Dead Asleep (29 page)

Chapter 52

E
mma rooted around in the shed, looking for work gloves. She found some in a basket near the garden supplies and handed a set to Carrow, keeping another pair for herself. On a far shelf she saw a row of cans and boxes containing herbicides, fertilizers, charcoal lighter fluid, and paint thinner. She grabbed the lighter fluid and doused the burlap-bag-covered bundles with it. Each bundle, secured with a rope, contained about four pieces of wood. When she was finished she looked for a wheelbarrow and found one in a corner.

“Should we load them up in that and haul them to the house?” she said. “That way we'll be able to make one trip rather than many and reduce the chances of someone spotting us.”

Carrow shook his head. “The wheel will get bogged down in the mud. We should just carry as much as possible.”

Emma saw his point. “Okay, but be very careful. One touch and you'll regret it.” She was already regretting exposing her arms to the acid. Both of them burned from the elbow down. Every movement of her arms brought them in contact with the sleeves of the coat, which only increased the agony. “And here.” She handed him a hatchet from the tools hanging on a pegboard. “Cut them into smaller sections. It will make them easier to carry.”

Carrow took the hatchet and started hacking away at the first bundle, dodging bits of wood as he did. He sliced through the first section and sap started oozing from the cut.

“Don't touch that. It's pure acid,” Emma said. She grabbed a bucket and dumped the cut pieces into it. “This way we can collect it in one place.”

Carrow nodded and continued hacking. While he did, she peered out of the door at the villa.

The rain had reduced the lawn to large puddles of standing water, and lightning still cracked overhead. The palm trees bent with the force of the wind. From the right she saw the lumbering form of the deliveryman. Emma watched him slog through the muddy lawn and enter through a side door. Through it all the lights of the library glowed.

“We need to lure them outside. I don't want to confront them in the house,” she said. Carrow stopped hacking at the wood.

“Perhaps it's just safer to notify the authorities off island.”

Emma nodded. “I thought that's what I'd do, but I hate the idea of them getting away. His boat is right there. Once this storm lessens they'll all be long gone.”

“I hate that idea, too. They should all have to ride in a trunk with a dead body, just like I did.”

Emma glanced at Carrow. His mouth was set and he frowned at the bundle of wood that he'd been attacking with the ax. His face was grim. She couldn't help thinking that he'd be forever altered by the events of these past few days. The happy-go-lucky rock star was gone, replaced with a man bent on revenge, or perhaps justice, though the two seemed the same at the moment. She looked at the house and plotted.

“We need to smoke them out,” she said.

Carrow stopped hacking at a bundle, looked up and smiled.

“Perfect.”

“Molotov cocktails,” Emma said. “Acid-drenched Molotov cocktails.”

Carrow held up a small brick of wood. “Like this.”

Emma nodded and returned her attention to the house.

“We'll run along the tree line to the center of the villa. There are at least ten windows. Two large bays on either end of the crescent, three French doors with sidelights on either end, and five windows interspersed between. I think the second window on the far side, just before the bay, is at the end of a hallway. We're going to head there, break down the glass, light the wood and throw it in. Then I'm going to keep a couple of bricks for the far bay.”

Carrow was busy arranging the pieces of wood in stacks in order to make it easier to carry. He had laid a large plastic lawn and leaf garbage bag down first.

“What's in the far bay?” he asked.

“The library. He's in there.” She watched Carrow wrap the garbage bag around the bricks. “That's a good idea.”

She did the same with her bundle and put as many pieces into the bucket. When they were done she opened the side door, shoved her gun back in her pocket, and looked at Carrow. He'd taken another plastic bag, ripped a hole in the top, put the entire thing over him and was working on ripping two holes in front for his arms. She did the same, but didn't bother with armholes. Instead she simply shoved the plastic over her coat to the shoulders but no lower. She wanted room to maneuver her gun out of her pocket. While Carrow suited up she rooted around in a toolbox for a hammer. She found a ball-peen with a point at one end and slipped it in her free pocket.

“Remember, after we throw the wood, head to the manchineel stand. Run straight through it. There's a path on the other side that goes up the mountain to your villa. Ready?”

He nodded with a gleam of anticipation in his eyes. Emma marveled again at his apparent lack of fear.

“Don't get overconfident,” she warned. “Carl is there and we'll need to cross the lawn quickly. If you see any movement just drop the sack and run. A retreat alive is better than an advance and dead.”

