Dark Passage (27 page)

Channing, still dressed in his performing attire, smiling broadly, was striding down the aisle in our direction. Why, I had no idea. Was he trying to intimidate Julie?

‘Brazen bastard,' David snarled. ‘It's an issue of control with these sons of bitches. He probably thinks he's got Julie under his spell.'

But Julie didn't wait around to be charmed or intimidated. With the aisle blocked by Channing's advancing figure, she vaulted onto the stage and scurried off into the wings.

The instant Julie fled, Channing's smile vanished and he took off after her. David and I were unimportant, invisible.

‘Tom, stop!' I yelled. ‘What do you think you're doing?'

If I hurried, I thought I could intersect Channing before he got to the stairs that would take him up onto the stage. No way was I going to let him get to Julie.

Thanks to an Olympic-worthy sprint at my end, we reached the stairs at the same time. I threw myself at his legs, and succeeded in grabbing one ankle. He turned and shook his leg free, as if I were a pesky lap dog.

I'd never played football – my sport was archery – not that either skill would have done me much good at the time as I was flat out on the floor, grimacing in pain.

Channing strode purposefully across the stage. By now I was convinced that the man had become seriously unhinged, although, thinking about it as I lay there trying to catch my breath, he had obviously been twisted for some time. But what could he possibly hope to gain by harming Julie in front of me and all these witnesses?

‘Call Security!' I yelled to David Warren. ‘Tom's flipped out!'

I got to my knees, scrambled to my feet, and charged after him. Channing had reached the wings and as I ran, gasping, I watched him draw the curtain aside.

‘I know you're in here, you little bitch!' he rasped, his voice frosty, cruel. Something fell over with a metallic crash, like cymbals. The Chinese rings, I thought. He'd run into the prop table.

When I erupted through the curtain, Channing had sent the Indian Sword Basket flying off its base and turned his attention to the Vanishing Cabinet. He grasped the handles and threw open the doors, then peered inside.

‘God dammit! Where have you got to? You can't hide from me, you little slut!' Channing had totally lost the plot. He extended a long arm into the cabinet just as I caught up with him.

‘Security's on the way!' I screamed, pounding with my fists on the man's back. ‘Get out of here and leave my niece alone!'

I thought I might have gotten through because Channing did an about-face, shoved me roughly aside and went out the way he had come. But where was Julie?

The doors to the Vanishing Cabinet stood wide open. I peeked inside. Empty. Or was it? I didn't have time to figure out how the illusion worked. I rapped on the open door. ‘Julie, if you're in there somewhere, knock and let me know.'

Tap-tap-tap.
Faint, but clear.

Thank God, I thought.

‘Stay there!' I ordered. ‘I'll be back for you. And don't come out until I do!'

I spun on my heel to take up the chase, then stopped short. A large hand was pulling the curtain aside. Shit! Had Channing doubled back?

‘David!' I cried when I saw the man's face. ‘God, you scared me! Thank heaven's you're here. Did you call Security?'

He ignored my question. ‘Where's Channing?' he said darkly.

‘He went that way,' I said, flapping my hand rapidly. ‘I don't know how you missed him.'

David gazed past me, to the ruin that had been Channing's props. He kicked at one of the Chinese rings, sending it rolling across the floor. With the toe of his shoe, he lifted the Indian Sword Basket and let it fall. He stooped, picked up one of the sabres, licked his thumb and used it to test the sharpness of the blade.

‘They're not trick swords,' I told him. ‘Be careful or you'll cut yourself.'

Empty-eyed, moving with the rigid determination of a cemetery ghoul in
Night of the Living Dead
, David turned, almost trance-like, and pushed aside the curtain.

I doubt he even heard me.

‘Another issue is the cost borne by U.S. taxpayers when the U.S. Coast Guard is enlisted to search for a missing passenger. This expense is not trivial. In just one case
…
the total cost incurred during the search was estimated by the Coast Guard to be $813,807.'

Testimony of Ross A. Klein, PhD before the Senate
Committee on Commerce, Science, and
Transportation, March 1, 2012

R
aising the sabre high over his head, David charged through the curtain, screaming like a Rough Rider at the attack on San Juan Hill.

