Stuart Woods - Choke

“And from the island, where?”

“I cruised around on the little boat that Clare used today-until we got this boat, which used to be Fugitive, out of Key West and to a little boatyard up the Keys, where we changed her name and made a few superficial alterations that would differentiate her from her old self. The three young men you encountered in the marina were not a delivery crew; they were shipwrights. They’re down in the wreck now, for some diver to find someday.”

Victor came back on board. “There’s about half a gallon a minute leaking into their bilges now,” he said. “I didn’t want to make it too big, in case anybody ever inspects the wreck. There’ll be enough for a big explosion in a few minutes.” He didn’t look happy about it.

“I get the picture,” Tommy said. “You take us out, put us aboard Choke, and then there’s a terrible accident?”

“You’re very quick, Tommy. We’re pretty far out from Key West, and I doubt if anyone will even see the explosion. If they do, then by the time they reach the site, the boat will have burned to the waterline and sunk. Those old wooden boats burn quickly. By that time, we’ll be thirty, forty miles south of here, headed for the Caymans, the other side of Cuba.”

“I see,” Tommy said. “Let’s get back to your mistakes, Harry. You asked me if you made any more.”

“By all means,” Harry said. “I want to hear this.”

“It’s kind of a daisy chain of mistakes,” Tommy said. “You trusted Clare, Clare trusted Victor, Victor trusted Clare.”

“What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you wondered how your mob friends found Clare?”

Harry frowned. “It was that detective, Carman.”

“Yeah, but Carman was tipped. Clare tipped him.”

Harry glanced at Clare. “Substantiate that.”

“Carman told me he got a telephone call from what sounded like a young woman. Who but Clare? Who else knew?”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Tommy; if they’d found me they would have found her.”

Tommy was shaking his head. “The tip was before you faked your death. Clare was depending on your mob buddies to take you out so she’d be free to disappear with the money, but you solved her problem with your plan to die. She did know where the money was, didn’t she, Harry?”

Harry looked appraisingly at Clare. “You have a rebuttal, sweetheart?”

“He’s crazy, Harry. I want to be with you; you know that.”

Tommy turned to Clare. “I’ll bet that’s not what you told Victor.” He turned to the tennis pro. “By the way, Victor, Harry and Clare have brand-new passports and ID. Do you have a brand-new passport?”

Victor looked at Clare. “No,” he said quietly.

“Victor, I have another question for you; when did you find out that Harry was alive?”

“The day before yesterday,” Victor said.

“Must have come as quite a shock,” Tommy said. “And Harry, you’ve known about Victor all along, right?”

“Oh, yes.” He looked thoughtful. “Well, nearly all along.”

“Ahh,” Tommy said, looking thoughtful, “so Clare has lied to both of you. You know, it strikes me that as soon as Chuck, Meg, Daryl, and I are out of the picture, somebody else is going to go.” He turned to Clare. “Tell me, have you figured out which one is next? I mean, you need one of them to get out of here in this boat, but not both. Three’s kind of a crowd, isn’t it? And I doubt if two would be company for very long.”

Harry turned toward Clare. “My dear, would you like to respond to that?”

“No,” she said, getting to her feet, “I don’t think I would.” She started across the saloon toward her purse, next to the stereo. “What I’d like is some aspirin.” She reached into the handbag.

Suddenly, there were guns everywhere. Clare’s hand came out of the purse with an automatic in it, Victor clawed at his belt, where Tommy’s and Daryl’s guns were, and Harry had to make a choice.

Harry and Clare fired simultaneously; Harry staggered backward into the cockpit as Clare received a load of birdshot in the face and went down. Victor didn’t seem to know what to do, and while he was thinking about it, Chuck used the moment to swing a bottle of rum at the back of his head.

Then it was very quiet. No one moved. Except Clare.

Bleeding, blinded, she raised herself on one elbow and began firing wildly. She got off half a clip before Chuck’s dive ended on top of her. By the time he twisted the pistol from her grip, she had died.

“Daryl,” Tommy said, getting up, “check on Harry, and be careful.” He produced a pair of handcuffs and snapped them onto Victor’s wrists. “Chuck, you go and stop the gas leak on your boat and pump out the bilges.”

“Good idea.”

“Meg, please find a bar towel and apply it to Victor’s head. We don’t want him to bleed to death before we get him back to Key West; he’ll be useful in explaining what happened here.”

Daryl came in from the cockpit. “Harry’s bought it. Clare was a good shot with a handgun, wasn’t she?”

“She was some piece of work,” Tommy said. He walked behind the bar and started looking at bottles. “I believe I need a drink,” he said. “Will anybody join me?”

While Daryl applied first aid to Victor’s scalp in the saloon, Tommy, Chuck, and Meg sat in the cockpit of the big yacht, sipping rum and tonic and watching the Coast Guard cutter coming toward them.

“Tommy,” Chuck said, “you know what surprises me most in all this? Victor. I wouldn’t have believed him capable of any of this.”

“Victor’s a sociopath,” Tommy said. “He’s a charmer, but he’s one of those people who is completely without a conscience. I think Clare must have seen that in him. Remember, she dangled the bait in front of you, briefly, but you didn’t take it. That’s when she picked Victor. She knew the difference between the two of you.”

Chuck shrugged. “If it hadn’t been for you, Tommy, her plan would have worked. I’d have been a goner.”

“Chuck,” Tommy said, “if it hadn’t been for you tonight, we’d all have been goners; Victor wouldn’t have left anybody alive. You should always remember: When the pressure was on, when you had to come through, you didn’t choke.”

The three of them finished their drinks and got up to meet the Coast Guard.

February 20, 1995

Key West, Florida

Author’s Note

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