Hurricane (37 page)

“
And Meiko,” she said, playing for time.

“
I’ll join her in Miami tomorrow and we’ll live happily ever after. Ironic, isn’t it?” Victor was still shaking his hand and Broxton tossed him the car keys, high and to the right. Victor stretched and grabbed them out of the air.

And Broxton started his run, head down, running hard, splashing water. He was running against the odds. Even without the water it would have been close.

Julie screamed, distracting Victor for an instant, giving Broxton the small edge he needed. He slipped to the floor, landing on his buttocks, legs extended, like he was sliding into second base to break up a double play.

Victor started shooting, but Broxton was faster than his aim and the bullets whizzed over his head and sizzled into the water covered floor.

“
You fuck!” Victor screamed as Broxton’s extended feet smashed into his knees. Victor went flying backwards with Broxton grabbing and clawing onto him.

Julie looked around for a weapon as the two men rolled around on the floor, pummeling each other and fighting for the gun. One second Broxton was on top, the next Victor. She had no illusions as to what would happen if Victor won the fight.

She hobbled over to a floating piece of wood, about a square foot in measure, part of a counter top, plywood, covered by white Formica. Not much of a weapon, but better than none at all. She hobbled toward the men, but as she approached they rolled away, two gladiators locked in mortal combat.

Julie struggled on, but they were all over the room. They both had their hands on the gun and it went off. The bullet smashed into the wood she was carrying, knocking it out of her hand.

A second shot rang out and bits of the ceiling rained down on her. She was confused. Who was pulling the trigger? She needed her weapon. The gun went off again, the bullet scorching by her, blasting into a computer half buried in the filthy water.

She dropped to the floor as the gun went off for a fourth time, landing on her wooden square. Again the gun went off, but she didn’t see where the bullet went.

Then she heard the staccato stutter of an automatic weapon. She scrambled on hands and knees through the water and squirreled behind a fallen ticket counter. Out of sight, on her belly in the water, she peaked around the counter.

Dieter was standing, framed by the light coming in through the blown out windows, hair and clothes rippling in the wind. He was holding a Mach Ten machine pistol. He fired again, splashing bullets into the water around Broxton and Victor. Then they hit home and she watched in horror as Dieter pumped several rounds into Victor’s back.

“
No!” She still had the Formica covered piece of plywood in her hand and she stood, whipped her arm back, like she was throwing a Frisbee and sailed the board toward Dieter.

Alerted by her scream, he ducked and the spinning board flew over his head. She was dropping back to the floor even as he was bringing the gun to bear on her and a single shot rang out.

“
Shit!” Dieter screamed as the bullet socked into him. The machine pistol went flying and Broxton was rising from the floor with the pistol in his hand. Dieter’s body spun around as he thrashed and splashed across the lobby, finally coming to rest face down in the water. Broxton pointed the gun at him and pulled the trigger and Julie heard the clink as the hammer fell on an empty chamber, but the body didn’t move.

“
Looks dead to me,” Julie said.

“
Me, too,” Broxton said.

Julie slogged across the lobby and picked up her wooden Frisbee. “I almost got him,” she said, tucking it under her arm.

“
You’re going to keep it?”

“
I have a feeling,” she said. Something was niggling at her mind. She looked at Dieter or rather Eddie Fitch, face down in the muddy water. Quiet and still in death. It had something to do with him. She held tighter to the plywood, digging it into her side. It would come to her.

“
This way,” Broxton helped Julie out of the lobby and toward the departure gates. “There,” he said, and she saw them, two rows of luggage lockers.

Julie, excited, let go of Broxton, and stumbled ahead, clenching her teeth against the pain shooting from her ankle. “There,” she said, “2124.”

Broxton inserted the key. “I can’t turn it,” he said. “The back has been cut off so that it could fit inside the half dollar.” But Julie wasn’t listening, because she had a flash, a lightning bolt to the brain. It hit her hard, the thing that had been bothering her.

Without thinking she shoved Broxton aside as bullets blasted into the locker where he’d been standing, and she spun around, pivoting on the oversized running shoes, flinging the plywood with all her might. Tammy Drake was caught off guard as the spinning wood slammed into her stomach, knocking the wind out of her.

She doubled over, but kept her hand on the gun. She was about to fire from a bent over crouch, when a crazed yell echoed through the departure hall, and before she had a chance to pull the trigger again T-Bone dove on her and ripped the pistol from her hand.

Tammy thrashed in the muddy water, but T-Bone grabbed her by the hair and shoved her face in the muck. “I’ll let up if you stop,” he said, and she went limp. T-Bone stood, holding the pistol in his left hand and Tammy’s hair in his right, keeping her down on the ground, her head at his knees.

“
How did you know?” Tammy said, wiping mud from her face.

“
I remember you said you’d overheard Dieter and Kurt speaking German. He doesn’t speak German, he’s American. I just figured it out.”

“
Who shot Victor?” Tammy said.

“
Dieter,” Julie said. “He was trying to kill Broxton and missed.”

“
Hey, we don’t have all day here. Let’s get the show on the road and blow. There’s dead bodies out there, there’s gonna be cops. Lots of ’em. We gotta go,” T-Bone said. Then he added, “Danny Boy, can I have this woman?”

“
No you can’t,” Tammy said.

“
She’s yours,” Broxton said.

“
You can’t do that, Broxton,” Julie said. “It’s like rape.”

“
Does my man get a share of what’s in that locker?” Tammy said.

“
He does.” Broxton said.

“
Then let’s get the damn thing open and get out of here. There’s a nail clippers in my purse. It’s over there, she pointed to a counter by the departure gates that was still standing. She pushed herself up and sloshed over to the purse and pulled out the clippers, came back and handed them to Julie.

Julie pressed the clippers, like a small pair of pliers, around the bit of key that was sticking out of the keyhole and turned.

The locker opened.

“
Briefcases,” Julie said. “Five of them.”

“
There’s two million in each one. US dollars,” Tammy said.

“
Holy shit,” T-Bone said.

“
It’s drug money,” Julie said. “It got Hideo killed and ruined thousands of lives. I don’t want it.”

“
She’s right,” Broxton said. “I couldn’t live with it either.”

“
Well, I can,” Tammy said, bringing a small twenty-two automatic from her purse, but a shot thundered through the room. The gun flew from her hand as she jerked up and landed on her back, a bright red stain spreading between her breasts.

“
We could have been so good together,” T-Bone said, his thirty-eight smoking in his left hand.

“
What do we do now?” Julie said.

“
We’ll take the money to the boat. Then we’ll motor round the island to Grand Case. It’s a small anchorage. I got a house there, woman friend of mine watches it. I’ll take the money ashore and you two can sail Voyager off into the sunset. We’ll meet up again in a couple of months.”

“
You serious?” Broxton said.

“
Hey, don’t look so disappointed, I’m not gonna keep it.”

“
What are you going to do with it?” Julie asked.

“
When I was a kid there was show called the Millionaire. It was about this rich guy who went around giving a million bucks anonymously to folks who needed it. Kind of a stupid show, but I liked it. Now I’m gonna be him. I’m gonna give money to folks that lost their boats, folks that couldn’t afford the rip of insurance rates. I’ll find the ones that need it the most and find a way to give it to ’em so that no one finds out.”

“
I think that’s a fine idea,” Julie said.

“
So do I,” Broxton said.

“
Then let’s get the fuck out of here,” T-Bone said.

They grabbed the briefcases, two for each of the men, one for Julie, and started toward the exit. Julie carried her case in one hand and used Broxton’s shoulder for support with the other. Outside the wind was calm as they ran across the field to the runway and the dinghy beyond.