“Lower your voice! Come on! Let’s get to the room and get cleaned up. We can talk more there.”
Confused at Daniel’s behavior, Stephanie let herself be guided outside onto the walkway, but after a few steps, she stopped. She again took her arm out of Daniel’s grasp and shook her head. “I don’t understand. We saw a man get shot, and he’s seriously injured. An ambulance and the police have to be called.”
“Keep your voice down!” Daniel urged. He glanced around, thankful no one was in earshot. “That thug is dead. You saw the back of his head. People don’t recover from that kind of injury.”
“All the more reason to call the police. We witnessed a murder, for God’s sake, right in front of our faces.”
“True, but we sure as hell didn’t see who did it, nor do we have the slightest clue who could’ve done it. There was a shot, and the guy fell down. We saw nothing except the victim fall: no people and no vehicles! We were eyewitnesses only to the fact that the man was shot, which certainly will be clear to the police without our help.”
“But we still witnessed a murder.”
“But we would not be able to add anything from having seen it. That’s the point. Think about it!”
“Hold on here!” Stephanie said, trying to organize her chaotic thoughts. “What you are saying may be true, but as I understand it, it’s a crime not to report witnessing a crime, and we definitely saw a crime.”
“I have no idea whether keeping quiet is a crime or not here in the Bahamas. But even if it is, I think we should take the risk of committing it, because at this moment in time, I don’t want us to be involved with the police. On top of that, I have zero sympathy for the victim, which I suspect is your feeling as well. Not only was he the one who beat me up, he was threatening to kill me, for Christ’s sake, and maybe you too. My worry is that if we go to the police and get drawn into a murder investigation, which we will not be able to aid in any way, we’ll risk putting the Butler project in jeopardy, and we are so close to finishing. The long and short of it is that we’d be risking everything for nothing. It’s as simple as that.”
Stephanie nodded a few times and ran a nervous hand through her hair. “I suppose I see your point,” she said reluctantly. “But let me ask you this: You thought my brother was involved when you were beat up. Do you think he was involved this time?”
“Your brother had to be implicated in the first instance. But this time, I have my doubts, since the thug didn’t keep you out of it like he obviously did on the previous occasion. Yet who’s to know for sure?”
Stephanie stared off into the distance. Her mind and emotions were a jumble. Once again, she felt conflicted concerning what she should do, thanks to a strong sense of guilt. Ultimately, she felt responsible for involving her brother, who had involved the Castiglianos, who certainly had now proved themselves to be mobsters.
“Come on!” Daniel urged. “Let’s go to the room and clean up. We can talk some more if you’d like, but I have to tell you, my mind is made up.”
Stephanie allowed herself to be guided along the pathway toward their suite. She felt almost numb. Although she was hardly saintly, she’d never knowingly broken the law. It was a strange sensation to think of herself as some sort of miscreant because she failed to report a felony. Equally strange was the thought that her brother was involved with people capable of murder, especially since such an association gave a whole new meaning to his racketeering indictment. Adding to her agitation were the residual physiological effects of having witnessed violence. She could feel herself trembling, and her stomach was doing flip-flops. She had never seen a dead person, much less one killed in front of her in such a graphic manner.
Stephanie shook off a wave of nausea at the horrid image now etched for life into her memory. She wished she was anyplace but where she was. From the moment Daniel had suggested surreptitiously treating Butler, she had thought it was a bad idea, but never in her wildest imagination did she think it could have gotten as bad as it was. Yet she was caught in the affair as if it were a bog of quicksand, sinking in deeper and deeper, unable to get out.
Daniel was feeling progressively more confident about his decision. At first he’d not been so sure, but that had changed when his memory of Professor Heinrich Wortheim’s prophecy of disaster came back to haunt him. Daniel had vowed from the outset that he was not going to fail, and to avoid failure, Butler had to be treated, meaning entanglement with the police had to be avoided. Since he and Stephanie would be the only leads associated with the murder, if not outright suspects, even a slipshod investigation would invariably involve what they were doing in Nassau. At that point, Butler would have to be apprised of the situation, because after his arrival, his involvement would most likely be discovered in the course of the inquiry, which would ignite a media firestorm. With the threat of such a scenario, Daniel doubted Butler would come at all.
