“This way!” shouted Knox, running to the car.
Chapter One Hundred and Thirteen
Bennie gripped the handstrap, and the helicopter left behind the funky architecture and neon lights of Miami. Her hair flew around her face, and she sat pitched forward, looking down through the windshield. The wind buffeted them, the engine rattled in her ears, and the rotors whined at a high pitch. The clouds shifted, and the moon popped into view, shining on a ripple of black water, making whitecaps like a strand of pearls.
The pilot was an older man who knew the heavyset guy from the airport, and Bennie didn’t know more than that about him. He seemed to know what he was doing, his hands moving expertly over the console, with its instruments, gauges, and dials, their colorful numbers glowing disembodied in the dark.
She tried to figure out Alice’s next move. The girl was probably on her way to the Bahamas, if not there already. She must have flown private. The credit cards didn’t get canceled tonight because everybody had been so busy. She wondered if the FBI had called down to the Bahamas. She had no ID, no passport, and no idea how she’d get onto the island.
“Change of plans!” the pilot shouted, to be heard. “Can’t land at L.P.”
“What?”
“Lyden Pindling, the Nassau airport. Gotta take you to another island. Get the ferry to Nassau tomorrow morning.”
“No, I have to get to Nassau tonight. That’s the deal.”
“Too bad. They closed the airport.”
“Can’t you land somewhere else on the island?”
“That’ll cost you.”
“I have the cash. You saw it.”
“Roger that. Hang on, blondie.”
Blondie. It was who Bennie had become. Otherwise, she didn’t know who she was anymore. She used to fight for the law, and now she was an outlaw. She was about to enter a country illegally.
And her intent was to kill.
Chapter One Hundred and Fourteen
Alice and Knox ran to the car, amid mass confusion. Sirens blared everywhere. Smoke fogged the air. A loudspeaker barked. Airport personnel in reflective vests bolted toward the fires. At the limo stand stood a black Town Car, with its front door and trunk open.
“No driver!” Alice called out, reaching the driver’s side. She caught a glint of keys in the ignition. “He left the keys. Get in.”
Knox slammed the trunk closed, then jumped into the passenger seat.
Alice twisted the keys in the ignition and hit the gas. She sped out of the lot as police cruisers sped directly toward them in the same lane.
“Move over!” Knox yelled. “We drive on the other side!”
Alice steered into the other lane. “Tell me how to get out of here.”
“Go left.” Knox pointed, and Alice took the turn, then zoomed for the exit gate just as a red fire truck raced toward them, its headlights blinding. She veered around the fire truck and hit the main road leaving the airport, then reached a fork.
“Where now?”
“Right, then left.” Knox pointed again.
Alice zoomed onto a side road and kept driving until the car rental places and businesses disappeared. She found herself in a neighborhood of small, run-down houses, their pastel hues faded and peeling. People were going to their cars and into the street to see what was happening at the airport, so she kept driving until she spotted a clearing with a dirt road. She pulled over, stopped the car, and looked over at Knox, who looked nervous in the lights from the dashboard.
“Now you gotta step up,” Alice said. “I need an employee at BSB. You have to find me one.”
“I know no one.”
“Think harder. You have to know someone who knows someone.”
“How much is it worth to you?” Knox’s eyes glittered. “I know you’ve got more in that bag.”
“Five grand.”
“Twenty.”
“Ten.”
“Fifteen.”
Alice faked a smile. “Don’t push me.”
“Fine.” Knox paused. “My cousin’s friend might know someone, but I’m not sure.”
“Then make the call.”
Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen
Bennie spotted an orangey brightness blazing in the distance as the helicopter began its uneven descent. She couldn’t tell what it was, but it didn’t matter. The pilot flicked a switch, and a bright cone of white light shone from the helicopter onto an empty lot strewn with rubble, weeds, and broken glass.
