Dragon Moon (29 page)

We take to the air shortly after midnight, when the ship is closest to Key West. I'm tempted to fly all the way to Caya DelaSangre, but I have no way of knowing where Derek is or where he's put my son.

Chloe follows me as I head for the glow of Key West's lights, a small bag held in one of her foreclaws. I carry a similar bag, filled with a change of clothes, money and the cellular phone Claudia arranged for us.

“What are we going to do when we get there?”
Chloe mindspeaks.

I sigh.
“In the morning, you'll just have to shift into Marcia's shape one more time. We'll go shopping before we meet Claudia.”

“Good,”
Chloe says.
“I wouldn't want her to think I'm that woman.”

25

The lack of motion wakes me. I sit up, momentarily confused, until I remember we're no longer on a ship. Careful not to disturb Chloe, I get out of bed, look out the sliding glass doors, past the shutters I removed the night before, to the ocean behind the house. A few boats are cruising offshore, even though the sun sits barely a few degrees above the horizon.

I sigh, wish Chloe and I could have more time to play. But all the problems waiting for us in Miami flood my mind. Even though the distance may still be too much, I try mindspeaking to my son, masking my thoughts. {
Henri! Henri! It's me, Papa!
}

No answer. I try again and get the same result. I sigh once more, go the the nightstand, pick up the cellular phone Claudia's Jamaicans gave me and dial.

Claudia doesn't answer until the fifth ring. “Yup,” she says.

“We're here.” I say. “Where are you?” I whisper in the cellphone so as not to disturb Chloe. I don't see any reason to explain that we broke into someone's shuttered beach house and slept in their master bedroom.

“Land's End Marina, slip four,” she says.

“Everything go okay?”

“Yeah, I had to burn up almost a whole gas tank to do it, but I got in last night.”

“Any word on the other Peter?”

“You've got to be kidding. Your call just woke me up.” She pauses. “It's only eight-thirty. No, I haven't talked to any of our operatives yet. I didn't know when I'd hear from you today.”

Chloe makes a contented sound, almost a purr and I turn, look at her, her eyes still closed, stretching under the covers, moving like a cat just waking up. So much for being quiet, I think. “We still need to get up here and get dressed,” I say in my regular voice.

“We need new clothes too,” Chloe says.

“And we need to go shopping for some clothes,” I say into the phone.

“Do you want me to get a cab and come for you?” Claudia says.

“No. We can get one ourselves. We'll be a while yet. Why don't you call Miami, see what's happening?”

“Sure,” she says. “Have fun shopping.”

Chloe gets up, shifts one last time into Marcia Liebman's form. Frowning I do the same, adopting the build, the balding head of her husband. We both dress as quickly as we can, leaving the house from its rear.

My bride takes the beach and surrounding hotels in stride. We go inland to the first road and walk on the sidewalk ten blocks south to Duvall Street. Once there, we head up the street, searching for a store that sells more than trinkets or T-shirts. She says, “It doesn't look much different than Ocho Rios.”

Looking at the bars and restaurants, the souvenir and T-shirt joints, I nod agreement. “Pretty much one tacky tourist trap looks like another,” I say. I tell her about my unsuccessful attempts to reach Henri.

“Poor you.” She puts her hand on my shoulder. “It's too far yet. He's too young to be able to hear from such a distance.”

“Poor Henri,” I say.

She nods, says, “That too.”

On a corner, a few blocks before we reach the end of the street, we come upon what looks like a small department store, its windows filled with fine clothes and gifts. I read the sign out loud, “Fastbuck Freddies.”

“Now this,” Chloe says as we enter, “is what I expected America to be like.”

I call a sales clerk over to show me some khaki shorts while Chloe takes some clothes into a changing room. After she emerges, newly dressed in shorts, sneakers and tank top, changed from Marcia Liebman into the brown beauty I love, I carry my new clothes into a different changing room and gladly shed Barry Liebman's appearance and clothing.

We buy enough other clothing to last a few weeks. The sales clerk seems confused to have lost track of the Liebmans, but thrilled to make such a large sale so early in the day. She follows us out of the store, gushes, “Please come back soon,” as we leave.

I can see slip four and Arturo Gomez's SeaRay from Land's End Marina's parking lot, the boat's sleek white hull gleaming in the morning sun. “That boat can cruise at over twenty-five miles an hour,” I say to Chloe as we get out of the taxi and I pay the fare. “We'll be in Miami before dark.”

“And then what?” Chloe says.

We walk toward the dock. “That depends on your brother and my son,” I say. “The first thing I'm concerned about is Henri. If we can find him and get him somewhere safe, then we can deal with Derek.”

“Are you sure we can deal with him? He's larger than you, you know.”

“Not large enough to defeat the both of us. My hope is he'll realize that before anything starts.”

“That's a good hope to have,” Chloe says. “But I have to tell you it doesn't sound anything like the way my brother would behave. Derek's not quite that smart.”

“Then we'll have to teach him, won't we?” I say.

Claudia comes up from the cabin as soon as we step on board the SeaRay. “Peter!” she says, rushing forward, wrapping her arms around me. Chloe stands back, watches, no expression on her face.

I disengage, motion to my mate to come forward. “This is Chloe, my wife,” I say.

“She's adorable!” Claudia extends her hand to Chloe. “Young of course, but Pop told me you like them that way.” Looking at my bride, she says, “Welcome to Key West.” Then she glances from Chloe to me and back. “Congratulations!”

My bride shakes her hand. “Thank you,” she says, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She eyes Claudia. “You're adorable too.”

Claudia either doesn't notice or chooses to ignore Chloe's tone. She takes our packages. “I've been straightening up the cabin, putting my stuff in the Vee berth in the bow. You guys are the newlyweds, so you can have the stateroom in the middle. I'll put your gear there. But” — she laughs — “we do have to share the head.”