‘What the hell are you doing?' I yelled, running after him.

With energy I didn't suspect he had, David sprinted down the aisle, almost catching up with Channing at the theater doors. Amazingly, the few people left standing in the aisle did nothing to stop them; they simply gave way and moved aside, widening the path. With Channing still in costume, and David waving a sabre, they may well have thought it was an impromptu encore.

David followed Channing out onto the deck, into the cool, breezy air with me pounding along after him. Channing looked right, left, then headed for the stern. A poor choice, as it turned out, as he drew up short at a high, steel mesh-covered fence designed to keep passengers, according to the sign, away from a crew-only area.

Channing tried the door, rattled the lock then looked back, his face deceptively calm, to see David gaining on him, brandishing the sabre. Quick as a wink, Channing produced his staff ID, swiped it through the electronic lock and threw open the door. Channing braced his palm against the mesh, trying to shut the door firmly behind him, but he was too late. David straight-armed the door, slamming it into Channing's startled face.

Blood began to gush, running dark and wet down Channing's upper lip. He swiped his hand across his mouth, studied it in the semi-darkness, stumbled, and fell to his knees.

The door clanged shut, the lock engaged.

On the other side of the mesh, David had Channing cornered at the end of a long, narrow balcony. Here and there dark shapes, which I took to be nautical equipment, were shrouded in canvas. A few sturdy plastic chairs sat jumbled together in an alcove.

‘What the
hell
is going on?' I didn't realize Pia had come up behind me until she spoke.

‘We have to stop David, or he's going to kill Tom!' I shouted.

‘But why?' Pia cried. ‘What did Tom ever do to him?'

I grabbed the handle of the door and jiggled it up and down, but it wouldn't open. ‘What's out there?'

‘It's the crew's equipment area,' Pia said breathlessly. ‘They sit out there sometimes, smoke and stuff.'

‘The door's locked! Can you scan your ID and open it up?'

Pia's hands flew to her chest, patted the pockets of her white cotton camp shirt. ‘I can't, Hannah,' she cried, ‘I must have left it in the dressing room!'

‘David!' I yelled, banging on the grill with my fists. ‘Put down the sword! He's not worth it!'

With his free hand, David grabbed one of the chairs, shook it free from the others, and tossed it after Channing. It slid into him where he lay sprawled next to the rail. ‘Stand up!' he ordered.

Channing's mouth gaped. He didn't move.

David took a step closer, brandishing the sabre. ‘You don't listen very well. Stand up, I said!'

Channing worked his way into a crawling position, then slowly rose to his feet. He shook his head as if to clear it, then said, ‘You're out of your mind, you know that?' His voice shook. Even in the dim light, I could see sweat glistening on the man's brow.

‘Now, stand up on it,' David ordered.

‘What?'

‘Stand up on the goddamn chair!'

When Channing didn't move, the sabre flashed, connecting with Channing's leg.

‘Up!' David yelled.

‘I can't!' Channing screamed, clutching the gash in his leg as if trying to hold the wound together. Blood drained slowly from it, pooling on the floor next to his foot.

Pia grabbed my arm and tugged. ‘What's wrong with David? Is he drunk?'

‘We just found out that Tom is the person who attacked Julie, so he's probably the guy who murdered Charlotte, too.'

‘Tom? No way! You're both crazy if you think that.'

I covered Pia's hand where it rested on my arm and squeezed. ‘There's a witness,' I told her gently.

‘God, no!'

‘David!' I yelled, trying to be heard over the howling of the wind. ‘Put the sabre down!'

He ignored me. ‘You have a decision to make, Channing. You can get up on the chair, or I can take this sabre and run you through. You choose.'

Holding on to the back of the chair for support, Channing slowly, painfully eased his wounded leg up on the chair. A few agonizing seconds later, he was standing unsteadily on the seat. His fine, silver hair whipped wildly around his forehead.

What was keeping Security?

Suddenly it hit me. David had never placed the call. ‘Pia!' I whispered. ‘Call Security! I'll see if I can talk some sense into David.'

On the other side of the barrier, David stood ramrod straight, legs slightly spread, sword tip pointed down in order arms position. ‘So, Channing. How are you enjoying the evening so far?'

