Haven, page 33
“This isn't working. I want to get to that boat.”
“The boat's covered. Let me try another page.”
Loomis hit Redial on his cellular phone. He asked the trailer to try Dr. Leidner again.
“Can the two of you handle him if he does show up?”
“Ralph and me? We can take him. The question is how neatly. I'm betting he'll behave with a gun in his ribs. Those guys don't buck the odds if they can help it.”
“But if he resists? With all these people looking on?”
“Then we'll say we caught him exposing his cock. They won't mind that we cracked him in the head.”
Tarrant still was uneasy.
“Look, you want to go? Go. Tell my guys to be ready to board and seize that boat if you see us coming with Kessler.”
Kessler watched as the man with the briefcase hurried off. He'd been able to hear little of what they'd been saying but they clearly were watching for someone to come, either to or from one of those trailers. He eased a little closer to the two who remained until only the corner of a tent was between them. He then heard the name paged a second time but the doctor was already approaching the trailer. He was sipping the same diet cola as he walked. Kessler risked a look at the two baggy jackets. Both men seemed to note Doctor Leidner's arrival but not with particular interest.
Only then did Kessler notice Elizabeth. Several times he had scanned all the people in view. He had noted and passed over the woman in the kerchief who was busy clipping branches from a shrub. No more than her head and shoulders were showing and she seemed absorbed by her task. She paid no attention to any other activity except twice now he'd seen her glance back toward the golf course. This time when she did it he followed that glance to a figure who was loitering some twenty yards behind her. He almost didn't recognize the girl either. She wore no straw hat and her hair was cut short. She was wearing a black plastic helmet of some kind. But there was no mistaking those big eyes of hers. Those eyes were locked on the gardener lady who, he realized with a start, was Elizabeth.
Elizabeth?
She had not seen him because her attention was elsewhere and because most of him was hidden by the corner of the tent. It's just like her, he realized, to blend into the scenery but why is she here with that girl? His mind told him maybe it's Elizabeth who paged Jonathan but why then would she hide behind a bush? More likely, if anyone had placed that page it's these two baggy jackets with their cell phone. But that couldn't be because when Jonathan showed up they paid practically no attention to him. This was crazy.
Her Jonathan was now in the trailer. Elizabeth's dark glasses moved this way and that as if to see who else might be coming. The two baggy jackets were doing the same. The one without the cell phone had some papers in his hand. The top page included what looked like a photograph but someone pausing to munch on a hot dog temporarily impeded his view. He decided, with this foot traffic, he could risk moving closer. First he opened the zipper of his own baggy jacket in case something else crazy happened.
Nothing did for two minutes, maybe three. The one without the cell phone slid his papers in his pocket, most of them still sticking out. Kessler was almost within an arms reach. The temptation to lift them caused his fingers to itch but there were too many eyes at the food tents; he'd be seen.
The temptation ended when Jonathan came back out, a look of mild annoyance on his face. He climbed down a short flight of wooden steps that provided an entry to the trailer. The door opened behind him. A young woman called his name. In her hand was his diet soda. He said, "Oh, right," and turned back to get it. She said, "I'm sorry about the confusion, Doctor Leidner. But at least you can stay and see some tennis.”
At this the man holding the cellular phone straightened. The two baggy jackets exchanged glances. The one with the phone quickly punched out a number and stood snapping his fingers while it rang.
“It isn't him," he said into the mouthpiece. "I'm looking at Leidner; it's not him.”
He listened to what must have been an argument.
“Mr. Tarrant...read my lips. It is definitely not him. This guy here looks nothing like Kessler.”
Kessler stood very quietly. He tried not to breathe. He now knew who the man with the briefcase must be. This was looking not so crazy after all.
Lawrence Tarrant, his cellular phone at his ear, didn't know what to make of it either. The young aide had never been wrong before this; his information came straight from the top. Tarrant was torn between this urgent call from Loomis and the sight, before him, of Bandari's yacht and the man who could only be Ozal.
Ozal, his one eye misshapen and closed, was standing on a walkway below the sea wall and directly behind the Alhambra. Tourists wandered along the perimeter above him. Ozal clearly seemed ill. Tarrant watched him pause and put a hand to his stomach and then try several breaths to make sure his lungs functioned. He rocked on his feet as he did so. Before him on the walkway was a tarpaulin-covered cart with two cases of soft drinks on top. Ozal would reach out and touch the blue tarp in a manner that seemed almost a caress. Tarrant was getting a very bad feeling about what that cart might contain.
“Listen," he told Loomis, "I want you to question him, check his ID. Find out if he's really Doctor Leidner.”
Loomis protested. "What for?”
“Just do it.”
“Mr. Tarrant, even if the guy is someone else, he still won't be Martin Kessler.”
“Well, his name didn't come out of a hat, God damn it. He must have some connection with Kessler.”
“Like what?”
“Don't ask me. I pay you to find out.”
Loomis was arguing as he broke the connection.
Kessler could scarcely believe that he was hearing his name. They thought he is Jonathan? Or that Jonathan is him? And now the one with the phone says, "He wants us to check the guy's ID.”
“What for?”
“I been through that. He says do it; we'll do it.”
