Maroon Rising (29 page)

Johnny spun, lowered his shoulder, and bulled past me.

I sprang off the door jamb, caught up to him in maybe three seconds, dove, and hit him square in the back. We went down hard, the air squeezed from Johnny’s lungs when I landed on top of him. I got his right arm pinned behind his back and my left arm around his neck.

“Going somewhere, Johnny?”

I yanked him to his feet. When he tried a drop move I jammed my knee into his ass—another groan. I pulled my arm tight around his neck and spun him to the left, back toward Stanley’s house. Then marched him inside.

“On the chair,” Stanley said.

A final push toward the chair against the wall—Johnny whirled back toward us, only to come face-to-face with Stanley’s double-barreled shotgun.

“Don’t think I won’t use this, punk-ass.”

“Sit down,” I said.

Johnny looked from face to face, sucked in a deep breath, and lowered himself onto the chair. Slowly.

“What the hell’s going on here?” he said. “Why you doing this to me?”

“We need to check out some coincidences,” I said.

“Goddamn, mon, you couldn’t just ask me whatever the hell you talking about?”

“You’re the one who ran,” I said. Then to Stanley, “You can lower the gun.”

Ray was still back by the front door, and knowing him as I did, he would stay as far away from what was happening here as possible.

“We can have a civil conversation,” Stanley said. “But I’m damned mad, as you can see—so we need truthful answers.”

Just then a woman who had to be at least a hundred years old carried in a tray of iced drinks. It was Tarrah, the Obeah woman Nanny and I had met downriver on the raft.

“Coconut water?” She placed the tray on the small table, handed glasses to each of us. Parched after the long drive and the action, I guzzled mine. The liquid, thicker than water, was cool and soothing.

Stanley kept his glass tilted up, swallowing until it was empty. Ray sipped at his, savoring the drink. Johnny drank deeply, then wiped his lips on his bare arm.

I did my best to stare at his face the way he’d stared at the side of my head in the car.

“Remember on the ride up here when I was telling you about how Gunner intercepted us at the crossing near Blue Mountain?”

“What about it?” Johnny said.

“And then again when Nanny and I were attacked outside of Albert Town?”

Johnny crossed his arms—tightly, as if he were holding himself together.

“Yeah, so?”

“
So
, you were the only person I told about either of those trips.”

Johnny slid lower in his seat. He was blinking rapidly.

“How long you been feeding info to Gunner?”

He started smacking and licking his lips.

“Damn, woman, how much you put in his drink?” Stanley had turned to face Tarrah.

Her laugh was a deep cackle that made me shiver.

“I give him enough so he talk to get the antidote, or he die,” she said.

Johnny sat back up fast. His eyes bugged out and a rapid shake began in his extremities. Tarrah stepped up to him and bent at the waist to peer in his eyes.

“I say you got ten minutes before you no longer able to breathe. Five or six before you no longer talk.”

Johnny tried to jump up but fell out of the chair—his legs no longer functioned. I rolled him onto his back.

“Get him some water!”

When he drained the small water glass, he cleared his throat.

“Four minutes,” Tarrah said. “Talk.”

The sentences came out jerky and he kept clearing his throat, but Johnny talked.

“When they were selected, he made me an offer—you were gone, so why not?” He cleared his throat. “Then you came back.” Again he cleared his throat. “Nanny—she persuade you—but Gunner … he … had me—”

“Is Nanny safe?” I said.

Everyone leaned closer.

“Yeah, mon. She—”

Johnny’s eyes rolled behind his head. Tarrah knelt down and slapped him hard—his entire body convulsed, then his eyes opened.

“She told me about … the drawing … caves …” He tried to clear his throat again. Stanley poured water into his mouth. “Canoes—up in the air.”

I signaled Tarrah. “He’s telling the truth.”

“He don’t tell us nothing we don’t know, yet,” she said.

Dammit!

I grabbed Johnny by both of his biceps and lifted him up to a seated position.

“Where is she, Johnny?”