“How soon can we get underway?” I say.

“Maybe thirty minutes.” Claudia shrugs. “All we have to do is settle up at the marina office, take on some fuel and cast off.”

I take the wheel, guide us out of Key West Harbor, Chloe standing next to me, watching the boats as we pass them. When we go by a cruise ship docked at Mallory Pier, the massive ship towering above us, my bride presses against me, whispers, “I love the time we spent together on the
Carribean Queen.
”

Kissing her on her cheek, I say, “Me too.” As soon as we pass the cruise ship, I jam the throttles forward, the SeaRay's twin Mercuries growling as they accelerate, our wake rising and spreading behind us.

Claudia joins us, grinning. “Couldn't wait, huh? It's good we're going today. They say a storm may be coming tomorrow. The sea's not too bad yet,” she says. “We should be able to run full speed all the way home.”

“Good.” I guide us out the channel, turn the boat so we can go around Key West on the ocean side. “What did your people report?”

“Wait a second.” Claudia goes below deck, returns with a small pad. “Peter left the island yesterday at about eleven. He spent most of the day at the office, returned to the island before dark and left about nine in the evening, carrying a large bundle. My man says, after Peter docked at Monty's, he carried the bundle to a truck in the parking lot and put it in the truck's back. After the truck drove away, Peter walked over to Grove House and spent the night.”

“What was in the bundle?” I say.

The girl shrugs.

“Didn't any of your people follow the truck?”

“No. I had someone watching the island and a few others by the office, like you asked. They did what I told them. They followed Peter. None of them thought to follow the truck.”

“Damn it!” I shake my head. “What else?”

“After ten this morning, a little after you called me, he left the hotel in your black Mercedes.” She grins. “A redhead, Rita Santiago they think, was driving. And yes, Peter, my people followed them. They drove to Miami International.”

“Who'd they meet?”

“No one yet,” Claudia says. “My people tell me they're waiting by the Air Jamaica concourse. They're supposed to call me as soon as they see who Peter meets. That is, of course, if we're in cellphone range.”

“I'm thinking of running up on the Atlantic side. We can get back in range the quickest by coming in at Caesar's Creek, off of Homestead, and running up the bay from there. Can you set the GPS for that?”

“Sure,” Claudia says.

 

“The bundle could have been Henri, you know,” Chloe says.

I know all too well. “He wouldn't have killed him, would he have?”

“There would be no reason for that,” Chloe says. “Yet.”

It weighs on me. That and the mystery person or persons that Derek's waiting for at the airport. I ignore the beauty of the day and the calm ocean around us. Even though we're already going at full speed, I tap the throttles forward to see if the boat can go any faster. All I want is for the day to pass, for me to be close enough to reach Henri.

“Could your father be healed already?” I say.

Chloe pauses, thinks, before she says, “It's been over forty-eight hours since you pushed him into the sinkhole. Don't you think you could heal in that much time?”

I nod. “But without a phone or a car, what could he do?”

“That depends on Virgil Claypool,” Chloe says. “Maybe you were right. Maybe we should have killed him.”

26

Henri finally answers me, five hours after we leave Key West, just as we're passing Key Largo, nearing Carrysfort Reef. {
Papa?
} he says. {
Where are you?
}

{
Coming home soon, baby. Soon. Tell me where you are.
}

{
I don't know. It's dark, Papa. I don't like it.
}

{
Is it on the island?
}

{
Maybe. But I'm not so sure, Papa. Sometimes Derek just locks me in my room. Other times, he wraps me up in a blanket and carries me someplace else. He never lets me see where he takes me.
}

I hold back my anger. It will serve no purpose right now. {
Are you hungry?
}

{
No. They always leave me meat and water.
}

{
They?
}

{
A lot of times, Derek has someone with him. I don't know who. He doesn't let me see. They never talk around me. Only Derek does. I don't like him.
}

{
I don't either.
}

{
Papa, he says he had to take me away from you because I was bad. I promise, I'll behave, Papa.
}

{
I never wanted you to go away from me!
} I say, wishing I could have Derek in my hands right now. {
You never were bad.
}

{
Sometimes I did bad things.
}

{
Sometimes you behaved like a normal child. And no matter what, I always loved you and I always wanted you.
}

{
I want to come home now, Papa.
}

I let out a breath, breathe in deep. {
I'll come get you as soon as I can, Henri. As soon as we can find you. You have to pay attention to everything around you. You have to let me know what sounds you hear. What you smell. Can you do that?
}

{
I think so,
} he says. I can picture him nodding as he says it, his eyes big.

{
I love you, son.
}

{
I love you too, Papa.
}

At my request, Claudia relieves me at the boat's wheel. I take Chloe aside and tell her about my conversation with Henri. A flush of anger overtakes her face, just as it had mine, when I repeat what Derek said to my son.

“What an ass!” she says. “If there was any doubt I ever had about harming him, it's long gone now.”

She hugs me. “We'll find him, Peter. Don't worry. Derek's too stupid to hide him well.”

If it weren't for the alarm going off on the GPS, I'd never have realized we were near Caesar's Creek. From the ocean all I can make out is a continuous line of green, tree-covered land hugging the ocean. Of course, I know from long experience, as soon as we draw closer, the channel will show itself, first as a break between the trees, then widening as we near until we see the full size of it — a green expanse of water, hundreds of yards wide, separating two tree-covered islands.

As soon as we pass the first channel marker, Claudia motions for me to take the wheel. Once I do so, she rushes below, returns with her cellphone, punching in a number. She listens, frowns and punches in the number again. This time she grins, gives a thumbs up. She jots notes on her pad as she listens, asks questions and listens again.