Storm Surge (29 page)

“Yes. Moon’s out there.
Looking for you.
And if he finds you before we can make a
deal, he’ll kill you both. At which point, I have no further use for the girl,
and she dies.”

There was another long pause. The only
sound was the whistling of the wind and the pounding of the rain on the roof.
Finally, Mercer spoke. “Okay,” he said.
“Deal.”

“Right, then,” Blake said. “Here’s how
it goes. You and the woman meet me at the Buchan house.
Unarmed.”

“Actually,” Mercer said, “I’m already
here.”

Blake moved closer, putting the barrel
of his pistol an inch from Glory’s ear.
“Where?”

“In the bedroom.
Down the hall.
I came in the same way I got out last time.”

“That means…”

Blake looked up. A woman was standing
in the doorway, a pistol trained on Blake. She stepped into the room, the gun
never wavering.

“Yeah,” Mercer said as he came in
behind her. “It’s time for us to talk.”

CHAPTER
SEVENTY-ONE

“So,” Blake
said. “You killed Moon. I didn’t think anyone could kill Moon.”

“Neither did
he
,” Mercer said. “That’s why he died. Anyone can be killed,
Blake.”

“You’ve
certainly proved that.” Mercer said nothing. There was a loud bang from outside
as something broke loose in the wind. Glory cried out, startled. Neither man
moved. “It’s okay, baby,” Sharon said.

“So what do we
do now?” Blake said.

“You let the girl
go with her mother. You keep the notebook.”

“And then?”

“The girl and
her mother head for the lighthouse. They hole up there until the
storm’s
over.” Downstairs, they heard the sound of
shattering glass.

“What about
you?” Blake said.
“More important, what about me?”

“Oh, you and I
stay here.”

“What if I
just kill her now?” Blake pushed the barrel of the pistol a little tighter
against Glory’s temple. She whimpered in fear.

“I kill you,”
Sharon said.

“You?”
Blake scoffed. “You’re a waitress.”

“Try me,”
Sharon said. “The fact you’ve got your filthy hands on her means your life is
hanging by a thread as it is.”

“And if she
kills you,” Mercer said, “I have the notebook. And whatever’s in it that you’re
willing to kill for.”

“Actually,”
Blake said, “What I’m willing to kill for is money.”

“Are you
willing to die for it?”

“I guess not.
But how do I know you won’t just kill me if I let the girl go?”

“I give you my
word. I won’t kill you.”

“That’s
supposed to reassure me?”

“It should. I
never break my word.
Never.”

The house
shuddered and groaned. Hours of pounding by wind and water had taken their
toll. The place was beginning to come apart.

“What about
her?” Blake said. He jerked his head back towards where Sharon stood behind
him.

Mercer raised
his voice. “Sharon,” he said. “Give him your word.”

Her voice was
tight with fury. “I’m not sure I can do that, Kyle. He’s the one behind all
this.”

“No, Mercer
said. “He’s not. He’s working for someone else. He’s just a grunt.
An errand boy.”

“Thanks,”
Blake said.

Mercer ignored
him. “And if you don’t,” Mercer said, “We’ve got nothing to bargain with. He
dies, but so does Glory.”

“What if I
just shoot him now?”

“You can’t
guarantee he won’t get a shot off before he falls. Trust me, Sharon.” He smiled
grimly. “You’re pretty good for a beginner. But this is the kind of thing I
know a lot better than you.”

Sharon didn’t
answer. The house shuddered again as something heavy crashed against it,
then
there was a loud, high pitched whistling as the wind found
its way in through a shattered door or window. Mercer felt his ears pop as the
air pressure in the house changed.

“Sharon,” he
said again. “It’s the only way.”

“Okay,” Sharon
said. “Okay. I give my word. Give me my daughter and I won’t kill you.”

Blake laughed.
“I’m supposed to believe you?”

“What’s your
alternative?” Mercer said. “You’re alone. You’ve got one card to play, and
that’s killing the girl. But what happens if you play it? You take a chance if
you let her go. But it’s the only chance you have.”

There was a
gargantuan ripping sound above them and a mighty crash in the yard outside.
“You better decide now,” Mercer said, “or this storm’s going to decide for
you.”

Abruptly,
Blake released his arm from around Glory’s neck. He grabbed her by one shoulder
and pushed her forward. She stumbled towards Mercer, weeping.

“Stop,” Mercer
said. She drew up short, confused.

“Get out of my
line of fire, Glory,” Mercer said.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

The rain
blowing in his face shocked
Bohler
back to semi-consciousness.
He was outside. He couldn’t tell where or why. He felt something tug at the
back of the flight suit it seemed like he’d been wearing for a thousand years,
felt his feet slide along a slick surface. Though the fog in his head he realized
he was being dragged.
Dragged through the rain.
Dragged through the…storm.

He snapped
fully awake. He reached up and grabbed at the hands that had him by the neck of
the flight suit.

“Ah good,” a
tired voice said. “You’re awake.” The hands released their grip.
Bohler
sat up, struggling to stay upright in the wind.

They were on
the railed balcony that ran around the outside of the lantern room. The wind
raged around them like a mad thing, wailing and whistling in the
criss-cross
bracing of the glass walls and around the
chromed supports of the railing. He tried to focus on Phillips. The Englishman
was standing over him, a pistol pointed at his forehead.

“Stand up,
please,” Phillips said.

Bohler
blinked. He was so weary, the very
thought of trying to stand was like being asked to flap his arms and fly to the
moon. “Why?” he asked eventually.

“Because I’m
going to throw you over the railing,” Phillips said. “I’m going to throw you
off the lighthouse.”

*** 

Blake raised
his gun, pointed it at Mercer. “You said you never go back on your word.”