She held on to the handstrap as the ground got closer. Winds swirled, whipping bugs into the spotlight, and the helicopter hovered, seesawing, then touched down. The pilot flashed her a thumbs-up and twisted a knob. The rotors slowed, and the whine died down and finally disappeared. The helicopter shuddered as its engine shut down.
The pilot slid off his earphones, with a broad grin. “It’s better in the Bahamas.”
“Where are we?”
“Adelaide, southwest of Nassau. The land belongs to a friend of mine. I’ll be staying here tonight, at his place.” The pilot turned. “Did you see that fire at the airport? Looks like a disaster.”
Bennie mulled it over. An airport fire. Was Alice here? Was it a coincidence? “I have to get into Nassau, fast.”
“My buddy and I can give you a lift there. It’s half an hour by car. We got another friend, runs an all-night poker game.”
“Then let’s go.” Bennie grabbed her purse, opened the rattly door, and climbed out of the helicopter as the pilot came around the other side, holding a canvas bag.
“Watch your step. Lots of crab holes around here. You’ll see the shells, lying around. Purple, red, black ones.”
Bennie saw a hole, but no crab shells. The lot was dark, and the only light came from a dilapidated clapboard house, a hundred yards away. “Is that your friend’s place?”
“Yeah. Take my hand. Don’t walk into a tree, there’s plum and sea grapes. That’s what you smell.”
Bennie didn’t smell anything, and she didn’t come here for the flora and fauna. “Listen, there’s one other thing I need.”
“Sure, what?”
She told the pilot, and he didn’t seem at all surprised.
Chapter One Hundred and Sixteen
Alice set the gun on the seat, near the door, while Knox talked on his cell phone to his cousin. They sat in the dark parking lot of a Chen’s Food Store, a run-down affair. The store was closed so the lot was empty, but the streets buzzed with traffic heading to the airport. A light blue police cruiser tore past, its red lights flashing, then a gray cruiser with a crown on the door, which read CENTRAL POLICE. Every cop on the Bahamas had to be at the airport, and the sirens blared continuously.
“Oh, you’re at FirstBank now?” Knox was saying. “Congratulations, Letty. Auntie Jane didn’t mention it.”
Alice whispered, “Ask her for someone who’s still there. Get a name.”
Knox said into the phone, “Letty, do you know anyone still there? You in touch with anyone? It’s important.”
Alice fished in the console and found a pen and pad with the name of the limo company.
“Who? Say again. Sure, I remember her. Do you have a phone number and address?” Knox read off the information, and Alice wrote it down. “Thanks, Letty. Love to all.” He flipped the phone closed. “The name’s Julie Cosgrove. I know her.”
“How?” Alice set down the paper and turned the key in the ignition.
“We went to high school together. She had a crush on me.”
“How do we get to her house?”
“It’s near Cable, on the way to Nassau.”
“Let’s go. Direct me.”
“Do you want to call first?”
“No, better to drop in.”
“Take the first right, then.” Knox opened the cell phone. “I must call my wife. What can I tell her?”
“Tell her you’re helping at the airport. You’ll be home by morning.” Alice pressed the gas and steered out of the parking lot. She
logged the address into the car’s navigation system, and a white arrow popped onto a screen that was affixed to the dashboard.
“Turn right in three hundred feet,” said the soft, mechanical voice.
Chapter One Hundred and Seventeen
Bennie stood in front of an AK-47, an M3, two 30-30 hunting rifles, and three revolvers, all of which were arrayed on a grimy blanket on the ground, like a makeshift display case.
“Not much of a selection, eh?” the pilot asked, and the other man, John Something, chuckled.
“Like I said, it ain’t Newark.” He was a stocky young American with a shaved head and a neck tattoo that read Johnny Angel, and he had on an old-fashioned surfer T-shirt with jeans. The cinder-block shed belonged to him, and it was crammed with old lawn mowers, harrows, bush hogs, and an ancient tractor, its hood cracked open like a crab shell.
