Generation of Liars (51 page)

“Well, here she is.” He drew his
hands out to me. “
Kitto Katsu
, Alice.”

“You set me up.”

“You set yourself up. By signing up
with Motley. This has always been the plan. From the beginning, Motley knew he
would have to destroy you once he got what he wanted. My final part of the
mission was to take you out. But I gave you a chance.” During the process of his
speech he had swiveled to face Pressley. I didn’t like the way his eyes were
targeting him. “Why don’t you have your little boyfriend there hand the
dynamite stick to Motley so we can get started?”

I heard the action on Pressley’s
Glock breaking against the silence of the dock. He wasn’t going to stand around
and take this.

“No,” I said to Pressley, “this is
my battle. Let me fight it. I can’t let you rescue me.”

“Fine,” Pressley said. “But I’m not
handing over the dynamite stick just yet.”

Motley was thumbing the trigger on
his Smith & Wesson too. “Not that I would have let you rescue her,” he said
to Pressley smugly. He tucked the gun back into his pants and smiled at David.

David’s arm slid behind his back.
He gallantly wrapped his fingers around the handle of the long sword that was
fastened to the back of his belt. He drew the sword up carefully and slowly,
his body forming into a defensive crouch. The embellishments on the sword’s
handle shimmered in a catch of the quickly-fading moonlight. I recognized it.
It was the sword that had been hanging in Motley’s poker room.

“That’s why Motley bought that
tacky sword?” I bitterly asked. “So he could get some sick ceremonial kick out
of murdering me?”

“No, Alice.” David’s voice had
grown harsh, harsher than I had ever heard, even in the broiling strain of our
training sessions three years earlier. The thing in his voice sounded like
hate. “I
insisted on the sword. Did none of my lessons on an honorable
death reach you? I told Motley that I would only kill you with the utmost of
dignity.”

David eyes were pinned to mine and
I saw a flicker of malice swimming in his those dark irises, which were trimmed
in blanched skin. He aimed the sword forward, swooshing it in a figure-eight
motion, and jacking it to my ankles. I hopped over the blade. I was teeter
tottering, trying to balance myself from falling over.

“Alice,” he said, his voice so
dripping with faux empathy, “don’t you remember any of my lessons on a noble
surrender? Of giving up and accepting death honorably once you realize you
cannot overtake your opponent?”

My focus was ripped to shreds.
There was a racket coming from the water. The sound of a motor churning in the
distance. I stretched my eyes and saw a line of ripples in the water moving
towards the banks. A white yacht. It was zipping over the water, sleekly
bouncing above the shaft of currents. David heard it too and he let his grip on
the sword loosen as he turned his head to where the sound was emanating from. I
shot a look to Motley. “Great, who else did you call in to help kill me?”

Motley’s face, however, revealed a
bewildered state of mind. His eyes were scrunching. A grimace was overtaking
his lips. He was just as wary of a new arrival as I was. His eyes glided at
Cleopatra with a look of accusation. “Who else did you order in?” he asked her.

“Me?” she rebuffed. “I didn’t call
anyone in.”

“Are you sure?”

“Are you accusing me of some sort
of espionage? How dare you,” she stammered.

“It wouldn’t be the first time you
betrayed me in all our time together, Can-Can girl.”

“And what about you, Fool? How do I
know you didn’t call someone in to finish me off? We know how much you like
watching the pretty ones die.” She was clutching the key that dangled from a
black velvet string around her neck, the one she always wore. “Or maybe you are
only after my diamonds.”

The mysterious boat was easing to
the dock now. A slim figure, dressed all in black, slithered out. Thorny heels
were clicking against the splintered wooden panels that lined the dock. My eyes
followed them up the length of a pair of svelte legs to a shiny black mane that
sifted above a very firm derriere.

I was smiling. I turned to Motley
and Cleopatra, both wide-mouthed and insecurely bickering back and forth. “This
one’s here for me,” I told them.

The mystery guest was Vivienne
Ting. Now she was swaying towards us. She had several long strands of rope
coiled in her hands. She was swinging the ropes at David.