‘I don't even know who in fucking hell you are!' Channing shouted into the wind.

David said, deadly calm, ‘I had a beautiful daughter once, Channing. Her name was Charlotte.'

Channing swayed as if slapped, but recovered quickly. ‘I don't know who the hell you're talking about.'

‘Let me refresh your memory, then,' David snarled. He raised the sabre, rested the point against Channing's chest. ‘Careful, careful,' he warned. ‘Don't lean forward or you might get hurt!'

‘You are out of your fucking mind!'

‘Phoenix
Voyager
,' David continued, ignoring the interruption. ‘A young girl named Noelle. Do you even remember her name? Maybe she was your first, maybe not. But my daughter was a smart girl, Channing. She worked with the kids. She had sharp eyes, and she noticed something. What was it? Did she see you slip the drug into Noelle's drink?'

David slid the point of the sabre slowly up Channing's chest until it was resting slightly above his breastbone. ‘You murdered my daughter, you worthless piece of shit.'

Channing's eyes didn't stray from the hand that held the sabre. A look of desperation clouded his eyes. ‘What do you want from me?'

‘I want a confession, that's what I want.'

Channing raised both hands in a sign of surrender. ‘OK, OK. Whatever you say. I admit it. I killed your daughter. There, I said it. Is that enough?'

‘And? Come on, Channing. You can do better than that.
And?
'

‘I pushed her overboard, OK? She was going to ruin everything. She was going to turn me in, ruin my career, and that would …' He paused and winced as the tip of the sabre bit into his neck.

‘They say confession is good for the soul, Channing. Tell me, now. What had Charlotte found out?'

‘You know exactly what, you maniac. I know you're working with
her
,' he snarled, glancing in my direction, ‘and I overheard her talking with Pia.'

‘Say it! Say it out loud. You like sex with little girls. With children, you piece of slime. Children you have to drug until they're too helpless to resist.'

Channing stammered; in that moment, he looked truly defeated. ‘You don't understand … nobody does.'

‘Oh, boo hoo,' David snapped. ‘You're breaking my heart here.'

‘Put down the sword, please,' Channing begged, changing tactics. ‘I'll do whatever you say. Write a confession, sign it. Whatever. Just put down that sword.'

‘No need for that,' David snapped. ‘We're not quite finished here, are we? Tell me about Julie Cardinale.'

Channing's head swiveled in my direction. ‘I didn't hurt Julie, Hannah, I swear. And I didn't know …'

‘Bullshit!' I couldn't help myself. ‘Julie may be scarred for life, not that you gave that possibility a moment's thought!'

‘I didn't …' Channing stammered.

‘But you
would
have, you worm,' I shouted through the mesh that separated us, ‘if somebody hadn't knocked on the door.'

Chandler's chin dropped, and I knew I'd hit the nail on the head.

‘So, now that's settled,' David said, ‘I think it's time for a good, old-fashioned nautical tradition.'

Chandler's head shot up. ‘What are you talking about?'

‘I think it's time for you to walk the plank.'

‘Plank? What plank?'

‘Figuratively speaking, of course. When in doubt, improvise. The chair will do nicely, I think.'

‘David!' I shouted, looking desperately around me, wishing that Ben Martin or his officers would hurry up before things got even more out of control. ‘Stop it! Stop!' I saw a life ring hanging on a railing nearby, lifted it off its hook and held on, praying that it wouldn't be needed.

‘Jump,' David said. ‘Jump, you sonofabitch, jump!' David feinted; the sabre flicked again. Channing closed his eyes and sucked in his lips like a stubborn child.

‘'Course, you don't have to jump. I could just run you through and save both of us a lot of time.' The sabre twitched and Channing flinched. ‘But the way
I
look at it, Channing, you'd have a better chance of surviving if you jump. Death by water or by the sword, take your pick.'

Channing's wild eyes caught mine, and he mouthed a silent
Help!

‘Security is on the way!' I shouted, hoping that both men heard me.

David risked a quick glance at me. Was he trying to convey some kind of message? Then, ‘Too little, too late,' he said, before focusing his attention back on Channing.