Bonnie came out of a haze of white light and found herself in the backseat of the Hyundai, heading toward the wharf, where the freighter languished in the glare of floodlights. A man she had never seen was driving, with another guy riding shotgun.
Her purse was gone, and the Walther with it. And of course she wasn’t toting an ankle gun. She’d already played that card.
Her slow circling gaze came to rest on Kyle, seated beside her, a stun gun in her hand.
“Don’t try anything,” the girl said, “or I’ll give you another jolt. Do you understand?”
“Yeah.” Her voice was strangely hoarse, as though she’d been screaming, and her head ached. “Was I out long?”
“Couple of minutes. I take it you’re sentient again.”
“I’m okay. Everything’s just a little”—she tried clearing her throat and coughed up a thread of mucus—“fruity in the loops.”
“You do have the most creative street patois.”
“Yeah. I bet you’re gonna miss that about me.”
Her cap must have come off when she’d been loaded into the car. She found it on the floor and put it back on. She didn’t know why, really.
“So it looks like you didn’t need rescuing,” she said slowly.
“Of course not. I knew you’d fall for the damsel-in-distress routine. It fits in so perfectly with the atmospherics of your cherished pulp-fiction, film-noir mise-en-scene.”
Bonnie shut her eyes against the slow throb in her skull. “Use smaller words.”
“I can’t help having a better vocabulary than someone with only a high school diploma.”
“No diploma.”
“What?”
“Never finished high school. Dropped out when I was fifteen.”
“Jesus.”
The guy in the passenger seat lit a strong-smelling cigarette. Turkish or something. Serious fumes.
Bonnie tried to focus. “You worked it out with the old man. Somehow you knew I could find you here …”
“Arian knew. He’s pretty paranoid. He had Shaban’s car and apartment bugged. He heard your phone calls, knew exactly what you were up to.”
“If you think handing me over to Arian solves your problem, you’re wrong. You still messed up your assignment. You were hired get rid of Shaban.”
“Shaban’s not an issue anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he’s currently rounding up two of his friends, people he trusts. He intends to come here with them and confront his grandfather. We can hear his phone calls, remember? What he doesn’t know is that the hit crew from Brighton Cove is already on board the ship, not to mention Zamir and Timir.” She nodded at the men up front.
“Wow. You really are a psycho bitch.” Bonnie sighed. “I thought that was my department.”
On the pier, cranes were still filling up the cargo holds. Dockworkers strolled around. They couldn’t all work for the Dragushas. But even if she yelled for help, no one would hear over the clamor of machinery. She thought of trying a combat roll out of the sedan, but it was hopeless; Kyle would zap her before she even got the door open.
“So Arian’s going to do the job himself, with his own people?” She shook her head, then regretted that when her skull throbbed harder. “His only reason for hiring you must’ve been to avoid tipping his hand. Now he’s gonna pop the kid right on the boat?”
“Ship,” Kyle said. “It’s a ship, not a boat. And your logic is valid, except now there’s a new way to spin it. The story will be that Shaban hired you to kill his grandfather. Arian got wind of the plan, took care of you, then defended himself from Shaban when he and his accomplices arrived to do the job personally.”
The freighter expanded in the windshield. A wide ramp descended from an opening in the stern, hanging out like a lolling tongue. The Hyundai turned onto the ramp, climbing.
“Who came up with that scenario?” Bonnie asked. “Him or you?”
“Mostly me. I stopped at a payphone after I left the burger place. I’d gotten myself together by then. As you may have noticed, I was a bit frazzled when I left.”
“Yeah. Thanks again for trashing the shit outta my ride.”
“I’m surprised you could tell the difference.”
The Hyundai passed inside the ship, into a vast echoing cavern made of metal floors, steel columns, and a high ceiling studded with banks of fluorescent lights. It could have been an underground parking garage in the city.
“I had a phone conversation with the old man,” Kyle said. “He told me the hit in Brighton Cove had just been canceled. I saw my chance and sold him on a new strategy. I said that once you found out about the hit crew, you’d feel duty-bound to find me. With me as bait, I could lead you right to him.”
Bonnie studied the girl in the flicker of overhead lights streaking past. “You’re a real piece of work, kiddo.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
The sedan’s headlights flared on the rising surface of another ramp, this one leading to a higher level of the hold.
“I don’t care what you think of me.” Kyle shrugged. “I won, you lost. In a few hours I’ll be in Honolulu. I’ll remember you when I’m sipping a daiquiri on the lanai.”
“Hawaii? That’s the plan?”
“I’ve earned a vacation.”
“Sure, you’re crazy employee of the month.”
The driver bypassed the next ramp, heading for a rear corner of the hold. It was darker here, most of the overhead lights extinguished. The Hyundai’s high beams snapped on.
“So,” Bonnie said, “you knew right from the start that Arian would put me out of the way.”
“Sure. That was a given. Am I supposed to feel bad about it?”
“Some people would.”
Kyle shrugged. “You chose a dangerous occupation. Your luck had to run out eventually.”
“Sweet.”
“Anyway, from what I know of you, your demise won’t constitute much of a loss.”
“At least I ain’t gonna die a virgin.”
The car slowed. Its single headlight lit up rows of vehicles parked four deep, lashed to holes in the flooring by orange cables. Exports picked up at some other shipping facility, already secured for their trip overseas.
“I got news for you, kiddo,” Bonnie said. “You won’t be getting any vacation. The old man will take care of you, just like he intends to take care of me.”
“He won’t kill me if I can be useful.”
“Your usefulness is pretty much over at this point.”
