Past Due (44 page)

“Of course—you are. That’s why—you’re here.”

“No, it’s not. I’m here—to take my wife—home.”

“She’s not going home.

“Yes, I am, Tommy,” said Alura Straczynski, holding her notebooks tight to her chest.

“But you said—you loved me. You said you always would.”

“I did, yes. And I suppose I do. But Jackson is a part of me. I can no sooner leave him as leave my heart, my lungs, my journals. I couldn’t leave my life then, I can’t do it now.”

“And you would take her back, Jackson? Again?”

“Again and always,” said the justice. “Without hesitation. Her life is my adventure.”

“What does that mean?” said Tommy.

“She knows.”

“Yes, I do,” she said. “Let’s go home, Jackson.”

Tommy Greeley stared at her for a long moment, his waxy face betrayed by the emotions flitting through his eyes. He turned his face to his old friend Jackson Straczynski. He raised his sword high, prepared to give a brutal blow, when he stopped at the sound.

We all stopped at the sound. From out in the hallway. From down the stairwell. The sound of metal sheeting clanking loudly, the
fishing lines strung across the stairs being tripped, first one, then the other.

Colfax raised his hand to quiet us, pulled back the slide on his Beretta, walked over to the door. With two hands on the gun, he leaned on the door frame and carefully aimed his gun at the edge of the stairway where I was certain, positive, that Phil Skink, who had obviously missed my signals, who had clumsily set off the alarms, where Phil Skink was about to appear. And I feared at that moment that Skink’s life depended on me having to do something courageous, something athletic, which only meant that Phil Skink was in serious trouble because courageous and athletic was not me, really, honestly, not me at all.

“H
ELLOO?” CAME A
familiar voice from the hallway and with it I let out a breath of relief. “Helloo? Is, like, anyone home? For some reason I’m tripping all over these wires, like what is that all about? Wires? Helloo?”

“Bloody Kimberly,” said Colfax. “Get in ’ere.”

“ ’Sup with the gun, Colfax? Put that away before you hurt someone. What are you, shooting the rats? This place is a major creepazoid. Why can’t you just stay in a hotel or something? I know, I know, the boss wanted to get the feel of the old ship, but really now. Puhleeze. Just know I’m not staying. Sooner I get off this old bucket the happier I’ll be.”

Kimberly Blue entered the room carrying a brown paper grocery bag. She was dressed down, blue jeans, a loose white shirt, and maybe that was why I thought there was something different about her. Something wary maybe, without her usual obliviousness, something sad yet determined. Different.

“Victor?” she said, still holding the bag. “What are you doing here? And Justice Straczynski and Mrs. Straczynski? And those swords? What, is it a party? You should have told me, I would have dressed. I have this really mad sailor’s outfit. And instead of lunch meat I would have gotten something festive.” She walked, seemingly unconcerned, to the bar, put down her bag. “Maybe a bottle of imported
vodka and some hors d’oeuvres. I could go for some hors d’oeuvres, couldn’t you? Those little quiches, with the spinach. Yah. No fish, of course, I learned my lesson, but how about crab puffs? Are crab puffs okay?” She looked at her boss, and then at me, took in the strange scene, the somber tone. “So, everyone,” she said. “What’s going on?”

“Did you see anyone outside the ship on your way up here?” said Colfax.

“Ah, no. Like, everyone’s got someplace better to be than a rusting bucket sinking in the harbor. And I still don’t know why I couldn’t just put the supplies myself onto the little boat. I mean, I put them in the truck, I could certainly take them out and put them in the boat. I’d rather stay there than here any day. At least that boat has a bed. But Colfax is all, don’t go on the boat. And I’m all, but where do I put them? And he’s all, just leave them in the truck. And I’m all, but that’s pretty stupid.”

“Kimberly?” said Colfax.

“Yes?”

“Just shut up.”

“Okay.”

“Where’s the boat?” I said.

“At the end of the pier,” said Kimberly. “Maybe you didn’t see it because it’s hidden by the warehouse. For some reason that’s where Colfax docked it.”

“I said shut up,” said Colfax.

“So that’s where she is.”

“Who?” said Kimberly.

“Beth. Colfax kidnapped her and put her on the boat.”

Her eyes widened, her head came around and then again like an old-time comedian doing a perfect double take. “Excuse me.”

“And the FBI is searching for your boss,” I said.

“Why?”

“Because he’s been a fugitive from justice for twenty years. Because he’s really Tommy Greeley.”