His eyes rolled around like balls in a pachinko machine.

“Give him the antidote!” I said.

Tarrah shook her head.

“Stanley!” I said. “Tell her!”

“I told Nanny someone would die!” Tarrah dropped her voice to a bone-chilling whisper. “Won’t be her alone.”

“He said she’s alive—she’ll die if we don’t get to her!”

“Give him the antidote,” Stanley said.

Silence. Nobody spoke, nobody moved.

Then Tarrah grimaced, reached into her waistcoat pocket, and took out what looked like coffee beans. She pulled Johnny’s head back by his hair, dropped the beans into his mouth, poured a small amount of coconut water in, and massaged his jaw until he swallowed.

But Johnny had drifted out of consciousness—I was terrified she’d waited too long. We sat watching in a circle around him for minutes that seemed like hours. The only sign of life was his breathing—

His body convulsed.

Tarrah slapped him hard on the cheek. His eyes popped open, his eyelids fluttered, and he convulsed again. After a few moments, he balled and then relaxed his fists.

“Where is she, Johnny?” Tarrah said. “Nanny? Who has her?”

He licked his lips and his eyes focused on me.

“No woman, no cry.”

I looked at Stanley. “Bob Marley—where was he from?”

“Nine Mile,” Stanley said.

Johnny shook his head and closed his eyes.

“Trench Town?” Ray said from behind us.

Johnny’s eyes popped open. A slight nod followed.

Tarrah bent over him.

“You take these men to find her?” Tarrah’s voice sounded like a challenge from the devil’s own lips, at least to me.

Johnny nodded rapidly.

“You best,” she said. “If you want to live.”

T
he sky swirled with Van Gogh shapes and colors as the sunset exploded over Kingston Harbor. We were fully loaded and armed for rescue, but needed recon to confirm the other assholes were occupied and distracted. Johnny had told his cohorts he was on his way, which we would be shortly.

The moon hovered above the water’s surface, maroon and rising. We were parked with the motor running at the edge of Port Royal, the Jeep surrounded by Coast Guardsmen holding rifles. Their commander had his fists balled on his hips, his legs spread wide as he faced me from fifty yards away.

I checked the time and rubbed my palms together.

Come on, Ray.

Through the binoculars I could see Jack’s crew pulling lines. And then I heard engines starting. Gray-black smoke hovered over the flotilla. They’d finally pulled the plug on the dive and restoration project. Had they given up, or had they found the submerged cavern in the Cockpit Country cave?

Wait.

I adjusted the focus on the binoculars—yes!

Jack was still on the main boat—

A low grumble caught my attention from the north. I turned, and the Coast Guardsman also turned to see—yes!

The Beast flew low. Ray must have gotten clearance this close to the airport—he’d never break the rules. He was maybe a thousand feet above the water, coming hard and fast.

I swallowed, remembering Gunner’s men shooting at us the day we’d arrived.

Would Jack?

I forced myself to focus again on the flotilla. Someone pointed toward the sky, weapons were raised—

There! Jack shouted something. More guns were raised. A big man ran out from the salon—

Gunner!

The Beast buzzed them. Everyone ducked except Gunner, who gave Ray the finger.

Now guns were trained on the Beast. I held my breath. But Ray was hauling ass, gaining rapid distance from the fleet.

Gunner shouted something. The men lowered their weapons. My knees stopped shaking and I released the long breath I’d held.

The Beast shrank in size and I retrained the binoculars on Jack—Gunner gave him a high five.

“That’s right, assholes, we gave up and are headed back to Key West with our tails between our legs.”

Steely stares watched us inside the Jeep.

“Tell Colonel Grandy he owes me,” the commander said. “Now get the hell out of here.”

“Thanks again for letting us enter the prohibited area.” But I really just wanted to make sure that what Johnny had told us was true, that Jack and Gunner were not where Nanny was being held, and then to make sure they saw the Beast depart. Hopefully they bought it and would no longer think they had to race against me.