“How much is this one?” Bennie asked, picking up the Smith & Wesson. It was an older model, probably a forerunner of her own, which she kept at home in a gun safe, trigger lock and all. She’d never fired hers outside of a lesson, but it had been easy to kill the bad-guy silhouette that would come zipping up to her, his paper heart tattered into a busted star.
“The S&W?” Johnny Angel said. “Three hundred.”
“Fair enough.” Bennie dug the cash out of her purse, counted it off, and handed it over.
“You got six bullets in there. You need more?”
“If I do, I’m in trouble.”
“Ha!” Johnny Angel laughed, and the pilot clapped him on the back.
“Thanks, man. Wanna come out with me and Tomboy? He’s in the car.”
“What’s he doin’, smokin’ up?”
“What do you think?”
“Nah.” Johnny Angel clucked, rubbing his grizzled chin. “I’m clean and sober, two and a half years.”
“Ha! Old married man, eh?”
“You got that right.” Johnny Angel chuckled again, but Bennie had slid the gun into her purse and was waiting at the door.
“You guys good to go?” she asked.
Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen
Alice stood behind Knox while he rang the doorbell of a modest house of yellow stucco. The windows were dark, and in the driveway was an old Neon with a BABY ON BOARD sign. The air smelled fragrant from a flower garden that filled the front yard, and tiny plastic starlights lit the walkway.
Alice poked Knox in the back. “Ring again.”
Knox pushed the bell, and it rang just as a light went on in the second floor.
“Stick to the script,” Alice said under her breath. In the next minute, a light went on beside the front door and a woman’s face appeared in its window.
“Julie, it’s Knox Balderston. Remember me? Can you let me in?”
“Knox?” The door opened, and Julie Cosgrove stood there in a white bathrobe. She was short, overweight, and had plain features, her dark skin pitted on her cheeks. Her hair was pulled back in a stiff ponytail, which she patted self-consciously as she smiled. “Hey, how’ve you been? Why’re you here at this hour?”
“This is my friend, Bennie, and we have to talk to you about something. Please, can we come in?” Knox made a praying-hands, and Julie opened the door and backed up into her neat little living room.
“Been a long time. I see Letty in the market sometimes and she tells me you’re doing well.”
“I am, thanks. You, too?”
“So far, so good, now that I divorced Joey.”
“I knew he wasn’t good enough for you.”
“Why’n’t you tell me?” Julie shot back, and they both laughed as she gestured them into a blue patterned sofa and chairs. “Here, please.”
“Letty says you got promoted at BSB.” Knox sat down, and Alice followed suit.
“Yes.” Julie nodded, with pride. “I’m unit manager now.”
“Good, good,” Knox said, and Alice lost patience with the soft sell. She leaned forward in the chair.
“Julie, I’m Bennie Rosato, and Knox and I are friends. I’m getting divorced, too, and I transferred all my money into your bank, to keep it away from my ex, who cheated on me. I want to withdraw it tomorrow morning, but I think my bank in the U.S. is going to freeze my accounts, because he wants to try to get the money, as alimony.”
“My.” Julie frowned, taken aback.
“Can I stop that from happening? We’re talking about three million dollars.”
Julie’s dark eyes flared. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, very.”
“You’re in private banking, then. Which bank is it, in the U.S.?”
“USABank, in Philadelphia.”
“I believe they’re a partner bank with us, are they not?”
“Yes, they are.”
“That makes it easier, if one’s goal is to prevent us from freezing the accounts. Your bank, USABank, has probably already emailed us a request to put a hold on the account, because it originates with them. If one wanted to be sure that the message didn’t get to us, one could intercept the email and delete it.”
“How would you do that?”
“It’s not difficult.” Julie paused, thinking. “Simply put, that sort of email comes in to a special account, and I have access to that account. All managers do. One could just go in and delete the email. Or it could be forwarded to the wrong department, and that would delay it until somebody figures out the mistake.”
Bingo.