I rolled out of the way. The ropes
cut between David and I with a hissing sound. The sword was tugged clean from
David’s hands and it landed in Vivienne’s cradling arms. It happened as though
in slow motion, and yet it was quicker than a flash of lighting. Her eyes, calm
and fierce, seemed to light up against the resplendent sheen of the sword’s
blade. She slid her finger across the length of the blade. She put them to her
lips and it looked like she was tasting the power and mightiness of the sword
on her tongue like it was Pixie Stick sugar.

“
Kitto Katsu
,” she
confidently growled. She swung the sword up over her head and charged at David.
The tip of the sword flirted with his Adam’s apple, and I saw the lump gyrate
in his throat. “I think it would be a good idea for you to take your own advice
about a noble surrender,” she hissed at him. With the blade so aligned with his
tender throat, David didn’t look like he was in the mood to disagree.

Amidst the distraction, Pressley
pulled up his Glock and fixed Motley inside his crosshairs.

Motley was now reaching for his own
gun. “Don’t be a fool, Motley,” Pressley grumbled.

“Don’t even think about moving,”
Vivienne said to Motley, without breaking the steel-lock stare she had on
David. “Aside from the CIA agent with a gun pointed at your face, Rabbit is
onboard the yacht with a combat pistol from my boss Jean Etienne’s personal
security detail, aimed and ready to fire.”

We heard a clunky trigger click
from the helm of the yacht and a red digital bulls-eye beamed onto Motley’s
forehead. Motley’s finger wiggled free from his pocket and he put his hands
into the air.

Balancing the sword in one fist,
Vivienne twisted her ropes over David, wrapping his arms to his body and tying
off the ends snuggly. Then, she bound his feet, starting at his ankles,
constricting the ropes all the way up to his waist. He resembled something of a
strung sausage when she was done. “Who’s next?” she asked. She walked to Motley
and nimbly bound his wrists and ankles, like she had done David’s. Vivienne
used the remainder of her rope to restrain Cleopatra’s arms and legs and set
her down between Motley and David.

The yacht Vivienne had arrived in
began to rattle. Rabbit emerged and jumped onto the dock. “How did I do on
backup?” he asked. In his scrawny arms, he was holding a gun that looked like
it was intended for powder-kegging world war III.

I looked at Motley, his lips spiked
up into a grimace at the sight of Rabbit.

“Since you’re so keen on airing
dirty laundry tonight,” I said to him, “why don’t you tell Rabbit what you did
to him?”

“What do you mean, Alice?” Rabbit
asked.

“Motley set you up with that poker
racket and he’s the one who turned you in to the dean at Yale, all because he
wanted you to work for him.”

“Is this true?” Rabbit asked
Motley. The sting of the betrayal he was discovering caused his eyes to
populate with watery clouds.

“It’s true,” Motley said. “It’s a
shame you went along with this floozy girl, because you always were my favorite,
Lenny. We could have had a long, fruitful association with one another.”

“Don’t call me
that
,” Rabbit
said. “Don’t call me Lenny ever again. He’s dead. And I don’t need you anymore.
I already cashed my check and now I am going to live my life with the girl I
love.”

“Alright, everyone,” Pressley
interjected. “I have to remind you all that I am holding a bomb. The bomb is
down to less than five minutes. We need to get a move on.” Pressley held his
gun sideways at Motley’s temple.

“Pressley, what are you doing?” I
cried.

“It’s time we end this, Alice.
We’re blowing up the dynamite stick and it’s time to cut off all the loose ends
from this time in your life.”

“No.” I tapped the gun away from
Motley’s skin. “We’re not murderers. I can’t let you do that. I’ve lived with
the guilt of thinking that I took someone’s life for the last three years. I
can’t let you turn into a monster.”

Pressley’s eyes dropped over Motley
and he gave him a look intended for house rodents. “Fine. But I have a feeling
the decision to let this rat live is going to come back to haunt me.”

“There is one last thing I should
do,” I said, glaring at Cleopatra, her long silky legs tied up in rope making
her look like a mermaid tangled in sea ivy. I firmed my ankles on either side
of Cleopatra’s torso and bent down and ripped the key from around her neck.

“Ugh,” she grunted, and her plump
lips sneered at me. I held the key between my fingers and inspected it from all
sides, there was an inscription etched into the key: Property of Pat Leor.
“What are you doing with that?” she wanted to know.

“Cleopatra,” I purred
antagonistically, “do you remember how I told you I bought your old Pat Leor
identity off an identity broker?”

