Randy White - Black Widow

I had twenty-six more bricks of cash in my pack. Norma could never return to Saint Arc, and she would need money. Corey’s family deserved an extra cut, too.

Before zipping the bag closed, I opened the steel drawer and added the Midnight Star.

Expenses.

I asked the Englishman, “Do we use the tunnel, or is it safe to go through the house?” I felt an overwhelming sense of dread. We had to get to the beach house. We had to find Shay and Beryl.

Applying pressure to his bloody hand, Montbard said, “We’ll use the front door, of course. But try to ignore the mess.”

I was at the wheel of the van, accelerating, but backed off the pedal after only a couple of seconds. It was an older three-speed Dodge, gearshift on the column, brakes soft, shocks spongy, headlights misaligned. The road down the mountain was one lane, rock and gravel. Lots of switchbacks and unmarked curves on this black and cloudless night. Any faster, I’d overrun my headlights.

Norma was beside me. Montbard was on the bench seat behind us. He’d spent a couple of minutes on the little VHF radio, trying to raise the Saint Lucien marine patrol or a friendly vessel. But there was no reception because of the forest, so now he concentrated on stopping the bleeding. The bite was worse than he’d let on. The dog had ripped cordage away on the underside of his wrist and taken part of his ring finger. Gruesome to look at. The man remained stoic, though, even cheerful, but I knew he was in pain. He would need surgery.

I accelerated through a curve, then downshifted when I saw a security gate ahead-two men in uniforms visible inside the lighted guardhouse. I looked at Norma.

“Keep going, but not too fast. They don’t stop people leaving, just people coming in.”

I said, “You’re sure?” One of the men had stepped out of the gatehouse, hand on his pistol.

Behind me, Sir James coughed, then laughed. “Better late than never!” I didn’t understand what he meant until I looked in the side mirror and saw a dazzling snow cone of red brighten the night sky. It burst into a multicolored shower of light. A second later, a thunderous boom shook the van. A blue starburst followed, then a high, arching fountain of orange streamers.

“Fireworks,” Norma said, perplexed. “Why are they shooting off fireworks? I don’t think it’s a holiday.”

The guards must have been wondering the same thing. They barely glanced at me as I slowed and waved, using my hand to shield my face. Then I accelerated, eyes on the mirror, watching the two men stand childlike, faces turned upward at a rain-forest sky that boiled with color.

Montbard was still laughing, but his laughter had the detached flavor of shock. I said, “How are you doing back there?”

“Bloody fucking lovely,” the man said, teeth clenched. “By God, our Chinese brothers deserve full marks for inventing fireworks. I do love the smell of cordite. And the white phosphorous glow of an incendiary-even these weak things-it leaves a smile on my face. Damn nice show I’m putting on. Too bad we’ll miss it.”

I said, “You hang on, Hooker,” as Norma said, “Your fireworks? They’re beautiful,” sounding like a nurse comforting a patient. She was turned in her seat, looking toward the back window, but not because of the fireworks. She was concerned about Montbard. “Don’t you worry. We’ll be able to see them from the beach. I bet people at the resort are out right now, watching.” When she added, “Ohhh… that was a nice one,” I checked the mirror: a blue velvet starburst with silver sparklers. The Midnight Star floated into my mind.

“Ford, old man, will you promise me something? If we get to the beach house and find our girls hurt, I’d like you to promise you’ll boot me down all three hundred and eighty-one steps at Bluestone. Would you mind?”

“With pleasure,” I said.

Norma told him, “He’s not going to touch you as long as I’m around,” then slipped into the backseat, saying she thought there might be towels in the rear of the van. Montbard was suddenly concerned.

“My bag’s back there, dear lady. Do be careful, won’t you?”

I heard the woman grunt. “That must be what’s sitting on the towels. I’ll try, but it’s heavy… what in the world’s in here?” But then she said, “Got them,” and pivoted back to her seat with a stack of towels. In the rearview mirror, I watched her pull the bloody handkerchief away from Montbard’s hand.

“Marion? Is there a light or something?”

I kept my eyes on the road as I fished the little Triad flashlight from my pocket and handed it to her.

After several seconds, Norma said, “This is bad. This is real bad. We’ve got to get him to the clinic and fetch the doctor. The clinic’s not far from the rental-”

“No doctor, and no clinic,” Montbard interrupted. “Not on this island. We just robbed the most powerful woman around. It would be unwise to linger.”

“Mister, I don’t want to scare you, but I’ve dealt with the kind of wound you’ve got. You could lose this hand. And you’ve already lost a lot of blood.”

“Then I’ll lose my hand,” he said. “Rather that than the local jail.”

“Is dying better than jail? Because that’s what might happen, the way you’re bleeding. Marion-he’s white as a ghost. The clinic’s only two miles at the most-”

“No doctors. Sorry. I’ll not discuss it anymore.”

The woman made a grumbling sound of frustration and slapped the seat. She was done with crying now, getting angry. “Those damn dogs! Why are you men always so stubborn about getting help? They got teeth as dirty as snakes, but you don’t care.”

Puzzled, Montbard said, “You work at the place. What do you have against the dogs? Brazilian mastiffs-only doing their jobs, dear.”

I said, “Hooker, she has her reasons. Okay?”

“Don’t be sharp with him, Marion. There’s no way he could know. It was almost thirteen years ago my man came crawling into the village, so torn up by those dogs he wanted to die. He would’ve rather died than live like he did. And I have more reasons than that to hate them. I wish you’d killed them all.”

I took a chance and said, “I think Sir James knew your husband, Norma. You told me he was a good man, Hooker.”

Montbard was confused, but said, “You lost your husband recently, dear? I’m so sorry.”

“Two days ago, he finally left us. But he was never really a man again because of those dogs. He was a proud one, Paul senior. Wouldn’t let me be his wife after what happened. Didn’t want our son to know his father was begging for coins on the street, either. After that night, we were never a family again.”

Montbard’s brain was still working fine. “Ahhh,” he said gently. “I did know your husband, Norma. A good chap, he was. I’m truly sorry. It’s an honor to meet his widow.”

AT FIRST, I wasn’t worried about taking Ritchie and Clovis, or anyone else, by surprise. I had the brights on, the pedal to the floor, as I fishtailed down the lane to the beach house. The sweep of headlights showed the rain-forest bluff where the camera blind was located… showed coconut palms leaning incrementally toward a black, vacuous space that was the sea… showed the outbuilding where I’d jumped the guys two nights before.

But then I thought, why make it obvious? If the men were inside, they might panic. Could make a bad situation worse. So I switched off the lights, killed the engine, and used the clutch to coast the last seventy yards down the incline. I swung in behind a good-sized citrus tree loaded with Key limes, and handed Norma the keys.

“I’ll be back as quick as I can. Keep the doors locked. Watch for my flashlight. Sir James knows the signals, but use your own judgment. If you think you should run, run. Don’t worry about me. My boat’s not far from here.”