the reciprocal course of the one we'd come
in on. If I ran aground, we'd be in big trouble. Simmermon was lying on
the deck, and Jock and Logan were putting new clips in their rifles.

We roared into the turn into the Boca Grande Channel, and set a
course for Naples. I wasn't going back to Key West that night. As we came
around the northern end of Blood Island, I heard Logan curse. I turned to
see what the problem was. Two go-fast boats full of riflemen were rounding the head of the island, heading straight for us.

Jock spotted them. "Oh, shit," he said.