Ken Douglas - Scorpion

He shuddered. A terrifying thought rippled through him. The plane, the hotel. She hadn’t used a rifle. She had no rifle now. She was standing just outside the park with the Texan, not to shoot but to watch. To watch the blast. It was going to be another bomb.

He turned toward the gazebo on the other side of the crowded park. In a few minutes Ramsingh would take the stage. He wondered if it was set on a timer or if she was here to detonate it via remote control. He looked toward Dani again. She had a clear view of the stage from where she was standing, safely outside the park. She’d be outside the panicked throng. She could just walk away while the crowd fought to get out the gates.

He looked around for a policeman. They were all in the park, surrounding the gazebo. For a second he thought about charging toward Dani, but Ram was going to take the stage shortly. Besides, the Texan could hold him off while she punched the remote. If she had a remote. If the bomb was on a timer there was nothing he could do. But if she was holding her finger over a button there was a chance.

And he took it. Turning away from Dani and the Texan, he charged into the crowd, yelling, “Move aside! Emergency! I’m a doctor! Please, step aside!”

The people at the edges of the crowd parted as he pushed and forced his way through in his mad dash for the stage.

“ Hey, watch it,” a giant of a man yelled when Broxton slammed into his back.

“ I’m a doctor, the prime minister is ill.”

“ I’ll get you there,” the big African Trini yelled back to Broxton. “Get out of the way! Mr. Ramsingh needs his doctor!” The man hurled himself into the crowd, shoulder forward, as if he was blocking for a quarterback.

Broxton kept his head down and his eyes on the broad back as the giant cleared the way, shoving people aside, shouting, “Doctor coming through! Step aside!” Then they were in the center of the crowd, people packed together. He smelled their sweat, felt their anticipation, touched their souls. The parting corridor the big man cut through the throng closed as soon as he’d pushed by. He was but a part of the pack, a single cell in the living, breathing, swaying and crushing crowd.

People started applauding. Something was happening. He couldn’t see.

“ Tammy, Tammy, Tammy,” the crowd chanted, excitement rising.

“ Out of the way,” the big man yelled louder, trying to be heard above the applause.

“ Tammy, Tammy, Tammy,” the crowd shouted as one.

“ Hurry,” Broxton pleaded.

“ Coming through,” the giant shouted, but the closer they got to the gazebo the slower the going. People were jammed together, back to front, shoulder to shoulder, but still the big man grunted, shoved and pushed. “Let the doctor pass,” he wailed, and to their credit, as tightly bunched as they were, people tried to get out of the big man’s way.

“ Ladies and gentlemen,” Tammy Drake’s amplified voice boomed through mammoth speakers, “it’s good to be back. It’s going to be a wonderful evening.” The crowd went wild, yelling, clapping and whooping, drowning out the giant’s voice.

People jumped, some swayed, some danced, some called out, they all clapped. Everybody in Trinidad loved Tammy Drake.

“ Doctor coming through!” The giant pushed into the mass of people, shoving his way to the stage.

“ It’s my great pleasure to bring Ramish Ramsingh up to the podium.”

The crowd was muffled, but there were no catcalls, they remained respectful. Ramsingh wasn’t popular, but the audience wasn’t going to let politics ruin this musical night.

Then they were at the stage.

“ You, stop!” Broxton heard a rough voice scream. The giant dropped his shoulder and Broxton saw four uniformed policemen guarding the steps up the gazebo, all holding truncheons in hand, all raising them to strike. The giant spread his arms and dove into them, grabbing the center two and taking them down. The two on the outside swung their clubs, but the nightsticks hit only air as the big man rolled safely through.

Broxton saw his opportunity and vaulted over the melee, landing on the stage as the prime minister took the podium. He felt a strong hand grab his arm, another wrapped around his neck.

“ Hold,” Ramsingh said.

The policemen relaxed their grips, but still held on to him.

“ It’s all right,” Ramsingh added. “It’s Broxton. He’s in charge of security, remember?”

” Sorry, sir,” one of them said, as they released him. “We didn’t recognize you.”

“ What’s going on?” Ramsingh said. The crowd, sensing something ominous, quieted, all eyes on the stage.

“ Your wife is ill,” Broxton lied. “We have to go.”

“ I’m sorry, ladies and gentlemen. Please forgive me,” Ramsingh said. “I have to leave. I hope you understand.”

Broxton looked across the park as he put his arm around Ramsingh’s shoulder, and he locked onto Dani. She had her armed linked with the big Texan. She was too far for him to see into her eyes, but he knew she was boring into him. The Texan was holding something in his hand and Broxton didn’t think it was a Sony Walkman. He shivered, wondering if she would let him push the button.

“ Is she all right?” Ramsingh asked, breaking Broxton’s concentration.

“ We have to go,” Broxton said.

“ All right,” Ramsingh said as Broxton, turning, pulled the prime minister toward the back of the stage and down the back steps of the gazebo. Cool sweat dripped from under his arms and his neck hairs were prickling. Any second it could all be over. All she had to do was give the word and the podium, the stage, the gazebo, and several people would vaporize. He knew the truth of the thought as surely as he knew his own name.

“ Yacht Club, Yachting Association, Drake’s,” the youth shouted at Dani. The sun was still up, it was still hot. She wiped sweat off the back of her neck with her left hand as she signaled the young man with her right. “Yacht Club?” he yelled at her.

“ Drake’s,” she yelled back to him.”

“ This is crazy,” Earl said as she took his elbow and motioned for him to cross the street. The large green building on the corner across from the Globe Theater gave the place its name, Green Corner, and Dani was leading Earl to the maxi at the head of the line. There were already four people in it. The driver was waiting for six more.

She passed it and climbed into the van second in line, taking a seat behind the driver. Earl jumped in and moved beside her. She leaned forward and put her mouth next to the driver’s ear as she draped a hand over his shoulder. “Go now,” she said, “and don’t pick up anyone on the way.”

The driver, a thin Rasta man with dreadlocks past his shoulder, snatched the blue hundred from her hand. “We’re gone,” he said, and Earl slid the door closed as the van shot away from the curb, barely missing the maxi in front.

“ Want a fast trip?” the driver asked. Earl recognized the Texas accent as he moved to the seat in back.

“ Fast as you can and still get us there alive,” Dani said, getting up and moving to the back with Earl.

“ Fucking crazy,” Earl whispered to her. “We’re making our getaway on a bus.”

“ It’s Dani Street,” Broxton told Ramsingh as they made their way out of the park.

“ What?”

“ She’s the one behind the attempts to kill you. It explains why they wouldn’t kill me. She doesn’t want me hurt. And right now, I think she’s headed toward the ambassador’s yacht. She’s supposed to be taking it up island.”

“ What are you going to do?”

“ Go after her.”

“ I’m going too,” Ramsingh said. Then he motioned to a young policeman standing next to a blue and white police car. “I’ll be taking the car, Gary.”