She took a step back and staggered onto a stool, looked over at Tommy, still standing with a sword in his hand.

He shrugged and smiled.

“And now,” I continued, “he’s trying to have a sword fight duel with a sitting Supreme Court justice, whose wife was planning to sail away with you guys to the Caribbean but has decided to stay. And everybody is looking for money that isn’t there. That nails it pretty much, doesn’t it? Except maybe for the murders.”

“Murders?” said Tommy.

“Yes. Murders. I thought it was you who had done all the killing, I was certain it was you, following the path of betrayal, meting out your wild justice, but now I’m not so sure. Because the guy who committed the murders is the guy who’s looking hardest for the money. And that doesn’t seem to be you, does it? You’re looking for something else.”

“All I wanted was to get back what I lost.”

“What was that?” said Straczynski.

“Everything you took away from me.”

Tommy lunged, but meekly now, the lunge of a man too tired to really try. Straczynski parried with a flick of his wrist.

“You were going to jail,” said the justice.

“I was going to freedom, but you took it all from me. My love, my life, my money. So that’s what I was trying to get back, just that, yes. But I’m not a killer.”

“No, you’re not,” I said. “And you know what convinced me? Something as small as a dime. The loop on the sabers. If you were out to kill your enemies, why would you leave the loop on your saber. Why wouldn’t you file it off, sharpen the point, dip it in poison, stick it in your enemy’s eye?”

“It wouldn’t be sporting,” said Tommy.

“No, it wouldn’t. I thought it was you following the path of your betrayal, but it was someone else, following that same path for reasons of his own. Colfax,” I said, “you’ve been a very bad boy.”

“It was business, just that, you understand,” said Colfax. “Nothing personal. But terms is terms and I need to be paid. I was just making a proposal to our friend Babbage, a little gentle persuasion, and next thing I know ’e’s flopping around like a tuna on the deck. And that Lonnie, I was passed word ’e knew who ’ad taken the suitcase. I came in with questions, he came after me with a wrench. I didn’t ’ave no choice. It was self-defense.”

“You stupid son of a bitch,” said Tommy.

“You owed me the payments. What did you expect me to do? Take you to court? I’m just satisfying the terms of my engagement. And don’t you be all ’igh and mighty yourself, Victor. Nothing more bracing than a lecture on morals from a lawyer. It’s like an hyena teaching the lion to tuck in his napkin. And even with all I done, I’m still owed my money and no one’s going nowhere until we figure ’ow to take care of that.”

A sound pierced his speech, a soft high-pitched sob, and then another, and another, each louder than the sob before it. It was Kimberly, on her stool, her face covered by one of her hands, crying.

“What’s the matter with you?” said Colfax.

“This is the worst, just the biggest poodle,” she said between her sobs. “This is so humiliating. I knew there was something wrong. I’m, like, the vice president, remember, the vice president of external relations, and still nobody tells me anything. I mean, I’m supposed to know things. I’m an officer, dammit, and a shareholder too. I have rights. But you’re running out of money and does anyone tell me? You’re Eddie Dean and you’re Tommy Greeley both and did you tell me? Colfax is running around killing half the world and do you tell me? No. Don’t tell Kimberly anything. She’s only good for making coffee, and I don’t even make good coffee. And then you go kidnapping our lawyer, like that’s okay too. It’s a poodle, totally. This whole thing skinks.”

“Skinks?” I said.

She looked at me and I saw it, right there, yes, in the knowing glint in her eye.

“Stinks,” she said. “Whatever. You know what I’m going to do. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time and you know what I’m going to do?”

“Who the ’ell cares?” said Colfax. “We got—”

“Shut up, Colfax,” said Kimberly, with steel in her voice, and Colfax shut up. “Mr. D, or G, or whatever. I’m, like, grateful and all for the opportunity, but I think I’m going to quit. This is all too much for me. I’m just a little girl from Bellmawr, New Jersey. I didn’t know this was the way business was done. Really.”

“Kimberly, dear,” said Tommy. “I want to explain.”

“I don’t want an explanation. Thanks for everything, really, but I just want to quit. It’s a matter of ethics or something like that.”

“Kimberly.”

“Besides, your last check bounced.”

“Enough already,” said Colfax. “I don’t want to ’ear about who loves who, who’s leaving who, I’ve had enough of your bleeding duel. What I want is my money.”

“You heard Victor,” said Tommy. “There is no money, I’m afraid. None. I was heavily invested. Playing the margins. You know how that goes. Poof. No money.”

