Billy watched as Lola went to the coatrack and grabbed a leather jacket. He could see a skullcap sticking out of one pocket.
“Tonight? Well—we will go to the place indicated by those coordinates you discovered. To see what we can see.”
“In the dead of night?”
“You do remember me mentioning that you are probably being watched? Would be a very good idea to do this at night. So—you, me will drive to a spot not far from the marina—”
“In separate cars?”
“Of course. And meet up with Ted Willits, who will pick us up. Just a little beachhead, a cove, I guess they call it. Then—away we go.”
“And I am going because . . . ?”
“Because, Billy Blessing . . . I need help. That is, finding what we hope to find.”
“Isn’t this the point in the plot that the Coast Guard gets involved?”
Lola rolled her eyes. “Then, well, we come back. Same spot, dropped off, you home, hopefully no one seeing any of that.”
“And isn’t this the point in the movie you give me a spare gun? Might come in handy.”
She ignored that question.
“Now then, when you are back to your place, you reach out to whoever has been interested in what you have been doing. Tell them—and be very careful here . . . this is exactly how ADA Williams said it has to be—tell them you are ready to meet whoever it is. Think there are, at least, three players in motion with this thing?”
“If you say so . . .”
“But—meet them in Manhattan.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. But let’s get a move on. Tell you all the rest in the boat. Hope you don’t get seasick—looks choppy out there.”
“Oh, I think I might.”
She opened the desk sergeant’s drawer, took out another skullcap.
“Choppy and chilly, so put this on. Suits the activity quite well.”
Lola wasted no time getting to the door, killing the lights.
“I’ll go first, you follow. I’ll text you the location; then you just navigate there, not far.”
All this is going so fast, Billy thought. Crazily fast. And he realized that he had long passed the point where he felt he might be in danger.
Yes, going out to sea in the dead of night, and now whatever the hell was planned for tomorrow night at the big TV event, one where he now knew that “Tony Hill,” also a member of this big-time mobster club, would undoubtedly be there.
And he knew one thing.
No might about it . . .
He was in danger.
* * *
Willits stood on the sand near his boat, pulled tight to the shore.
“Yer late,” he said.
“Apologies,” Billy said, not sure the sarcasm would find its mark. “Our police chief here had some ’splaining to do.”
Willits ignored that.
“Gotta say—Chief Bristow, Billy Blessing—this here is all new to me.”
“Hey, me too,” said Billy. “And hoping first time, last—”
He watched Lola hop into the boat.
She looked at him and said, “All aboard.”
He followed suit, and Willits came behind him, clambering up to the wheelhouse to quickly back Sweet Sally off the sandy beach and away from the cove.
* * *
The coordinates had been entered into Willits’s GPS. Lola sat next to him as this strange adventure began.
And yes, the sea was choppy, the boat riding one crest, then slapping down hard in the trough of another.
And Billy did actually start to feel a bit green around the gills, if that was the expression. Glad he had not yet had any dinner.
Lola Bristow, though, seemed as steady as a rock.
“Okay. So later, when you call your lovely mob contacts. Tell them you have discovered some information. They won’t be surprised at that. But that’s when you say you need to meet in a safe place.”
“Such as?”
“The Park Avenue Club. You know. Where the TV event is tomorrow night?”
The boat hit a particular big swell, was forced up, and then slammed down like it might break in two. Willits leaned out from the wheelhouse just above them. “Sorry for all the chop. Sea’s a little angry tonight. Hope you can handle it?”
“We’re just great.” And then Billy turned back.
“Really? Speak for yourself,” Lola said.
“Okay. Back to your plan. So—all these people who want this stolen treasure, hidden for all these years and used by Steiner—”
“To do good.”
“Yeah—but still, you know, still stolen. You want me to have them converge tomorrow at that building? Where Tony Hill will undoubtedly be since he was pulling strings to get me the hell out of here, right? All of them at the club. That what you are proposing? To speak with me? And this is going to help keep me alive how?”
“Told you. You will be watched, protected. You might not see them. I mean, you will see me. I’ll be there too. But there will be detectives, people from the DA’s office, and New York’s finest in plainclothes. Lot of protection.”
“As I recall, ADA Williams told me there’s no security tight enough to keep these guys from getting to me.”
Lola gave Billy a hard stare.
And he returned the gaze with a smirk, adding, “And regarding the plainclothes cops and the club’s dress code, best maybe not too plain?” Billy said. “Quite the glitzy affair, these things.”
“Right. I will pass that on. So, you will set a time and a location. Do you know the club well? The layout and all that?”
“Been to a few fancy events there.”
The boat hit another swell, and this time, Billy felt his body actually levitate inches off the port-side bench. The nearby air tanks rattled as if eager to escape the rack that held them.
“Jesus. Great night we picked for this little hunting expedition.”
“Didn’t actually pick it. You had a breakthrough. And it was time to move.”
