F Wilson - The Dark at the End

“Six o’clock tomorrow night,” Jack said. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure that is what Georges told the Council. Whether or not it will change, I have no idea.”

“All right. Thanks.”

And then he was gone. Ernst laid his phone on the table.

Thanks…

No… thank you… if you succeed.

Would Jack make his move tomorrow? He seemed impatient to have this done with, but he also seemed very cautious… a careful planner.

But even the most carefully laid plan could go awry, usually because of the simplest little thing. Some unpredictable mishap, some unforeseeable variable completely outside the plan could change everything.

If Jack succeeded, excellent. If he failed, Ernst would stand ready to assist the One in any way humanly possible.

Yes, though he foresaw little chance of success, from the depths of his heart Ernst wished Jack luck. The best of luck. Eliminating the One would save the entire world from a terrible fate.

But most important, it would save Ernst Drexler.

Jack pocketed his phone.

Tomorrow at six…

That didn’t leave much time. He had the huge trunk of his Crown Vic stocked with the special ammo Abe had supplied, but it was garaged a couple of hours away in the city. He needed to get back to Manhattan, and hoped Abe had acquired the final items on his shopping list.

Dawn’s Volvo sat in the O’Donnells’ garage and would stay there. Weezy had hidden the rented SUV off road in the trees down by the highway and driven in with Dawn. Round trip from way out here to the city this time of year took about four hours. On a crowded summer weekend it could take that long just one way. Weezy could drive him in and head right back, but that would mean leaving Dawn out here alone for four hours. Not a good idea.

Then he remembered: The Hampton Jitney ran between Montauk and the city. Probably a limited schedule this time of year, but he could hop one of those early tomorrow morning and make it to the city without leaving Dawn unattended.

He took the steps to the second floor two at a time and slipped into the darkened front bedroom. Two figures sat by the window, silhouetted against the glow from the streetlight outside. Dawn stared out at the night, Jack’s Leica Ultravid binocs pressed to her eyes. Weezy turned at his entrance.

“The lights are going out over there,” she said. “Looks like they’re calling it a night.”

“Are you sure you didn’t see my baby?” Dawn said, still peering.

“I’ve a pretty good idea what a baby looks like, and I didn’t see one.”

But I’m pretty sure I heard one.

He’d told her about seeing Gilda but hadn’t mentioned the bassinet or the screech. He wasn’t sure of the best way to play this, but that seemed like the way to go. The screech might get her all upset, thinking the baby was in distress or being mistreated, making her a wilder card than she already was.

She lowered the Leica. “Damn.”

“Hey, Dawn, it’s late,” he said. “Only the great room was lit. The baby was probably asleep in one of the dark rooms. Add Gilda’s presence to the doctor’s visit and it’s almost a sure thing he’s there.”

“I hope so.”

Weezy looked at him. “Just as you’re almost sure Ra-” She cleared her throat. “Mister Osala is not?”

He glanced at her. She’d almost slipped there. Dawn knew nothing of Rasalom.

“I just got it on good authority that he’ll be returning tomorrow night.”

“Excellent,” Weezy said. “Then all the pieces will be in place and we can start to plan our moves.”

Jack already had a plan forming. If it worked out, Rasalom would never reach the house.

Weezy was rubbing Dawn’s shoulder. “Won’t be long now, Dawn.”

Jack took the glasses and checked out the mansion. All dark now. Early to bed and early to rise?

He focused on the window to the baby’s room, remembering those two points of light in the crib. Could it have been standing at two weeks old?

He’d promised Dawn he’d help her get her baby back, but what exactly would she be getting? She’d had only a glimpse of the child right after delivery. Would she still want it when she saw it close up in the light of day?

The memory of its screech still rattled him.

Weezy guessed this was what cops called a stakeout. How did they stand it? Boredom had her ready to scream.

She was sick of watching that place on the far side of Dune Drive but they had to track anyone coming or going-especially Rasalom or the baby. Rasalom-had to remember to call him Osala when Dawn was around-wasn’t due in till tonight, and she hardly expected to see the driver or the housekeeper taking the baby for a walk in a stroller. Not in this wind and cold.

Still…

She trained Jack’s Leica on the place anyway. She didn’t know what these binoculars cost, but knew they were pricey. Worth it, though. She felt she knew every cedar shake on the house’s siding, every shingle on its hipped roof. Even found a few that needed replacing.

After checking all the windows, she aimed the binocs at the yard. This window in the O’Donnell house offered a view of the west and south sides of the place, plus some of the bulkheaded yard along the bay. With a waterfront house, which was the front yard-water side or street side?

She tracked right to the bulkheaded lagoon that ran along the far side of the house. The cabin cruiser bobbed in the water, moored to the pilings of the small planked dock.

Farther right she came to the detached garage that sat at the end of the lagoon. Its siding and roof were identical to the house. Weezy hadn’t looked, but assumed Rasalom’s Mercedes rested within.

She angled her view up and left to the stormy water beyond the house. Out there among the whitecaps, maybe three miles off shore, sat Gardiner’s Island-privately owned and big enough to have its own airstrip.

Lots of money out here. Some of it old, some of it new. But if Rasalom had his way, none of it would be of any use, no matter what the amount.

She lowered the glasses and stared at the gray clouds flowing over the bay. Comin’ up a storm, as they said down south. Indeed it was. And that was where the nor’easter lay-to the south.

She glanced over at the bedroom’s fourteen-inch TV where the Weather Channel’s reporters were salivating over the storm roiling up the coast. D.C. and Baltimore were getting snowed in; Delaware, Jersey, and New York were next in line.

She hoped Jack got back before it hit too hard.

They’d left Dawn asleep in the downstairs bedroom and walked to where Weezy had parked the SUV. The short drive into Amagansett gave them a chance to talk. While they waited by the school for the jitney to show, Jack had told her about his conversation with Drexler.

“Can you trust him?” she’d asked.

Jack had shrugged. “As long as our agendas overlap, maybe. My agenda is stopping the One. Drexler’s only agenda, now and forever, is Ernst Drexler. At the moment, stopping the One seems good for Drexler. He told me about the Nuckateague house, which we already knew to be true, so I think I can believe that Georges is scheduled to pick up the One at JFK tonight.”

“‘The One’… I thought we were going to use his name-not around Dawn, of course, but between us.”

“That’s okay back at Glaeken’s place, but I’d like to avoid it out here. Even if he’s no longer paying attention, he might still be aware of it. I don’t want him to have the vaguest hint of what I’m planning.”

“But what is the plan? Dawn’s going to be asking me.”

“It’s still forming, but I can tell you I’m going to do my damnedest to hit him before he reaches the house. He’ll be much harder to take down once he’s inside. Plus, making a move on him in the house could endanger the baby. I promised Dawn I’d get her baby back, and that sort of implies alive and well.”