Pierce sat next to Johnny Blake in the Jeep’s backseat. The passenger seat was empty, but hopefully not for long.

“I told you they don’t know shit about Nanny,” Johnny said. “You always playing misdirection games, Buck. That’s what cause all this.”

Our eyes caught in the rearview mirror.

“I learned long ago not to trust people in this business,” I said. “I let my judgment lapse with you.”

“I had her grabbed for her own protection, mon,” Johnny said. “Gunner wanted to torture and kill her—after he rape her, he said.”

“Very noble, Johnny.” I rubbed my palm across my scalp, the lump from the beating I’d taken still tender. “She’d better be okay, for your sake. And your giving Gunner our whereabouts risked our lives.”

Pierce slapped the side of Johnny’s head, and he flinched.

We set out past the airport, along the waterfront and through Kingston. By the time we arrived in Trench Town, one of the poorest communities in Jamaica, darkness was complete. The sound of dance hall music blared from open doors, men and women roamed the streets looking for action of any kind. I drove fast with my doors locked. The rental Jeep was already a target, but with me behind the wheel it would be an invitation—

“Turn left at the light,” Johnny said.

The traffic signal turned red before I could reach the intersection. Three young men rushed the vehicle with a bucket and rags—two began to wash my windshield.

“No thank you! No!”

My voice made them split, then two came toward my door while the third went to the passenger side.

“One thousand dollar, mon!” the one outside my window said. The exchange rate being a hundred to one.

The light changed and I stomped on the gas pedal. A couple more turns as directed by Johnny led us into a neighborhood of squat rundown shacks, several of which had no glass in their window frames.

“Two doors down.” Johnny’s voice was on edge. “Listen, Buck, you play it like I say and it goes fine, mon. If not, I can’t be taking responsibility—”

“Oh, you’re responsible, Johnny. Something happens to us, won’t be anyplace you can hide.” I paused. “That old woman scares the shit out of me, and we’re on the same side. She comes at you? Forget about it,
mon
. So
you
play it like we agreed.”

We came to a stop in front of the house. The Jeep would be a dead giveaway.

“If Nanny’s unharmed, we’ll tie you and your friends up, and Pierce will stay here with you until tomorrow when we’ve finished our business. I can’t have you tipping Gunner off. You cooperate, we won’t call the police.”

Johnny stepped out.

“I’ve got a bad feeling,” Pierce said.

He was a couple inches shorter than me but thirty pounds heavier, and it was all muscle. If
he
was worried …

“Come on,” I said.

We followed Johnny. Pierce trailed after me, trying to hide the shotgun between us. Johnny stepped to the side of the door to peer inside a window with no glass.

“Yo! It’s me,” he said.

A voice called back from deep inside. The words were unintelligible to my ear, but the tone sounded friendly.

Soon I heard the sound of someone unbolting the door. I held Johnny’s arm—I knew he’d run if he got the chance.

The door cracked open. Pierce kicked hard and it flew wide.

Clunk!

Grunt … thud.

Pierce was through the door. I shoved Johnny in ahead of me.

Inside, Pierce was on top of the man who’d answered the door—now out cold, a bloody crease across his forehead.

“Door must’ve hit him in the face,” Pierce said.

I pointed to Johnny.

“Yo! Freddy?” he said.

A muffled voice from another room. The smell of ganja was strong in the air, as if there was a constant fire burning—which I suspected there was. Johnny sauntered ahead, waving us to follow.

As large as Pierce was, he tiptoed silently behind Johnny, his shotgun raised. I walked behind them into a dimly lit corridor—slowly, it being hard to see ahead of us with so little light—the aroma of smoldering weed stronger with every step.

Johnny turned a corner. He shouted something I couldn’t follow, jerked his arm free, darted somewhere I couldn’t see, and ran—I could hear his damn footsteps. I heard glass breaking, then a rush of air came from our left. I stepped on broken glass and looked out the window: two men were running away from the house. Pierce and I watched them disappear into the night.