She lifted the bucket with the bricks and slid out the door. The storm still raged, but she felt it less. Or perhaps she was just so wound up that it only appeared that way. She broke out of the shed and began jogging toward the villa across the great expanse of lawn. Water poured down her face and lightning cracked overhead. A bolt snaked to the ground three hundred yards to her right, and she gasped when she felt the air hum with static, as if electrified. She sprinted, feeling the burn in her thighs as the ground sucked at her shoes and once again she struggled to pull each foot out of the muck. Carrow stayed behind her but she could hear him huffing and puffing with the effort of slogging through the mud.

She stepped within ten feet of the first window, breathing heavily. Her pulse raced with the exertion and adrenaline. Somewhere inside the house Carl and a group of arms dealers lurked, along with a cache of weapons.

She removed the hammer from her pocket, swung the ball-peen end and smashed the pane. An earsplitting alarm started and floodlights on high poles placed in various locations on the lawn sprang to life.

“Glass break sensors!” Emma had to yell to be heard over the noise of the storm. She worked at the window, opening a large hole. She threw wood through it, followed it with a second and stepped back. Carrow reached in and flicked on a lighter, touching it to the bricks. They ignited with a whooshing sound.

“Watch out for the smoke,” Emma said to Carrow. She glanced up into the room and saw a large black man, ten feet away, holding an automatic weapon.

She didn't think, only reacted, grabbing at Carrow's tee shirt and hauling him to the side, out of the line of sight through the window. She heard the rattle of the weapon as it fired and saw quick flicks of movement as the bullets whizzed by. Pieces of the window frame exploded, with chips flying outward. When the firing stopped she heard spastic retching from the man inside. The smoke was doing its work.

She picked up the bucket of bricks and ran, Carrow next to her, to the next bay. This time she pressed herself against the wall, taking care not to frame herself in the window in case another attacker was lurking. She straightened her arm, swung the hammer, broke the glass, but instead of placing the brick first before lighting it, she held it out to Carrow. He lit it and the wood ignited with a satisfying whoosh. Emma could feel the heat of the fire penetrate her work glove as she tossed the brick through the broken window.

Noise was everywhere. The villa's alarm shrieked and the wail managed to eclipse even the cacophony from the storm. She heard a man, screaming in pain, though what he was saying was unintelligible. She took a deep breath and ran past the window. In her peripheral vision she had the impression of a man, bent and stumbling as he held his hands to his eyes, but she didn't stay to watch.

Reaching the final bay, she pressed herself against the wall before peering inside. The library was empty.

Not good. After encountering a man in each room so far, she was suspect of this empty space, where a deal was being negotiated just minutes before. She pulled out her weapon and turned to Carrow.

“Stay back,” she said. “I'm going to switch it up this time. Fire into the room first. Then we'll light the brick and toss it.” She swung the hammer in a wide arc. This window smashed and she reached out, aimed her gun inside, and squeezed the trigger. Smoke curled out of the glass and immediately her eyes started burning. “Light it!” Emma said. She heard the brick whoosh to life as Carrow followed her instructions. He stepped past her and lobbed it into the room. Emma stepped into the opening, looking for the bullets that she'd seen resting on the desk. Instead she saw the thin man, aiming a weapon at her. Smoke from an adjacent hallway poured into the room and the man's eyes were streaming with tears.

He began to cough, and the mere act of opening his mouth sent him into a fit as the smoke hit his mucous membranes. He bent forward, hacking and retching and stumbled backward.

Emma didn't stay to watch. She dodged right and began running to the manchineel trees, with Carrow next to her. They were halfway there when another man stumbled outside followed by the two that Emma had encountered. She could hear them moaning in pain from the smoke.

“I'm blind! I'm blind!” one man yelled. Emma didn't look back. From her right she saw Carl holding a gun in one hand and the leashes of two large German shepherds in the other. He raised his weapon and Emma raised hers. She fired and he spun around. He got off a shot that grazed Carrow in the fleshy part of his hand. He grunted but kept running. Emma fired again, and hit Carl in the upper chest. He dropped to his knees and let go of the leashes.

The dogs sprinted toward Emma and Carrow at an angle that would allow them to intersect them before they would be safely within the manchineel forest. Emma ran faster, and Carrow did as well. He raced along beside her, his arms flying. The rain hit Emma's face and she instinctively turned her head. When they were twenty feet from the tree line she saw Carrow pull the garbage bag poncho higher to cover his entire head. Emma did the same with her makeshift poncho, pulling it over her head to her eyebrows.

They were ten feet from the trees when the spray from the rain hit them full in the face. Emma felt the water sluicing down the plastic bag. The first dog's howls turned to shrieks of pain. The second dog dug in and refused to go any closer to the trees.

