Authors: William Diehl
Tags: #Vietnam War, #War stories, #Espionage, #Vietnam War; 1961-1975, #Fiction - Espionage, #Modern & contemporary fiction (post c 1945), #Fiction, #Spy stories, #Vietnamese Conflict; 1961-1975, #Suspense, #Adventure, #Thrillers, #Military, #Crime & Thriller, #Intrigue, #Thriller, #History
‘Am I gonna be getting you out of trouble for the rest of eternity?’ Cirillo said, stepping out of the shadows.
He held his weapon in the crook of his arm.
Ginia
sagged into Hatcher’s arms.
‘Where did you come from?’ Hatcher said with a sigh.
‘Saw Old Bob Hill up at the Big T. He saw this Oriental gentleman follow you in last night, so I decided to check him out. Pretty smart guy. He came in to Jacksonville on the plane
ahead
of you, rented a car, then waited until you arrived and followed you up here. You’re getting awful reckless in your old age,’ Ciril
l
o said.
‘I thought he was dead,’ Hatcher said simply.
‘He is now,’ Cirillo answered, looking down at Fong’s body, which had rolled over face
down in the water. ‘Can I assume this is one of the bad guys?’
‘The worst.’
‘So how do we explain this to the rest of the world?’ Ci
r
il
l
o asked.
Hatcher pulled in the line until Fong’s lifeless body was a foot or so off the stern and tightened it around the rail hitch.
‘We don’t,’ Hatcher answered.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Trust me on this, Jimmy. This guy doesn’t even deserve six feet of earth. I’m going to make a run out to the reef and feed the fish.’
Cirillo stared at his friend for a long time, perhaps a full minute. He reached in his pocket and took out a set of car keys and held them up.
‘He was planning a fast getaway,’ said Cirillo. ‘Left the keys in the car. Rental papers are in the glove compartment. It was prepaid by credit card. I think maybe I’ll just drive it down the Jax airport and drop the keys on the desk.’
‘Thanks, Jimmy. Believe me, you did the world a favor putting a bullet in him.’
Cirillo stared down at the soggy form floating face down behind the big boat. He lit a cigarette with a
match, which he flicked into the ‘water. ‘Gimme
a
call when you g
e
t back.’
‘I’ll do that,’ Hatcher said. He stepped into the cockpit, and eased the throttles forward.
Hatcher put his arm around Gi
n
ia and drew her close to him. ‘You okay?’
‘I
. . .
think.
. .
so.’
‘Good.’
‘I think maybe we need to talk about this one,’ she said.
He smiled and said, ‘I think maybe you’re right,’ and pulling her closer to him, he shoved the throttles forward and the big boat streaked out into the sound with its ugly cargo dragging through the water behind it, past the now empty pier, past the friendly finger of light from the lighthouse, out to the open sea toward the reef.
THE END