“Maybe they’re fishermen,” Loo said. But still, she ducked into the hold.
The cruiser pushed steadily toward them. When it was in range it began slowing its engines, the foam diminishing into bubbles. Hawley could smell the briny scent of the waves as they slapped against the sailboat, rocking the hull. He cut the idling motor and shifted his weight, trying to keep steady. Gasoline leaked into the water, spreading slick swirls of color across the surface.
The first man was at the wheel. He was older and had a military buzz cut, broad shoulders and a face dimpled like a potato. A nose like a broken door hanging off its hinges. It had been years since their fight at the diner, but Hawley knew at once it was Ed King. The old boxer wasn’t wearing a hat and his head and face and neck were burned bright red from the sun. Hawley could see the flaking on his crooked nose, the ring of white skin by his collar.
The other man in the boat was Jove.
Hawley’s friend was still wearing his captain’s cap and those special boat shoes. His face was busted and both eyes were black and he was holding on to his side like his ribs were broken. But he hadn’t been killed yet. And that was something.
The cruiser slowed and the grinding roar of the engine stopped, and the boat and the men continued to drift forward, the momentum bringing them along the starboard side.
“Sam Hawley,” King called out. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
The wind picked up and the mainsail fluttered. Together the boats bobbed up and down.
Hawley said, “Aren’t you supposed to be in prison?”
“I got an early release, for good behavior. And a favor or two. People always need favors.” The old boxer came over to the railing and leaned on it. He kept an automatic trained on Jove. “You look the same.”
“You don’t.”
King put his hand on his thick waist. He laughed but it wasn’t a funny laugh and nobody else laughed with him. Hawley tried to figure things but they were hard to figure.
“Came looking for your friend?”
Hawley’s eyes shifted to Jove. “That’s right.”
“Me, too,” said King. “A real good pal he was, sending me away for fifteen years. Just to cover his own mistakes. And yours.”
“Nobody forced you to kill those folks in Alaska. So you paid for it. You did your time.”
“Like you did yours?” King asked.
Hawley didn’t answer.
“So high and mighty,” said King. “But you’re just another pair of dirty hands. All I had to do was dangle this job. Offer enough money. And wait. And I’ve gotten very good at waiting.”
Jove glanced at the porthole where Loo was hiding. A moment later he seemed not to be looking anywhere, only blinking at the orange streaks that stretched across the sky. His ruined face made all of the holes in Hawley’s skin start itching.
“I never thought I’d see you again,” Jove said.
King clapped him on the back. “Your friend tried to convince me you wouldn’t come looking for him. But I had a feeling you would. So we cut his boat loose near the Banks and let those Whale Heroes call it in to the Coast Guard. Then we came back here. It gave us a chance to have a nice long talk.”
The sun had reached the edge of the horizon, and the sky began to fill with pink, turning the clouds a dark magenta. King’s eye was twitching against the light, and Hawley remembered the same twitch on the boxer’s face at the diner, when he’d been looking at Lily. Back before Hawley had even touched her hand.
King was staring at Hawley now that same way, like he couldn’t believe his luck. So many years had passed and the boxer had the same tell. He pressed the automatic to the back of Jove’s head. “Let’s start by giving me your guns.”
Hawley took the Glock from the back of his pants and threw it into the cruiser.
“And the one in your coat.”
Hawley removed the Colt and tossed that next. The only weapons left now were the rifle under the blanket and the long guns down in the cabin with Loo. The wind picked up and the boats began to drift. King made Hawley toss a line, then Jove tied the rope to the bow of the cruiser.
“Now the bear. Stick the watch inside and send it over.”
Hawley put the timepiece back into the metal case, then back into the plastic. He used Loo’s knife to cut a hole in the bear’s chest and jammed the bag where its heart should be. The stuffing was surprisingly soft, bits of cotton and rags, though heavy when he lifted it. Hawley swung the bear back and let go. The animal spun in the air between the two boats, hit the bow of the cruiser, and landed with a splash in the water. Jove stabbed it with a boat hook, then dragged the body on board.
King put his hand inside the bear, feeling around. He extracted the plastic bag. He opened the case and palmed the watch, rubbing the gold clamshell with the tips of his fingers.
“Biggest bait I’ve ever used,” he said. “But it was worth it for this.” King slipped the watch into his pocket. He led Jove to the edge of the cruiser.
“Time to take your bear and go home, Jove.”
“You mean jump?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
Jove lifted the soggy stuffed animal. He climbed over the rail, dragging the toy behind him, then stood on the edge in his expensive windbreaker and ridiculous hat and special loafers he’d bought and been so proud of. He looked at Hawley, his face a mixture of apology and relief. And then King slid the automatic to the center of his back and pulled the trigger. The bullet went through Jove and then it went through the bear, the stuffed animal’s chest bursting forth in a snowy cloud of foam and fur. Then Jove and the bear both fell into the water.
There was a muffled cry from inside the cabin. King looked at Hawley and then at the sailboat, but before he could do anything else or shoot again, Hawley dove beneath the seats and pulled the blanket off the rifle.
King spun his automatic and strafed the side of the sailboat. Hawley ducked down, crouching out of sight. He could hear the bullets hitting the wood and the porthole windows shattering. He counted the shots. When the mag was finished King ran for the cabin. That’s when Hawley stood and raised the long gun and fired. He watched the boxer collapse and then fall down the ladder into the hold.
He crouched back down and waited.
No more shots.
He leaned over the side of the boat. “Loo!” he cried. “You all right? Loo!”