When they got to their suite, Daniel keyed open the door. Stephanie went in first and turned on the lights. The turndown service had come and gone, and the room was the picture of tranquility. The drapes were closed, classical music issued softly from the bedside radio, and the beds were prepared, with candies on the pillows. Daniel secured the door using all the locks.
Stephanie lifted her dress to look at her knee. She was relieved that her injury wasn’t as bad as suggested by the amount of blood, which by now had run all the way down into her shoe. Daniel checked his own knee by dropping his pants. Similar to Stephanie’s wound, he had an abrasion the diameter of a golf ball. Both injuries had some embedded seashell fragments, which they knew had to come out or there would be an infection.
“I feel awfully jittery,” Daniel admitted. He stepped out of his pants before holding out his hand. It shook as if he was shivering. “It must be the adrenaline rush. Let’s open a bottle of wine while we draw a bath. We should soak these abrasions, and the combination of wine and bath should calm us both down.”
“Okay,” Stephanie said. A bath might help her think more clearly. “I’ll run the tub. You get the wine!” She turned on the hot water full-blast after adding some bath salts to the tub. The room quickly filled with steam. Within minutes, the aroma and the soothing sound of the rushing water had a calming effect on her. When she emerged from the bathroom in a hotel robe to tell Daniel the bath was ready, she felt significantly recovered. Daniel was sitting on the couch with the yellow pages open on his lap. There were two glasses of red wine on the coffee table. Stephanie picked one of them up and took a sip.
“I’ve had another thought,” Daniel said. “Obviously, these Castigliano people were not as impressed as I hoped about the reassuring conversations you’ve been having with your mother.”
“We can’t be sure my brother told the Castiglianos what we wanted him to.”
“Whatever,” Daniel said with a wave of his hand. “The point is, they sent this thug down here to do me in and maybe you. They are unhappy people, to say the least. We don’t know how long it will take for them to learn that their henchman isn’t coming back. Nor can we guess what their reaction will be when they do learn it. For all we know, they’ll think we killed him.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“We use Butler’s money to hire twenty-four-hour armed security. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a legitimate expense, and it’s only for a week and a half, two weeks tops.”
Stephanie sighed with resignation. “Are there any listings in the phone book?”
“Yeah, there are quite a few. What do you think?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Stephanie admitted.
“I think we need some professional protection.”
“All right, if you say so,” Stephanie said. “But it might be more important for us to start being even more careful in general than we have been. No more walks in the dark. I mean, what were we thinking?”
“In retrospect, it was foolish, considering my having been beaten up and warned.”
“What about the b
ath? Do you want to get in first? It’s ready.”
“No, you go ahead. I’ll make some calls to these agencies. The sooner we have someone, the better I’ll feel.”
Ten minutes later, Daniel came into the bathroom to sit on the edge of the tub. He was still sipping his wine. Stephanie was up to her neck in sudsy water, and her wineglass was empty.
“Do you feel better?” Daniel asked.
“Much. How did you do on the phone?”
“Good. Someone will be here in a half hour to be interviewed. It’s a company called First Security. They were recommended by the hotel.”
“I’ve been trying to think of who could have shot that guy. We haven’t voiced it, but he was like our savior.” Stephanie stood and wrapped herself in a towel and stepped out of the tub. “It had to be someone who was a damn good shot. And how did he happen to be there just when we needed him? It was like Father Maloney at the Turin airport but ten times more critical.”
“Do you have any ideas?”
“Only one, but it is far-fetched.”
“I’m listening.” Daniel felt the bathwater and began adding more hot.
“Butler. Maybe he’s had the FBI keep an eye on us for our own protection.”