“Hey, Loomis. Wait a second. We're showing him our faces? He'll remember when he finds out what's under that bed.”
“He won't make the connection. He's going to think were Security.”
Kessler wondered what bed they were talking about but that was only in one part of his brain. Another part, deeper, was almost amused. You don't overhear your stalkers every day. But back in the more serious part of his brain he could see Elizabeth glaring at him. "Martin, this is no fucking joke," she was saying.
Not nice language, Elizabeth, but of course you are right.
Indeed. Indeed. This is serious business. Take a nice deep breath and think it out.
Lawrence Tarrant, it seems, the man with the briefcase, has come to this island to hunt him. But the only way that Tarrant could have thought he was Leidner is if Tarrant had somehow tracked Elizabeth here. That makes sense, does it not? How else could this be? He had to have first found Elizabeth to then ask, "So, who are the men in her life?" The only answer, if he asked around Sea Pines, would have been this Jonathan Leidner. "Leidner...aha...that sounds German, you see. This Leidner must therefore be Kessler.”
No...no, you see...that doesn't make sense. It vaults over how he could have found Elizabeth. If he did, it vaults over why she is here now instead of lying somewhere with a hole in her forehead. Unless, of course, she found out they were on to her...which is why she is lurking behind that bush...to stalk Tarrant...which is also impossible now that we think of it because if that were the case she would not have brought the girl.
The truth, Kessler realized, is that he had no idea. The truth is that Elizabeth would know nothing of Tarrant because he had chosen not to burden her with him. But if that's true, why is she here? He didn't know. He knew only this. For all his good intentions he has put her in danger. If they know who she is they will kill her.
Kessler's instinct was to cut this off at the source. He had seen the direction Tarrant had taken. He could find him and finish him; these two could wait. Except these two were now moving to intercept Leidner.
Elizabeth, stay there. Don't come out from your bush. Look here. Do you see me? It's me with short pants. Don't worry, I won't let anything happen. Don't worry, it's not your young doctor they want.
Elizabeth?!? I said stay where you are!!
Oh, goodness. She's coming. And she's coming unarmed.
THIRTY THREE
Roy Willis, this time, heard the name Leidner paged. His first thought was to curse himself for not thinking of that first instead of wading through thousands of faces.
“Yes, but who could be paging him?" Peter asked, himself surprised.
“My guess? Stein, his housemate, to tell him we were there.”
Willis raised a hand to gather Nadia and Jasmine but they were already pushing through the crowd toward him. Jasmine mouthed, "We heard," as they approached.
“Let's go talk to him.”
Gamal Bandari peered through his binoculars. He had taken a position behind a hedge near a row of portable toilets. He had still seen no one whose skin was like coffee and no one who might be his niece. Lots of girls but most of them blond.
He was about to give up, to go back to Ozal and tell him that his plan was impossibly stupid. Suddenly he saw faces that were browner than brown. He saw two of them converging in a sea of mostly white. He raised the binoculars to his eyes. He saw one woman, black, and one taller, not so dark. They were moving toward a man, also black. With the black man was a white man, considerably older, whose jacket was yellow, not blue like the others. Bandari wondered, almost idly, why three wore the same jacket. They met. They turned. They were coming his way.
He began to feel ill again. He did not know why. There was something about them that frightened him. He moved the focusing knob of his binoculars. At last, as he did so, he realized with a start what his brain had been trying to tell them. Those jackets. On the front. Over each of their hearts. Those jackets bore a Van Der Meer logo.
It was them. It had to be. The tall one, not so dark, had to be the Algerian. Bandari's heart began to beat loudly. He lowered himself further to be hidden by the hedge. He would wait, let them pass him, and watch where they were going. After that he would run and get Ozal.
As the two in the baggy golf jackets reached Leidner, Kessler stepped out in the open. Their backs were to him; he was facing Elizabeth. He waved an arm vigorously; he caught her eye. Elizabeth stopped and looked back at him, surprised. She cocked her head toward the two men with Leidner and then spread her hands in a questioning gesture as in, "Martin, what the hell's going on?”
He could think of no gestures that could adequately communicate, "These two thought your Jonathan is me." But he could say with gestures, "You get back. Let me handle this." He did so and then he patted his waist so that Elizabeth would know that he is armed. He knew, he supposed, that she would not find this gladdening but he hoped that she would wait and not interfere. These two, he felt sure, would ask her Jonathan some questions and then let him go on his way.
The two, however, were not being subtle. Jonathan stopped for them politely enough and acknowledged that yes, he's Doctor Leidner. He drew the line however at producing his wallet. Kessler heard him ask, "Did you two just page me? Never mind my ID; let's see yours." At this, the second man put a hand to his chest and shoved him back up against the trailer. The first said, "We hear you been flashing your dick.”
Elizabeth shouted, "Hey! Get your hands off him." She was pretending to be a meddlesome bystander. Nice touch. He'd seen her play that role before. Even so, Kessler groaned in his mind.