“In fact, that happened the other day. We didn’t get a request for a transfer of funds because a manager forwarded the email to the wrong Christine. We have three Christines, upstairs. It was supposed to go to Christine G. but it went to Christine K.” Julie looked sheepish. “Needless to say, our president wasn’t happy.”
“Look, I need you to do this for me, and I’m willing to pay you very well.”
“No.” Julie shook her head. “This is against procedure.”
Knox patted her knee. “Can’t you help us, Julie?”
“Julie, please, woman-to-woman. It’s my money, and I only want to keep what’s mine. Look, here’s proof.” Alice reached in her messenger bag, found the wallet and passport, and handed them over to Julie, who examined them and handed them back.
“It’s still improper.”
“But not illegal. It’s not theft, since it’s mine.”
“The bank would never let you withdraw the full amount on such short notice, anyway.”
Alice wasn’t taking no for an answer. “But you could wire it to another bank, couldn’t you, the same way it was wired to BSB?”
“Yes, of course, if you requested it.”
“Then that’s what I request, to intercept the freeze on the accounts, to fund my account tonight, and to transfer the money out immediately to a bank in Switzerland or someplace like that, where he can’t get it.” Alice paused for effect. “If you help me, I’ll pay you $50,000.”
Julie’s mouth dropped open. “That’s a year’s salary!”
“You’ll see, it can be yours in a few hours.”
Knox nodded. “Do it, Jules. I am, and she’s good for it. We’re in it together, and if you do it by forwarding the email to the wrong department, like you said, nobody will be the wiser. You can keep your job and the money.”
Julie was thinking it over, her forehead wrinkling as she glanced at Knox, and Alice could see she had to close the deal, fast.
“It’s a good plan, Julie. Knox is right. It’s a lot of money, and if you have a child, you can use it, right?”
“How do you know I have a child?” Julie’s frown reappeared, and Alice worried she’d said the wrong thing.
“On your car, I saw a BABY ON BOARD sign.”
Julie fell oddly silent.
Knox brightened. “You have a child, Jules? I have three sons.”
Julie managed a smile. “I have one. James is his name, James Albert. He’s two and a half years old.”
“Where is he?” Knox glanced upstairs. “Asleep?”
&
nbsp; Alice realized that there were no toys around the well-kept living room and they hadn’t awakened a baby when they’d rung the bell.
Julie answered, “He’s in the hospital, going on his third week. He’s got leukemia.”
“Oh, no.” Knox touched Julie’s knee again. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m praying for the best. The doctors say I should keep up hope.” Julie sighed heavily, and Alice saw her opening.
“Well, then, don’t you want the best medical care that money can buy? It can make all the difference in the world, can’t it? If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for him.”
And Julie blinked.
Chapter One Hundred and Nineteen
Bennie bounced in the backseat of the Jeep as it jostled down one dirt road, then another, heading toward town. The pilot and the driver were talking in low tones, and she leaned over, dug in her purse, and pulled out her bag of pills, then swallowed the last one dry. She tossed the baggie aside.
“Here comes another,” the driver said, pulling over as a car sped past. “Woohoo. Lots o’ excitement. Something actually happening, besides the friggin’ cruise ships.”
“Breaking news,” the pilot said, and they laughed.
Honk! Honk! beeped a horn, from a car behind them, then it flashed its high beams and zoomed past. Cars and trucks had been flying by all evening, speeding toward the airport, reservists and volunteers going to help.
“Can you put on the radio?” Bennie asked. “I’m curious what’s going on.”
The driver accelerated onto the road behind the red taillights, which were disappearing into the distance. The radio came on, the stations being scanned, then song fragments, and the news.
The male announcer said, “The status of the fire has been upgraded, and many of the first responders have been taken to the hospital, suffering from heat exhaustion. Authorities report that nine private jets and a truck loaded with jet fuel have been destroyed in a series of explosions. However, police decline to speculate that terrorists may be the culprit—”