Daniel laughed as he got into the tub. “That would be ironic.”
“Do you have any better ideas?”
“Not one,” Daniel admitted. “Unless it had something to do with your brother. Maybe he sent someone down here to watch over you.”
Now Stephanie laughed in spite of herself. “That’s even more far-fetched than my idea!”
As the nighttime security supervisor, Bruno Debianco was accustomed to calls from his boss, Kurt Hermann. The man had no life other than as head of Wingate security, and since he lived on the grounds, he was always around hassling Bruno with all sorts of minor requests and orders. Some of them were unexpected and ridiculous, but tonight’s took the cake. A little after ten, Kurt had called on his cell phone to instruct Bruno to drive one of the black Wingate vans out to Paradise Island. The destination was to be the Huntington Hartford cloister. Bruno was only supposed to stop if the road was clear, and if it was clear, he was to turn off his headlights before slowing down. Once stopped, he was supposed to walk up to the cloister but avoid stepping into the light. At that point, Kurt would accost him.
Bruno waited for the traffic light to turn green before accelerating up onto the bridge leading to Paradise Island. Never had he been ordered to leave the Wingate Clinic on a mystery mission, and what made it particularly strange was the request to bring a body bag. Bruno tried to think of what possibly could have happened, but nothing came to mind other than the trouble Kurt had gotten into in Okinawa. Bruno had served with Kurt in the Army’s Special Forces and knew the man had a love-hate reaction to whores. It had been an obsession that had suddenly erupted into a personal vendetta on the Japanese island. Bruno had never quite understood it, and he hoped he wasn’t currently being drawn into a recrudescence of that problem. He and Kurt had a good thing going with Spencer Wingate and Paul Saunders, and Bruno didn’t want it to get screwed up. If Kurt had started up his old crusade, it was going to be a problem.
The main east-west road that ran along Paradise Island had moderate traffic, but it dropped off after Bruno passed the shopping areas. It dropped off even more after the first few hotels, and after the turnoff to the Ocean Club, it was deserted. Following orders, Bruno switched off the lights as he neared the cloister. With the moonlight and the white stripe in the middle of the road, he had no problem driving in the dark.
Passing the final coppice of trees, the illuminated cloister came into view on Bruno’s right. He pulled across the road into a shoulder parking area and stopped the car. He turned off the engine and got out. To his left, he could see down the hill to the Ocean Club’s lighted pool.
Bruno went around to the back of the van and opened the rear door. He pulled out the folded body bag, and with it under his arm, he mounted the steps leading up to the cloister. Before he got into the light, he stopped. Ahead, the cloister was deserted. His eyes scanned the surrounding area, trying to peer into the darkness of the trees. He was about to call out Kurt’s name when the man materialized out of the shadows to Bruno’s right. Like Bruno, he was dressed in black and almost invisible. He waved for Bruno to follow him and said, “Move it!”
With the moonlight, it was fairly easy for Bruno to walk, but once they were within the trees, it was a different story. After a few steps, he stopped. “I can’t see a blasted thing.”
“You don’t have to,” Kurt said quietly. “We’re here. Did you bring the body bag?”
“Yeah.”
“Unzip it and help me load it up!”
Bruno did as he was told. Gradually his eyes adjusted, and he could make out Kurt’s form. He also could see the vague outline of the body on the ground. Bruno extended the end of the body bag toward Kurt, who took it and stepped down to the corpse’s feet. Together they pulled it taut, placed it on the ground, and folded back the edges.
“On three,” Kurt said. “But watch the head. It’s a little messy.”
Bruno got his hands under the corpse’s armpits, and at the appropriate moment lifted the torso while Kurt lifted the legs.
“Good grief!” Bruno grunted. “Who is this guy, an exlineman for the Chicago Bears?”
Kurt didn’t answer. The two of them got the body into the bag, and Kurt drew up the zipper from the foot.
“Don’t tell me we have to carry this two-ton guy down to the van,” Bruno said. The idea was daunting.
