21

Cold rain fell after midnight, slapping at the leaves. Bodean Gazzer was curled up beside the hissing embers, where he'd passed out from exhaustion. Chub was splayed in the cockpit of the Reel Luv.To his chest he clutched Amber's waitress shorts, a beer bottle and a tube of poly-urethane marine adhesive he'd come across while rifling a hatch. He had gnawed off the plastic nipple and placed the glue inside a paper grocery bag, leaving space for his head. Amber doubted if the storm would rouse him; his snoring sounded like a locomotive.

Shiner was pulling guard duty, sopping and forlorn. Amber shook out the oilskin tarpaulin and draped it across the mangroves, for a lean-to. She tugged Shiner out of the rain and said: "You're going to catch your death."

"No, I can't sit down."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"But the colonel put me on perimeter."

"The colonel's out like a light. Relax," Amber said. "What kind of gun is that? It's ugly."

"TEC-9," said Shiner.

"I'd be scared to even hold it."

"Piece a crap."

"Sure beats the screwdriver."

Shiner said, "I like the AR-15 better." The wind snapped the corners of the tarp. "God, this weather sucks. You hear that?"

"It's just the waves."

"I hope." Through the trees he could make out the shape of the boat at the waterline. Chub had anchored it in a skinny channel that ran along the shore of the island.

"It's, like, zero visibility," Shiner remarked.

Amber blinked the flashlight in his face. "Just in case," she said.

"Don't tell me you gonna make a run for it."

She laughed emptily. "Where?"

"I'd have to stop you. That's my orders."

Amber said, "I'm not going anywhere. Tell me about the money."

Shiner fell silent for a short while. Then he thought he heard a helicopter. "The NATO troops got Blackhawks. They's lined up on the beach at Andros Island, is what Colonel Bode says."

Water streamed off the tarp in sheets. Amber said, "There are no helicopters coming tonight, all right? Not in this shitty storm. Maybe submarines, but no helicopters."

"You think this is funny?"

"Oh yeah. Getting kidnapped, that really cracks me up."

Shiner asked, "What'd Chub want? Before, when you guys went in the woods."

"What do you think."

"He dint try nothin', did he?"

"Yeah, he tried something. He tried to tell me he was a millionaire."

"The brotherhood, he means."

"No. Him personally," said Amber.

"I don't think so." Shiner looked troubled.

"Fourteen million dollars is what he said. That's the same money you helped to steal, right?" Amber poked his arm. "Well?"

Again Shiner turned away, toward the boat. "Did he take your pants? He said he took your pants."

She could scarcely hear him above the wind and the shake of the trees. Shiner said, "He showed 'em to us. Them orange ones."

"He didn't takeanything. I gave him the damn shorts." Amber put the light on his face. "Don't worry, it's all right."

"You say so."

"I'm a big girl."

"Yeah, but he's crazy," Shiner said.

A string of cold drops landed on Amber's forehead. Glancing up, she noticed a shiny bulge in the skin of the tarpaulin, where the water had puddled on the other side.

She told Shiner: "Watch out, it's dripping on your Tex." Turning the flashlight on the gun.

"It's T-e-c, not T-e-x." He dried the stubby barrel on one of his sleeves.

"You still worried about helicopters?"

"Naw," Shiner said.

"The money?"

"Right." He sniffed sarcastically.

"Where'd you guys get so much?" Amber asked. "Rob Fort Knox or something?"

"Try a lottery ticket."

"You're kidding."

"It was easy."

"Well, tell me about it," Amber said.

And Shiner did.

Tom Krome couldn't get to sleep in the slashing storm. The shadows swayed in the wind, and it got chilly without a fire. He and JoLayne bundled beneath the boat canvas, raindrops popping on the stiff fabric.

"I'm freezing," she said.

"This is nothing."

JoLayne briskly rubbed her hands on the knees of her jeans.

Tom said, "Incredible. It was sunny all day."

"Florida," she said.

"You like it down here?"

"I like what's left."

"Ever been to Alaska?"

"Nope," she said. "They got black folks up there?"

"I'm not sure. Let me get back to you on that."

They took out the marine chart and tried to figure out where they were. Tom guessed it was one of three keys in the middle of Florida Bay – Calusa, Spy or Pearl. They wouldn't know for sure until they got enough daylight to see the horizon.

"Not that it really matters. They're all uninhabited," Tom said.

JoLayne nudged him. A tall, long-necked bird was perched regally on the stern of the Whaler. It cocked its head and studied them with blazing yellow eyes. Rain dripped off the tip of its lancelike beak.

"Great blue," JoLayne whispered.

The bird was really something. Tom said, "Hey, big guy. What's up?"

The heron took off, croaking and bellowing across the treetops.

JoLayne said, "He's pissed. We must be in his spot."

"That, or something spooked him."

They listened for movement in the mangrove. The shotgun was positioned under the canvas at JoLayne's feet.

She said, "I don't hear a thing."

"Me, neither."

"They're not exactly Green Berets, these guys. They won't be sneaking around in this weather."

"You're right," said Tom.

To pass the time until the skies cleared, they compared futures. He told her his plan to move to Alaska and write a novel about a man whose wife wouldn't divorce him, no matter what he did. JoLayne said she liked the premise.

"It could be very funny."

"Funny wasn't the direction I was going," Tom said.

"Oh."

"I had a darker tone in mind."

"I see. More Cheever than Roth."

"Neither," he said, "I was thinking along the lines of Stephen King."

"A horror story?"

"Sure. The Estrangement.What do you think?"

JoLayne said, "Scary."

She told him her idea to make a nature preserve of Simmons Wood. She intended to speak to a lawyer about inserting a conservation easement in her deed, so the property could never be developed.

"Even after I'm dead," she said. "That'll fix the greedy bastards."

"Will you stay in Grange?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On whether there's any other black folks in Alaska," she said. "Doesn't have to be many – one would be fine, as long as it's Luther Vandross."

"Might as well aim high," Tom said.

"Hey, I'm inviting myself, in case you hadn't noticed."

He wondered if she was serious. It sounded like it.

"Try to control yourself, Tom."

"I was just thinking it's too good to be true." He slipped an arm around her.

"You mean it?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

"Let's say I do. Say we both mean it," JoLayne said. "What happens if we don't find the lottery ticket? If we're broke and bummed out."

"We'll go anyway. Don't you want to see a grizzly before they're all gone ?"

JoLayne loved the thought of a northern wilderness, but she wondered about the redneck quotient. Alaska was almost as famous for its shitkickers as for its wildlife.

Tom said, "And the place is loaded with eagles, according to what I've read."

"That would be something."

She fell asleep with her head against his shoulder. He remained awake, listening for intruders. With his free arm he moved the Remington closer. A cool gust made him shiver. Sixty-three degrees, he thought, and already my bones are cold. Perhaps the Kodiak scenario needed more thought. Also, he'd gotten the impression JoLayne wasn't bowled over by his idea for the divorce novel. He had a feeling she was humoring him.