“You’re wrong. There’s one more thing I can do.” She plucked the cap from Bonnie’s head and put it on. “I can be you.”
“It takes more than a hat to pull off that impersonation.”
“I have more than a hat. I have your ID. I’ll be traveling as Bonnie Parker. I’ll use your credit card to book the flight. And I know how to breeze through airport checkpoints without drawing attention. All I need is to take off my specs and put on a wig. One blonde female looks enough like another.”
“What’s the point?”
“No matter how dumb they are, the police in your little hick town will connect your disappearance with the drive-by crew. The timing is too close to be a coincidence. They’ll track down the hitters, and the hitters will lead them straight to Arian. Unless …”
“Unless my last known whereabouts were somewhere in Hawaii.”
“Brava. That way, suspicion can’t fall on anyone local. So you see, Arian has a reason to keep me alive. I’m providing an alibi for him and his crew.”
“And what about Kyle Ridley? What happens to her, officially?”
“My car will be shipped overseas and disposed of with no paper trail. I’ll get a new ID in Hawaii. For all practical purposes, Kyle Ridley will simply cease to exist.”
“You came up with that plan, too, I take it.”
“Naturellement.”
“You always think you’re the smartest one in the room.”
“Only because I am.”
The Hyundai pulled into a corner. The driver shifted into park, but left the engine idling, headlights on.
In the darkness beyond the lights, someone stood waiting. A small slender figure, narrow-shouldered, face invisible.
Bonnie had never seen Arian Dragusha, not even in a photo. She knew she was looking at him now.
The two men got out of the car.
“There’s something I still don’t get,” Bonnie said. “Arian doesn’t trust his own people. He doesn’t trust his own flesh and blood. Why would he trust you?”
“That’s exactly why. Because I’m not part of the organization. I’m an outsider. As you so eloquently put it”—Kyle snugged the cap tighter on her head—“I got no skin in the game.”
The back door opened on Bonnie’s side. The driver reached in. He was a big man with a stupid face and a bad smell. He grabbed hold of her with a meaty hand and hauled her out of the car.
Her legs were surprisingly wobbly. The stun gun had left her weaker than she’d realized. Both men propped her up, one on either side. The driver carried an appalling stench, the reek of some serious BO. He wore a short-sleeved tee with yellow pit stains and a knife sheathed to his arm. His companion chewed his foul-smelling cigarette and scratched himself. Both sported unkempt beards of black wiry hair, like Brillo pads.
A real classy duo. They made Ed Goodman look like Fred Astaire.
They marched her forward, into the spill of glare from the high beams.
“So which one of you is Zamir?” she inquired. “Timir?”
They ignored her.
“Not big talkers, huh?”
“They speak no English.”
The voice, a smoker’s rasp, came from outside the circle of light. Arian Dragusha advanced in slow shuffling steps punctuated by the tap of a cane. She waited, held by the men, as the headlights’ glow mounted his body and reached his face. A fuzz of gray beard. Loose jowls, wattled neck. Dead eyes.
He stopped before her. Up close he seemed feeble and shaky, his limbs as spindly as the walking stick he leaned on, his black coat enfolding him like wings.
“They have come over from Albania,” he said. “Speak only their native language.”
“That’s gotta be convenient for you. Hear no evil, and all that.”
He looked her over without interest. “You are Parker?” His shoulders rose and fell. “Nothing special. Just a girl.”
“And you’re just a senile old fart. Looks like both of us are kind of a disappointment.”
Unexpectedly he laughed—a series of low chuckles that shook his frail body like coughs.
“Brave woman, eh?” he said mildly. “But not for long.”
His long-fingered hand gave a languid wave. The man on her right jerked her arms forward, holding them outstretched. The driver, on her left, produced a pair of steel handcuffs joined by a short welded chain.
She didn’t like being helpless. When the locks clicked shut, a small involuntary shudder trembled through her.
Arian watched her with a thin smile. “No fear, Parker. You don’t die right away.”
“That’s very comforting.”
Kyle materialized in the light, carrying a purse Bonnie recognized as her own. “I wouldn’t take too much reassurance from it,” she said. “I really wouldn’t.”
Arian chuckled again. “Should listen to her, Parker. Smart girl, this one.”
“Yeah, she’s a peach.”
“Will take you a long time to die,” Arian said. “Is eighteen days before Malta, first port of call. Zamir and Timir will work on you. They have done this before. When they are through, you go into the North Atlantic. Splash.”
Bonnie turned to Kyle. “You know, I’m only here because I was trying to save your life.”
The girl rolled her eyes. “Well, cry me a river.”
“When you told me you don’t feel anything, you weren’t just talking about sex, were you? You don’t feel anything at all. Ever.”
“The technical term is alexithymia. And yes, I studied psychology to understand myself. But not to fix myself. I’m not broken. Quite the contrary. I really believe I represent a step forward. Humanity two point oh, so to speak. You know Gould’s theory of punctuated equilibrium, the hopeful monster? Of course you don’t. But I think it applies to me.”
“The monster part does.”
“Say whatever you want. I see things with a clarity of focus you’ll never know. And I’m a survivor. I’m adaptable and resilient.”
“So’s a cockroach, but you don’t hear him bragging about it.”
Arian clapped his hands once. “Marrë atë.”
Zamir and Timir tightened their grip on her arms. Roughly she was escorted out of the light, her hands cuffed in front of her.
She looked over her shoulder and saw Kyle tip her cap. “Later, hater,” the girl said cheerily.
Bonnie turned, facing forward. Her mouth barely moved.
“In a while, Crocodile.”