The Last Kind Word (Mac McKenzie #10)

The Last Kind Word (Mac McKenzie #10) Page 95

“Cómo no,” Fenelon said.

While they were talking I cautiously reached into the left-hand pocket of the swimsuit I was still wearing and produced my cell phone—the one I had been using ever since I arrived in the northland, the one no one else knew about.

“Now you can kill him,” Brand said.

The Mexicans raised their assault rifles. I raised my hand. The light from the cell phone shone like a small flashlight.

“Are you guys in a hurry?” I was speaking loudly, almost screaming. “Do you have a bus to catch?”

“Don’t,” Daniel shouted. “Hold your fire, hold your fire.”

The henchmen didn’t lower their rifles. On the other hand, they didn’t shoot, either, so I had that going for me.

“?Qué es esto?” the Mexican asked, and then translated for himself—“What is this?”

“Daniel?” Brand asked.

“Goddamn sonuvabitch,” Daniel answered.

“Daniel, what?”

“I have a bomb wired to a cell phone detonator,” I said. “Any sudden moves and I’ll blow up the money, the boat, that shed filled with aviation fuel, and maybe some of you. It’ll be one helluva an explosion, I promise. The CBP guys at the inspection station across the lake should have no problem seeing it.”

Everyone was standing now. Brand moved to Daniel’s side and grabbed him by the arm. “Is this true?” he asked.

Daniel pulled his arm away. “I thought I got his cell phone.”

“Two bombs, two cells,” I said.

“You let him bring a bomb here?” Brand said.

“We must kill him,” the Mexican said. He was speaking English so no one would misunderstand. I did, too.

“Hombre, we had a deal,” I said. “The money for the girl. Bring me the girl. Do it now. You can keep the money.”

No one looked like they believed me. Brand nodded his head, though, and Fenelon quickly crossed the clearing to the Subaru. A few moments later, he led Jill by the elbow to the fire. Brand intercepted him, grabbed the girl, and pushed her toward me. She stumbled. Instead of attempting to catch her I stepped away and let her fall. Brand and the Mexicans flinched like defensive linemen waiting for the ball to be snapped yet did not move.

“You sonuvabitch,” Brand said.

“Don’t call me names, John. I don’t like it.”

“You think you’re getting away with something?”

Jill rose slowly from the ground and stood by my side. She was still wearing the soiled nightgown; she looked dirty and worn. I spoke to her in a low voice without taking my eyes off of Brand and the Mexican.

“How you doing, sweetie?” I asked.

“I’m okay.”

“You don’t sound okay.”

“I bet I look worse.”

A sense of humor, my inner voice said. Amazing.

“You got the girl like I promised,” Brand said. “Now give me the phone.”

“Not a chance.”

“We should kill him,” the Mexican said.

“All I have to do is tap the button and all that money burns.”

“You will die.”

“You’re going to kill me anyway—you keep saying so.”

“The money,” Brand said. “We need to think about the money.”

“You promised millions,” the Mexican said.

“Yes, I did.”

“In the meantime,” I said, “everyone move to the fire. Do it now.”

The Mexican regarded me for a long moment, then gestured for his men to gather around the fire pit. Both Brand and Daniel hesitated before joining them. When he realized he was standing alone, Fenelon joined the group, yet not before saying, “I’m sorry.” I actually felt sympathy for him.

“Is this what you call a Mexican standoff?” the gunrunner asked.

“In a manner of speaking,” I said. My arm was getting tired holding the cell in the air. I refused to lower it because I wanted them all to appreciate the danger; I didn’t want anyone getting careless. “This is what we’re going to do. You’re going to give me the keys to the Malibu. Jill and I will take the car and drive away. As soon as we’re gone, Daniel can disarm the bomb. He knows how. Everybody gets what they want. Simple.”

“No,” Brand said.

I ignored him and continued to talk to the Mexican. “You and your amigos can climb into your plane and fly back to wherever you came from with a couple hundred pounds of U.S. currency.”

“No,” Brand repeated.

The Mexican turned his back to me and spoke quietly to Brand. I couldn’t hear exactly what he said, but his tone of voice suggested that he was questioning Brand’s judgment. While they were discussing the matter, I whispered to Jill.

“In a minute, they’re going to light up this clearing like Target Field. As soon as they do, you and I are going to make a run for the dock and jump into the lake. Cannonball, don’t dive—we don’t know how deep the water is.”

“We won’t get away doing that,” Jill said.

“We’re not trying to get away. We’re trying to get out of the line of fire.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Once we’re in the water, we’ll swim under the dock and wait until it’s over.”