“Yes.”

“I still have your passport tucked
away in my old apartment. I bet that would be enough to get me access to your
safety deposit box.” My lips formed a nasty grin. “You know, Cleopatra, they
say diamonds are a girl’s best friend, but I’d say a passport and a key to a
locker full of diamonds are girl’s real best pals. Wouldn’t you?”

“You little beast!” she screamed,
and her legs struggled against the rope restraints.

“
Au Revoir
,” I said,
stepping over her to catch up with Pressley, Rabbit, and Vivienne, who were
already aboard the yacht Vivienne had arrived in. I tripped over an empty
bottle of absinthe in the entrance. “Hey,” I said, “I’ve been in this yacht
before. It’s Jean Etienne’s.”

“I borrowed it from my boss,”
Vivienne told me. She had her hands on the wheel.

“Be careful about pissing off your
boss,” I warned. “I’m learning about that the hard way.”

“So, where can you navigate this
thing so that we can dump the dynamite stick?” Pressley wanted to know.

Vivienne spun the wheel beneath her
agile palms. “Anywhere you want.”

He looked down at the blinking red
numbers in his hand. “I don’t think we have time to get us anywhere to dump the
boat. The timer on the bomb is down to less than a minute. I think we may need
to dump ourselves. If we jump off and blow the yacht up in the water, nobody
will be hurt and the authorities will all think we’ve died in the blast. But we
need to jump now!”

“Right here? In front of the Andre
Citroën?” I asked. “That’s going to draw the cops here in minutes.”

“Then I hope you’re a fast
swimmer,” Pressley replied.

“Let’s do it,” Rabbit said. He was
rolling up his sleeves.

Chapter Fifty-six: Stars in the Water

P
RESSLEY
JAMMED THE bomb into the spokes on the yacht’s steering wheel. The four of us
ran to the deck. I balanced up onto the edge of the deck and put my hand out to
link it with Pressley’s. His hair was matted from the sea sprays trickling down
his cheeks like grease. “You ready for this?” he asked me.

“Now or never,” I said.

Rabbit and Vivienne were right
beside us.

At the jump, my body slammed
against the water and I lost my grip on Pressley’s hand. I looked up and saw
Vivienne’s hair, like dark feathers, whipping by me as she pummeled into the
water with Rabbit attached to her arm. The pair of them disappeared into the
scattering abyss. The pressure pounded my ears and I heard the sound of an
infinite void all around me. I felt the pressure of a tide against me, and the
suppression of a loud blast on the surface of the water exploded inside my ear
drums. Intense pressure surged through my entire body and I could not decipher
if I was right side up or upside down amidst the torrent.

 I bobbed to the surface of
the water and my eyes tried to regain my bearings. The city lights bounced off
the surface of the river so that crystal sheets of water surrounded me. I saw a
huge fireball, like an orange aurora, coming up from the water. A radiant light
skimmed the surface of the translucent water as tremendous hunks of what had
been the yacht shot out from the center of the explosion like nails shot into
space. I cried out, “Pressley!” There was only smoke to answer my cries. Thick
black smoke which choked my lungs and made me want to vomit my insides out.

I saw Rabbit bob to the surface;
his sandy hair was vacuumed-sealed all around his face. Next, Vivienne emerged
from the water, her slick black hair cloaking her face like a sea hellion.
 

“Where’s Pressley?” I called out to
them.

They both circled in the water,
water rings and ripples surrounding them as they spun about, frantically trying
to locate Pressley. “I don’t see him,” Rabbit called back. The surface of the
water circling him was greenish and obscuring. An abyss.

“Pressley!” I screamed. The sky
seemed to turn upside down and the stars scattered down into the water as I
frantically scanned for any sign of him.

A single ripple inspired hope.

The ripple grew outward, like rings
encased inside a tree, until finally a head crowned up from the blackened
abyss. Black tresses of soaked hair emerged until finally I could see
Pressley’s eyes, clenched tight against the sting of water. I swam to him, and
there was black sludge covering the left side of his cheek that I realized that
it was blood. “Alice,” he cried back.

“Are you okay?” I asked. I was
splashing towards him. He seemed to get farther with every inch I swam. The
tall shadow of flames from the wreckage reflected over the surface of the
water.