“Oh, there’s always money, isn’t there?” He pointed his gun at the justice. “ ’E’s got some, I know that. ’E took it from you, didn’t ’e? But ’e didn’t give it all away, no ’e did not. Probably put it in the bank for some rainy day. And right now it’s pouring. So you’re going to get it for me.”

“Not a penny,” said the justice.

“Don’t be a stupid sot.”

“Too late for that.”

“It won’t work, Colfax,” I said. “It’s over. The FBI’s already on the way.”

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not. Beth has already been rescued off that boat and the FBI is on the way, probably crawling all over the dock as we speak.”

“It’s good you don’t play poker for a living, Victor.”

“It’s not a bluff.”

“Look, I’m not kidding around ’ere.” He turned his gun away from the justice, toward Alura Straczynski. “You, the prune, you’re coming with me.”

He grabbed her by the arm, pulled her close.

“Let go of me,” she said. “Jackson, stop him.”

He placed the gun against her cheek. “ ’E ain’t doing squat. I got the gun and I’m getting off this damn bucket. If Victor’s on the up, you’ll keep the coppers off and at the same time convince your loving ’usband to bring the money.”

“Leave her be,” said Straczynski.

“Sure I will,” he said, “soon as I get my money.”

There was a moment when Jackson glanced at Tommy and he glanced back, a moment when they were back to a pair of undergraduates, still young and full of possibilities, young men with swords in their hands.

Two quick lunges.
SWAK, SWAK.

Colfax recoiled, lines of blood appeared on his face. “Are you insane?” he said as held Alura tighter to himself and pointed the gun at the two men.

SWAK, SWAK,
and as quick as that the gun spun out of his hand, spun right to Kimberly, who gazed at it with curiosity for a moment and then picked it up as casually as if picking up a seashell at the shore.

“There you go, Kimberly,” said Colfax, reaching out his hand, his hostage still in front of him. “Be a nice little quail and hand over the gun.”

With a quick flick, she pointed the gun at him. It didn’t quiver in her hand. Colfax saw something in her face and stepped back.

“You might want to go now, Mr. D,” said Kimberly.

“Are they really coming?” said Tommy.

“For sure,” she said. “It’s my fault, I’m afraid. I wish now I had waited. They’re probably already at the door. But you know the ship, you probably know another way off. You can always jump.”

“Kimberly,” I said. “What are you doing?”

She glanced at me, and as she did Colfax tossed Alura aside and lunged for the gun. Tommy slashed him in the leg, sending him sprawling. Jackson Straczynski put the button of his sword on Colfax’s neck and pressed down.

“You better hurry,” said Kimberly, the gun now pointing at Colfax’s face.

“Kimberly?” I said.

“I know what I’m doing, V,” she said and I could see in the squint of her eyes, the set of her mouth, that she did know what she was doing, exactly what she was doing.

“I thought you’d come with me,” said Tommy.

“I can’t, Mr. D. I already quit, remember?”

“Kimberly, there’s something I need to tell you.” He glanced at Alura. “There’s something we need to tell you.”

“No there isn’t.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Yes, she does,” I said. “She understands everything.”

He turned to me. “I was blaming you for all that went wrong, but I guess I should be thanking you instead.”

“Don’t.”

“Okay. So I should just go.”

“That’s the best thing for everyone, Mr. D.”

“Hey, Tommy,” I said. “How about this Christmas, instead of sending another bottle to your mother, why don’t you send roses?”

Just then we heard it, the jangle of sheet metal, something slamming to the ground, a bellow, a curse.

“Go,” she said.

“What will I do? Where will I go?” he said.

“Figure it out,” said Kimberly. “And this time, maybe, forgive a little.”

He looked at her, his immobile face filled, for the first time I ever saw, with something close to emotion.

The sound of footsteps came clear, echoing, more than one set, more then two sets.

“Go,” she said.

“Okay,” he said. “Yes. But I’ll be back,” he said, and then, just like that, with surprising quickness, he was gone, sword and all, out the door, down the hall, into some other passage, away.

“Kimberly,” I said.

“Shut up,” she said. “Just shut up for once, all right, V?”

And I did, we all did, with Colfax on the ground and Kimberly holding the gun and Justice Jackson Straczynski now standing, with a sword in one hand and the other around his wife. We stayed there, quiet, as the footsteps thundered, as the thunder closed in, we stayed there, wordlessly, waiting for them to come.