To Emma it seemed as though her entire world consisted of making it to the poisoned tree line. She plunged into it and kept going. Carrow remained close. She looked back after bursting into the manchineel stand and saw that Carrow was lagging. A bright flash illuminated the sky and she thought it was lightning but saw with horror that it wasn't.

The Russian was standing on the back lawn aiming a rocket-propelled grenade thrower at them. It was as Sumner had predicted. They'd come fully prepared with conventional weapons. The devil wasn't ready to give up his bullets, Emma thought.

Chapter 53

T
he grenade whizzed into the manchineel trees, slicing off branches and sending sprays of bark everywhere before it exploded in the center. Despite being dampened from the rain, two of the trees began to smolder.

“Keep running,” Emma said to Carrow. “That smoke hits us and we'll be blinded.”

Carrow, though, was flagging. He moved but had slowed to a jog and seemed to be going slower every few steps. Emma ran back, wrapped her hand around his bicep and dragged him forward. The wind blew in crazy directions and the smoke wafted toward them. Emma's eyes began to burn and she felt the membranes of her throat begin to swell.

They hit the edge of the stand and she kept hauling him upward on the trail. They passed Rory's body on the side, but Emma barely noticed and thought that Carrow didn't see her at all. They'd reached the poison garden when she heard the second grenade explosion.

“What are they shooting at us?” Carrow asked.

“Rocket-propelled grenades. The basic weapon in every arms dealer's arsenal.”

“Is it that thin bastard?”

“Yes. He's not giving up.”

“How far can they fly?” Carrow was huffing and puffing and could barely get the words out.

“Over nine hundred feet in the hands of an expert. And we have to assume that we're dealing with experts,” Emma said.

“I don't think I can run any faster,” Carrow said.

The trail branched out to the right and Emma took it. It had the advantage of running along the side of the mountain instead of uphill. To her relief, Carrow picked up the pace again once he was no longer climbing. They burst out onto a road.

“Where are we?” Emma asked him. He put his hands on his thighs and bent over, breathing heavily. He pointed down the slope.

“That goes to the airport.”

“Then let's go,” she said.

The downhill run was easier. Emma's eyes continued to burn but her throat hadn't closed yet and she thought perhaps she'd caught a break. Carrow ripped off the poncho and Emma got a look at his face. There was no mistaking the determination there. Ten minutes later they were nearing the intersection and the Acute Care Center as a car pulled out in front of them. Emma's throat went dry with fear and she scrambled in her pocket for her gun.

The car window lowered and she saw that Oz was driving.

“Get in.”

Carrow and Emma tumbled into the car, with her in front and him in back. Oz hit the gas.

“Thank you from the bottom of my heart,” Carrow said. “I didn't know how I was going to run down that hill.”

“Did Sumner leave?” Emma asked. Oz shook his head.

“We saw the fire and heard the shooting. It was all I could do to get Sumner to stay put in the airplane. I had driven up to the Blue Heron to look for you and all I found was Ms. Johnson, asleep. I put her in the car and drove her to the airport. Then I told him I would drive up this second road and look for you both while he warmed up the jet. It should be ready when we get there.”

“The
Rex
?” Carrow said.

“Yes.”

He turned a corner and the airport came into view. The
Rex
's lights were on and Emma could see that the ladder was down.

“Head straight for it,” she said. “There are several very pissed-off arms dealers gunning for us. We need to get out of here, fast.”

Oz drove to the airport and directly onto the tarmac. When they got out, Emma ran with him and Carrow to the plane. She hurried up the stairs and Carrow showed them how to secure the door.

“All aboard?” Sumner yelled through the open cockpit door. Emma made her way up to him, holding onto seat backs and the wall because the plane was turning to get into position to take off.

“Get us the hell off this island,” she said.

Sumner swung the plane around and started taxiing down the runway, gaining speed. Emma lowered herself into the copilot's seat and watched. From the right, halfway up the hill, she saw a car spin to a stop and the door open. The thin man stepped out. He reached into the passenger seat. The
Rex
moved past and Emma couldn't see anymore.

“Trouble to your right,” she said. “The Russian just pulled up. He was reaching into the back and I'll bet he's getting an RPG.”

“Ten seconds more and we're airborne,” Sumner said. The rain pummeled the plane harder as they increased their speed and Emma snapped into a belt and clutched the armrests. They lifted off and she heard sporadic clapping from the cabin followed by an explosion. The jet shivered. A warning alarm went on and the dashboard lit up in red.

“We've been hit with something,” Sumner said as he kept climbing.

“Can we fly?”

“Yes, but we're leaking fuel. Get Stromeyer on the phone. I'm going to have to land soon.”