Both men turned their heads to see who had challenged them. What they saw was some woman, dark glasses and kerchief. And behind her, they saw, to Kessler's dismay, the approach of a girl wearing skates on her shoulder. Kessler saw no recognition, no alarm on their faces. Only annoyance at some woman who should mind her own business. The first, called Loomis, snarled, "Keep moving, lady." The second said, "This guy's a pervert.”
These words were barely out of his mouth when the second, looking round him to see who else might be nosy, looked squarely into Martin Kessler's eyes. This time there was clear recognition. He mouthed the word, "Shit," and spun Leidner around. At the same time he clawed for his weapon.
Kessler's Walther leaped into his hand as he muttered a "Shit" of his own. He had the man beat but he had no shot because the doctor was now in between. The second man now recognized him as well and reached for his weapon in turn. The doctor was stunned at the sight of these pistols and also at the sight of Elizabeth Stride who was bounding toward him like a deer. Kessler could see that she had something in her hand, much too wide for her knife but it was pointed. The second man saw her; he brought up his gun.
Kessler had no choice. He had to swing his sights from the man holding Leidner to the man who was turning on Elizabeth. He did not want to shoot him because he didn't want shooting with so many people to see it. Already he heard rising voices from the crowd as the first of them saw what was happening. He shouted, "Don't do it. I'll kill you.”
In that instant he saw the flash from the first one's pistol and he felt a hammer blow to his stomach. Though his pain he saw that the second man had wavered between himself and this woman with a gardener's trowel in her hand. He saw Elizabeth lead with a kick that almost knocked the gun from his grip. He saw that before the man could recover she had buried the trowel in his throat.
Screams came now from the crowd behind Kessler. The man holding Leidner swung around to shoot Elizabeth but the doctor was clawing at his arm. The man with the trowel still stuck in his throat was staggering blindly; he tried to pull it free. The man, Loomis, smashed Leidner in the mouth with his elbow. Leidner tried to hold on but he fell. Loomis stomped him. With Leidner down he turned again on Elizabeth. Kessler now had his shot. He fired. But he missed.
What ruined his aim even more than his belly wound was a blur of movement from off to one side. It was not Elizabeth; she had thrown herself down; she was rolling and juking to avoid being shot while she tried for the pistol of the man she had stabbed. The blur was the girl who appeared out of nowhere. As she ran, she stripped a pair of skates from her shoulder and heaved them at the man who was trying to shoot Elizabeth. The heavy skates whirled, each still tethered by laces. One caught the man, Loomis, full in the face. The other continued and pulled his head with it. His head and the skates slammed into the trailer. Kessler fired before he could bounce.
Bandari had waited for the Van Der Meers to pass him before making for the area where the food tents were assembled. Beyond was the passage to the harbor. His head jerked up at the sound of a gunshot that came from those trailers on his left.
The first movement he saw was a young girl running. As she ran she hurled what looked like boots through the air. They struck one man in the face and knocked him backward. Another man was stumbling in the manner of a drunk. His fingers were holding some object to his neck. Still another in a green shirt was down on his knees and a woman on the ground had snatched up a pistol. This woman, in a headscarf, had only started to point it when a second shot came from yet another direction. With that shot came a splatter of blood on the trailer. Red against white. It made people scream. The head of the man knocked against it had exploded.
Bandari was frozen. The first thing he feared was that this might be Ozal. Ozal and his soldiers had come ashore. They had tried to set up their bomb in this place and they had been caught by police. Bandari had to see. He moved closer through the crowd against many who were running away from the shooting.
He saw another man, a man holding his belly. This man was bent over. He had a gun in his hand. He was moving toward the others; he was waving one arm as if telling the woman and the girl to get away. But the woman moved toward him, a pistol in her hand. Her face was hidden behind big dark glasses but her eyes were darting this way and that as if she's looking for someone to shoot. He heard her say to the man, "You've been hit.”
Now the man swiped at her. He did not want her near him. He reached the man with the thing in his throat. He reached with one hand and he jerked the thing free. Bandari was horrified by what he did next. He plunged the thing into the man's throat again. He ripped as he pulled it back out. From the throat came a stream of arterial blood like the stream from a man who was carelessly peeing. The man fell backward. He hit the ground writhing. The man who had stabbed him then took the thing and stuck it, blood and all, into his belt. The man on the ground twitched again and was still.
Bandari was transfixed. His legs would not move. But he now saw that none of these men was Ozal, nor were any of them Ozal's soldiers. The man left standing snatched the gun from the woman. He threw it at one of the men who was down and then he pushed her. He seemed to be pushing her toward the girl who threw the boots.
At this moment, the voice of a woman screamed, "Aisha!!" Not the one in the headscarf. It came from the crowd. The name struck Bandari like a slap in the face. The girl's head looked up at the sound. And now Bandari saw her. The face. Leyna's face. The girl who threw boots was her daughter.
His brain tried to tell him, "Gamal, get away." It told him that this other one must be the Algerian, not the one he had seen in the Van Der Meer jacket, this one here in the headscarf and glasses. This one must be the Algerian whore who had threatened to cut off his hand. His legs were trembling but were coming back to life. He wanted to run as many others were running, jumping over still others who had dropped to the pavement. But a man's voice yelled "Freeze!" and he stopped.
“I said freeze. Drop the gun.”
