Steve Hamilton - North of Nowhere

“There’s only a couple of ways this is going to end up, Alex. Whether it’s us or them, somebody won’t make it out alive.”

“You’ve got little kids, Leon. You helped us with the idea. You don’t need to be there on the water when it happens.”

“You need me to be there,” he said. “Jackie needs me. I’m the only man those guys wouldn’t recognize, right?”

I thought about it. “Yeah, you’re right. Blondie saw all four of us at Vargas’s house, and he saw Ham when he came to O’Dell’s bar.”

“Besides, I’m your partner.”

“Not anymore,” I said. “I’m the one who walked away from that.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t.”

I looked over at him. My partner, Leon, sitting there in the dim light of the dashboard. “You’re really showing me something,” I said. “Once again.”

“Let’s do this,” he said. “Here’s the marina.”

We turned into the parking lot. There were maybe a dozen cars. We pulled up next to the fence. The whole place was well lit, which made sense when you consider how much money was floating here.

“I don’t see anybody at the front gate,” he said.

“Let’s hope it’s open.”

We got out and approached the gate. When I pushed it, it swung right open.

“Piece of cake,” Leon said.

Then a voice behind us. “Gentlemen.” A man came out of the little dockmaster’s shack and caught up to us. “Can I help you?”

“We’re meeting Win Vargas at his boat,” I said. “We’re going fishing with him.”

“Any unaccompanied visitor between the hours of nine P.M. and seven A.M. needs to be on the list,” he said. “I don’t see anybody for Vargas.”

“Oh, he did it again,” I said. “Win is such an idiot. Can you believe that?”

“He’s such an idiot,” Leon said.

The man wasn’t buying it. He had a tight-ass ex-military air about him, the kind of man who did things by the book. “You are not on the list,” he said. “You’re gonna have to wait here until Mr. Vargas arrives to meet you. What time did he say he’d be here?”

I remembered something. When I was here before, to meet Vargas on his boat, I had spoken to a woman, who had some colorful things to say about her computer, and about the man who wouldn’t pay to have it fixed. I hoped this was that man.

“Oh, any minute now,” I said. “Hey, by the way, I spoke to your wife a few days ago. She mentioned you were having some trouble with your computer.”

“Yes? What about it?”

“My friend and I would be more than happy to take a look at it. You know how expensive repairs can be.” I wasn’t sure what we’d actually do with his computer-maybe Leon could monkey around with it. It was the only way I could think of to make some points with him.

“Too late, already had it fixed,” he said. “I appreciate it, though.”

“Next time,” I said. “You just give us a call.”

“I’ll do that,” he said. “Here, you can come wait inside until Vargas gets here.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “We’ll wait in the truck. Give us a chance to get our gear together.”

“I got some coffee in there, help wake you up. You especially, sir,” he said, eyeing my face, “you look like you could use a little something.”

“No, thanks anyway,” I said. “We’ll wait out here.”

“Suit yourself,” he said. “Don’t blame me if you fall right asleep.”

We went back out to the truck and got in.

“Now what?” I said.

“There’s razor wire on top of this fence,” he said. “We’re not climbing it.”

“We could grease him,” I said. “What did you used to call it? Slipping him a Franklin?”

“I don’t think he’ll take it. He’s too straight.”

“We need that boat, Leon. What are we gonna do?”

“Let’s go try the Franklin,” he said. “If that doesn’t work, we’ll have to find a canoe or something. Come in from the river.”

We got out, went back to the front gate. “You got a hundred dollar bill, don’t you?” I said.

“No, I assumed you had one.”

“Ah, hell.” I took my wallet out and started counting twenties.

“Alex…”

“Sixty, eighty. I only have eighty.”

“Alex…”

“What?”

“Be quiet,” he whispered.

I looked up to see him standing next to the shack. He gestured to the small window. When I took a peek inside, I saw our man with his head down on the table.

“He was the one telling me I needed coffee,” I said.

“Shh, come on. Show me where the boat is.”

We tiptoed away from the shack, then made our way down to Vargas’s row. “Next to last on the end,” I said.

When we got to it, Leon stood there for a moment, admiring the boat. “This looks faster than hell,” he said. “It’s perfect.”

“Come on, let’s see if you can start it.”

We climbed aboard. I figured we should both keep low, so I sat on the deck while he did his work. First he pulled out a small flashlight. “Here,” he said. “Hold this.” I held it in place while he put the tension bar into the ignition with one hand, and then started working the pick with his other hand.

Five minutes passed. He changed to another pick.

Five more minutes. He stopped for a moment, shook his hands out.

“I don’t want to rush you,” I said. “But Sleeping Beauty’s gonna wake up and wonder why we never came back with Vargas.”

“I know. Let me try again.”

He worked the lock for another five minutes. “Damn it,” he said. “Damn it all to hell.”

“What about the cabin door? Maybe Vargas keeps a spare key in there.”

“All right, let me try that,” he said, shaking his head. “Damn it.”

He moved to the double doors on the cabin and did his thing in the lock. Tension bar, pick, one rake. The handle turned. “Sure, this one I can do,” he said.

We pushed one of the doors in and stepped down. The first room was a little galley, with lots of shelves and compartments. “You look in here,” I said. “I’ll see what’s in this other room.”

There was another set of double doors. When I opened them, I expected to see the sleeping quarters through the next door. That’s not what I found. All I saw were boxes. From floor to ceiling, nothing but cardboard boxes.

“Leon, come here,” I said.

“Hold on, I’m just getting started here.”

“Come here,” I said.

He stopped what he was doing and poked his head into the room. “What is all this stuff?”

“Appliances,” I said. “Stereos, microwaves. Those big boxes underneath are either refrigerators or stoves.”

“What’s he doing? Running them to Canada, you think?”

“He gave me this big speech at the poker game,” I said, “about how his Canadian customers get killed with the duty crossing the border. I’m guessing that for a certain amount of cash consideration, Vargas will do a little backdoor delivery service with their very expensive American appliances. Blondie said he knew who Vargas was, and what his scam was. I think we just walked right in on it.”

“Of course,” Leon said. “If he went into a Canadian port, he’d have to put up the yellow quarantine flag, let the customs guys come out and check out what he’s bringing in. But it’s a hell of a big lake. He could dock this thing just about anywhere.”

“That explains the double doors. He probably had them custom-made, just so he could haul this stuff in here.”

“He must drive the boat down to Petoskey, load up down there. But why would he leave all this sitting here overnight? Seems risky.”

“The weather,” I said. “Remember yesterday morning? It looked like a storm was coming in. I bet he had to cancel his run.”