Jack Du Brul - Charon's landing

“Burt Manning?”

“He broke into Mercer’s house. Him and another man. They were there to kill him. And I know you sent him there. I know you wanted to have Mercer killed.” Despite her anger, Aggie began crying again.

His eyes went wide with shock. “Burt Manning tried to kill Mercer last night? Are you sure?”

“I was there, Daddy. Burt and another man broke into the house. They killed an FBI agent. Burt almost killed me before Mercer shot him. Mercer was shot in the shoulder and a friend of his in the leg, though it was an artificial leg so he was okay.” Aggie knew she was babbling. She’d wanted to be strong when she confronted her father, but it came pouring out of her in a torrent. “I know you sent them. That’s why you didn’t want me to see Mercer again.”

Max took Aggie in his arms, holding her trembling body close to his, stroking her hair, all the while muttering softly in her ear. “It’s okay now, you’re all right.”

A few minutes passed as Aggie recovered, her sobs easing into silence. When she calmed, Max held her at arm’s length so that he could look her in the eye. “You weren’t hurt?” Aggie shook her head, and he hugged her again, relief making him clutch her tightly.

“Aggie, listen to me,” he said at length. “Burt Manning doesn’t work for me anymore. He hasn’t for months. He has his own business as a security specialist. I knew even when he worked for Petromax that he was unbalanced. He was good at his job, but he was too unstable to control. I fired him last spring. I don’t know anything about him trying to kill Mercer, but I can tell you it has nothing to do with me.”

Max smiled, his own eyes glistening with concern and love. “Ever since you were little, you’ve accused me of a lot of things, and some of them were even true. But I draw the line well short of murder. Besides, why would I want to kill Mercer? He’s a good friend of mine.”

“But you told me not to go near him again,” she accused quietly.

“Sweetheart, I did that to protect you. I know you’ve had a crush on him and I just didn’t want you to get hurt. He has quite a reputation with women. A schoolgirl infatuation is one thing, and even though it’s been years since you’ve seen him, he’d surely break your heart. I like Mercer, but I wouldn’t trust him with you. That’s why I warned you away. Oh, my poor little girl.” They hugged again as she wished they’d done more when she was a child, but even now it wasn’t too late.

“Aggie, I know you’re involved with the leader of that organization you work for. I don’t approve of him, but I know he treats you well and makes you happy.” He didn’t know that they were discussing marriage. She’d never had the courage to tell him. “Get Philip Mercer out of your mind. It’s for the best. Okay?”

Aggie nodded slowly, her tears finally drying up.

“How’s this, kiddo? I’ll make you a deal. I won’t say anything about you smoking or ask why you were at Mercer’s house at quarter past ten last night, if you promise to forget about him.”

Aggie smiled up at her father, a frail, hurt smile full of trust. She threw her arms around him again, losing herself in him like she did with her favorite chair. “I love you, Dad.”

“And you are my life, sweetheart. Don’t you ever forget that. Are you going to be all right?”

“I’ll be fine. I think I’ll leave town for a while. I just need to get away.”

“Sure, you do that. Listen, nobody’s using the company house on Hilton Head. A Petromax jet could have you there in an hour. Do you want me to arrange it for you?” Aggie nodded. “Excellent. How’s this? I have to go to London for a couple of days. After I get back, what do you say I join you?”

“That would be great.” She smiled as best she could.

As soon as her father had gone, Aggie dialed US Airways. The ticketing agent came on the line after a few frustrating minutes of voice mail.

“What’s your next available flight out of Reagan Airport?” Aggie demanded sharply.

“What is your destination, miss?”

“Alaska eventually but right now it doesn’t matter, I just need to get out of Washington.” Aggie hadn’t told her father what time she was at Mercer’s house last night, yet he had known.

Oh, God.

While Aggie Johnston was making frantic preparations to flee the nation’s capital, Mercer was only ten miles away doing the exact same thing, though without the urgency of fear. When it came to packing, he considered himself something of an expert. Rarely would he carry an item that he wouldn’t use or forget anything essential. Not only was he economical in his selections, he was quick. Eleven minutes passed from the time he tossed his leather garment bag and hand grip onto his destroyed bed until he zipped them both closed.

Since leaving the Willard Hotel late that morning, this was the first eleven minutes he’d spent away from the telephone. If he was going to leave the protective custody of the FBI, he was going to give himself the best possible odds. Getting information he might need in Alaska, Mercer called in almost as many favors as he’d promised. Even with Kerikov trying to kill him, and knowing the Russian would redouble his efforts, there was still no way Mercer was going to let this drop. He was enraged that his home had been violated and his friends put in danger. The threats to his life were something he could handle, but not when they involved those he cared about, especially Harry and, now, Aggie. He’d gotten her unlisted number from a friend at the phone company but had been frustrated by a continuous busy signal.

His phone rang as he was ready to carry his bags downstairs. The portable was on the nightstand. “Hello.”

“Dr. Mercer? This is Chief MacLaughlin in Homer. I have a message here that you’ve been trying to reach me.”

“Thanks for returning the call. I have a suspicion that I’d like you to check for me. It’s connected to the deaths of Jerry and John Small.”

“I’m afraid that’ll have to wait, Dr. Mercer. We had a murder here last night that’s got the whole town real jumpy.”

“A murder? What happened?”

“A fishing boat was found beached about a mile south of town. The owner was discovered in a forward cabin, his throat slit. Pretty gruesome stuff, if you know what I mean.”

“Was it a local boat?” Mercer felt hair rising on the back of his neck.

“Yeah, she was kept at the marina. The owner was born and raised right here in Homer.”

“What kind of boat was it?”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Mercer, but I really don’t have time for this right now.” There was a weariness to MacLaughlin’s voice, like he’d seen and done too much in the past couple of days.

Mercer sympathized, but he persisted. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

“She wasn’t a commercial vessel but a good-sized charter boat. In fact, she’s the largest in town. Can handle a twenty-person charter, she can.”

“Chief, would the victim have known the Loran coordinates where the Coast Guard sank the hull of the Jenny IV ?”

“Sure. The Coasties make them available so the chartermen can use them when they turn into reefs after a few years.”

“You’ve got to send someone out to drag the bottom and make sure that the hulk is still there.” Mercer already guessed it wasn’t, but he had to make sure.

MacLaughlin bristled at Mercer’s demanding tone. “Now just a damn minute. I appreciate your cooperation concerning the Smalls, but I’ve got an important investigation and don’t have time for this.”

Mercer relaxed his tone. “I’m sorry, but if my suspicions are correct, you’ll find the boat’s owner was killed last night after being forced to use his boat to haul the Jenny IV away from where the Coast Guard deep-sixed her. There was something on the wreck that no one noticed, some piece of evidence that wasn’t supposed to be found, ever. The same men who killed Jerry and John Small as well as their cousin, Howard, undoubtedly committed this latest murder too.”