“We’re not leaving him here. Run down and open the van’s back door. When we get down there, I don’t want there to be any delay getting him inside.”
A few minutes later, they shoved Gaetano’s upper body, encased in the body bag, into the van. To get the rest in, Bruno had to climb in himself and pull while Kurt pushed. Both were winded when they were finished.
“So far so good,” Kurt commented, as he closed the door. “Let’s get out of here before our luck runs out and someone drives by.”
Bruno went around to the driver’s side and got in. Kurt put his black rucksack in the backseat before climbing into the front passenger side. Bruno started the engine. “Where to?” he asked.
“The Ocean Club’s parking lot,” Kurt said. “The guy had keys to a rent-a-car Jeep in his pocket. I want to find it.”
Bruno made a quick U-turn before switching on his headlights. They drove in silence. Bruno was dying to ask who in the hell the stiff in the back of the van was, but he knew better. Kurt had a habit of only telling him what he thought he needed to know and got pissed whenever Bruno asked questions. Ever since Bruno had known him, Kurt had been a man of few words. He was always tensed up and on edge, as if he was constantly angry about something.
It only took a few minutes to get to the parking lot, and when they did, it only took a few more minutes to find the car. It was the only Jeep in the lot and was positioned close to the exit, with nothing blocking it. Kurt had gotten out to check to see if the keys opened the doors. They did. The car’s papers were in the glove compartment, and Gaetano’s carry-on was on the backseat.
“I want you to follow me to the airport,” Kurt said when he came back to Bruno’s window. “Needless to say, drive carefully. You don’t want to get stopped and have them discover the body.”
“That would be embarrassing,” Bruno agreed. “Especially since I don’t know a blasted thing.”
Bruno thought he detected a glare in Kurt’s eyes before he went back to climb into the rent-a-car. Bruno shrugged and started the van.
Kurt got the Cherokee started. He hated surprises, and the day had been nothing but surprises. With his Special Ops Army training, he prided himself on careful planning, as was necessary for any military mission. Accordingly, he had been observing the two doctors for more than a week, and he thought he understood their mind-set and situation. Then the woman doctor had broken into the egg room; tha
t had been totally unexpected and had caught him unprepared. Even worse was what had happened tonight.
As soon as they got through town and on open road, Kurt pulled out his cell phone and pressed the preprogrammed number for Paul Saunders. Although Spencer Wingate was the titular head of the clinic, Kurt preferred dealing with Paul. It had been Paul who had hired him back in Massachusetts. Besides, Paul, like Kurt, was always at the clinic, which was in sharp contrast to Spencer, who was always out looking for loose women.
As per usual, Paul answered after only a few rings.
“I’m on my cell,” Kurt warned before saying anything else.
“Oh?” Paul questioned. “Don’t tell me there is another problem.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Is it related to our guests?”
“Very much so.”
“Does it have anything to do with what happened today?”
“It’s worse.”
“I don’t like the sound of this. Can you give me some idea what it is about?”
“I think it is better that we meet.”
“When and where?”
“In three quarters of an hour in my office. Let’s say twenty-three hundred hours.” By force of habit, Kurt still used military time.
“Should we involve Spencer?”
“That’s your call.”
“See you then.”
Kurt ended the call and slipped the phone into its holder on his belt. He glanced into the rearview mirror. Bruno was following at a comfortable distance. Events seemed to be back under control.
The airport was all but deserted, save for the cleaning crews. More specifically, the rent-a-car concessions were all closed. Kurt nosed the Cherokee into one of the appropriate rent-a-car slips. He locked the car and took the keys and the papers over to the after-hours deposit box. A moment later, he climbed back into Bruno’s van. Bruno had kept the engine idling.
“Now what?” Bruno asked.
“You are going to drive me back to the Ocean Club to get my van. Then we are both going to drive out to Lyford Cay Marina. You’ll be taking a moonlight cruise on the company yacht.”