“I’m not,”
Mercer said. “I’m just making sure you don’t go back on yours.” He had his own
weapon pointed at the center mass of Blake’s body. “Glory,” he said, “go to
your mother.”

The girl
ducked under the line of fire of the raised weapons, then ran towards Sharon.
Sharon lowered her pistol and took her daughter in her arms. They were both
crying.

“Very
touching,” Blake said.
“Now what?”

Mercer raised
his voice. “Go,” he said to Sharon and Glory. “Get to the lighthouse.”

“What about
you?” Sharon said.

“I’ll be along
in a minute,” Mercer said. “I just want to make sure Mr. Blake here doesn’t try
to pull anything.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

Bohler
looked over the edge. They were
halfway around the lighthouse, and he could see both the island side and the
seaward side, where the angry ocean crashed and boomed on the rocks below.

“Fuck it,”
Bohler
said. “Just shoot me.”

“Ah, but if I
do that, and your body is discovered with bullets in it, then there’ll be all
sorts of uncomfortable questions.
Whereas, people die by
accident all the time in hurricanes.”

“I know,”
Bohler
said. “I saw the PowerPoint. Tell me, though. Why
the hell should I make life any easier for you?”

“Because
if you don’t,” Phillips said, “I won’t just shoot you in the head and be done.
I’ll shoot you in the legs first.
One, then the other.
Then the elbows.
Then…I trust you get the idea.”

“Yeah,”
Bohler
said. “I get it.”

“Really,
Deputy,” Phillips said. “Did you think I was just going to sit back and let you
send me to prison for killing those people in the helicopter? Let’s see, an FBI
agent, an entire Coast Guard crew…I’m thinking that’s quite a few death
sentences there.”

“Probably.”

“So you’ll
forgive me if I don’t just accept that fate.”

“What about
Mercer?”

“Mercer has no
reason to turn me in. I imagine there are quite a few people who’d like to fit
him for a noose. If we’re the only people left alive…and I strongly suspect
that will be the case…I’m thinking we can come to some sort of understanding.”

“Well,”
Bohler
said bitterly, “looks like you’ve got it all figured
out.”

Philips
smiled. “I do, actually. Count your blessings, Deputy. It’s not many of us who
get to choose whether they die easy or hard.”

“Sorry if I
don’t seem more appreciative.”
Bohler
started to
struggle to his feet. He slipped in the water on the slick metal deck and fell
back down. Then he noticed Phillips' face. He was looking over
Bohler’s
head, transfixed. He whispered something to
himself that
Bohler
couldn’t hear over the wind.
Bohler
turned and looked back over the island.

A massive
white funnel cloud had formed over the sea. Gargantuan, impossibly huge,
swollen with the seawater it had drawn greedily into itself, it advanced,
slowly but inexorably, on the middle of the island. When it made landfall it
would destroy everything in its path. And one of the things in its path,
Bohler
realized, was the Buchan mansion.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

“After all
we’ve been through,” Blake said sardonically, “you still don’t trust me.”

“Nope,” Mercer
said. “Sure as shit don’t. Now go on.”

“Kyle,” Glory
called. “Please come with us.”

“Do as I say,
girl!” Mercer snapped. Incredibly, the wind was getting louder. There was
another sound rising above it, a sound like a dozen freight trains bearing
down.

“Hear that?”
Mercer said to Blake. A smile slowly spread over his face.

“What?” Sharon
yelled over the roar.

Mercer began
to chuckle. “God laughs,” he shouted at Blake. “Can you hear it?”

“What the fuck
are you talking about?” Blake said. He was yelling, too.

“Sharon!
Glory!”
Mercer barked. “Run! Get out!”

“What? Why?”
Glory yelled, but Sharon was already pulling her toward the stairs. “Kyle!” she
yelled. “Come on!”

“GO, damn it!”
They stumbled away, down the stairs. Mercer never took his eyes or his weapon
off Blake. The roaring outside grew louder.

***

Bohler
looked back at Phillips. He was still
staring, mesmerized. He seemed to have utterly forgotten
Bohler
.
With the strength of utter desperation,
Bohler
lashed
out with his booted foot, aiming for Phillips’ kneecap. It only took eight
pounds of pressure to shatter a kneecap,
Bohler
remembered reading, and he tried to put everything he had into the kick. His
foot connected solidly and Phillips’ left knee broke with a sickening crunch.
Phillips screamed and collapsed, clutching at his knee with his free hand. He
never lost his grip on the pistol.
Bohler
was on him,
grappling at Phillips’ wrist with his right hand. He grabbed Phillips by the
throat with his left and slammed his head against the metal decking. Phillips
snarled and punched at
Bohler’s
midsection.
Bohler
gasped as one of the punches connected. He slammed
Phillips’ head against the deck again. The wind raged around them as they
fought.
Another punch to the midsection, another slam of
Phillips’ head against the deck.
There was no finesse, no skill to the
battle anymore, just a primal contest to see who could take the most
punishment.

***

“Tornado!”
Blake yelled. “We need to get under…”

“God laughs,
Blake!” Mercer shouted. Blake stared at Mercer, uncomprehending. He started to
move, but Mercer motioned with the gun for him to stay put. The floor beneath
them was shuddering.

“Mercer,
for Christ’s sake!”
Blake screamed.

Mercer didn’t
move. He had a smile plastered on his face. “The people who run this island
fuck over the help. The people who live here fuck each other over. You fuck
your own people over. The people above you are working some giant fuck-over
none of us understand. And above it all, Blake, while you’re making all these
plans and while everyone’s trying to get over on everyone else, God laughs. Can
you hear Him? God! Fucking!
Laughs!”