“Right . . . all my fault,” he said with a grin.
“Look, Billy—despite your colorful background . . .”
He guessed she knew pretty much all that he had done, from jail, the name change, and his previous encounters with murders—and all that jazz . . .
“This, still—I know—more than a little scary? Pretty damn tense? But hold on to this—not a one of them would dare hurt you, not if they all think they need what you have.”
“Good to know. I will try to remember that, even though that didn’t work out for Paul Steiner and Luis.”
“Okay. Point taken,” she admitted reluctantly. Lola continued, “So, I said you tell the time, the place. You know the outdoor roof patio, connected to the main ballroom?”
“Do indeed. Quite the spot on a beautiful New York night.”
“Oh—and I checked that out, tomorrow night will definitely be one. Temps not too bad for mid-October. But chilly enough that you should be able to find a spot all to yourself.”
“And what? Just wait for all my new pals to show up?”
“Pretty much. But—oh, forgot one important thing.”
“I will be carrying that spare gun you forgot to give me to protect myself?”
She laughed. He decided he liked that sound. He always enjoyed making people laugh.
A nice random thought . . . before back to the business of this— to him—so far nearly insane plan.
“Nope. No weapons for you, I am afraid. One of the parties will undoubtedly have you patted down very fast anyway.”
“Makes sense. So, they show up and demand—I imagine—to know what I know?”
“Yes, and well, here—you’ve done a lot of TV? A lot of ad-libbing at times, when needed? What do they say to each other, to you? Not sure. But what I have been told is that the DA’s office hopes they all will incriminate themselves.”
Then—it dawned on Billy. “Hang on. I’ll be wearing a wire?”
“Yes. Compact, undiscoverable even if you are patted down. Remember, lot of eyes on you out there too . . . in the building. In minutes, with luck, should be all over.”
“The ‘with luck’ part doesn’t sound too reassuring.”
Then—and he did not expect this—she leaned close, only inches from his face.
“What—a man like you? All you’ve done? Oh, I think maybe”—a grin—“luck will do? My guess is you have always depended on taking a chance. Flip of the coin?”
Did she just close that distance between us a bit more?
This was getting interesting in an entirely different way.
But then, from above: “Okay, folks. We are here. Might need some help beaching her. Gotta watch the sonar . . . damn hidden rocks all over the place. But the small island is just ahead. And whatever the hell it is you are looking for.”
And with that, the moment over, Lola moved away.
Billy stood up as Willits slowed Sweet Sally and prepared to beach the boat on the small island.
* * *
Billy held the railing, the boat rocking as Willits nudged it ahead ever so slowly, hitting the shore; then he gave the engine a quick burst to jet it forward onto the beach.
Then Willits hopped down.
“Now just hope I can unbeach her when we leave.”
Lola meanwhile showed up with three shovels, handing one to Billy, then another to Willits, who took it, as if not knowing what to do with it.
“Um, I believe I am the captain? Get you two here, then back? As a favor to our local police?”
“Could use the help, Ted.”
She waited. And the man grinned. “Yeah, and hell—maybe I could use the exercise.”
Billy had to ask: “And the coordinates. The spot we are looking for?”
Willits turned to face the small island. “About fifty yards that way, into the brush, near the trees.”
“And we find it—how?”
“Oh, I have an app that goes on my phone. Connects to the ship’s satellite GPS. I’ll find it alright.”
Then he waved his shovel. “Whether we will find anything there . . . remains to be seen. Anyway—shall we get going?”
And Willits walked to the bow, stepping up to the railing. “Bit of a jump,” he said. Then he hopped down, a small splash, onto the wet sand as water lapped at the edge of the beach.
He shouted back as Billy went to the front as well.
“Ha. Got a bit wet. But no worries . . .”
Billy watched Lola toss her shovel off to the side of the beach. Step up to the front railing. Look down. With just a bit of hes- itation.
She turned back to Billy. “Tell you . . . this is a long way from Bushwick, Brooklyn, Billy Blessing.”
Then she too jumped, leaving Billy now to jump onto the sand. He could only agree with what Lola had just said.
What on earth was he doing here?
* * *
Willits acted the part of the great expedition leader, one hand holding his flashlight, the other his phone, giving him a constant readout of the coordinates.
“Okay—should only be a few more yards this way.”
And Billy followed the light, Lola next to him. He spotted crabs scooting away as Willits’s light hit the sand, probably not used to any nighttime intrusions. A light breeze blew off the water.
Billy turned around and saw—in the distance—some lights. Looked like a big ship, out there somewhere. Maybe heading east to cross the Atlantic.
It only reinforced how alone they were here.
Willits stopped and turned to them.
“Okay. Um, according to this, we have arrived.”
Lola wasted no time. She handed Willits back his shovel.
“What? I’m supposed to—”
“C’mon. Will go faster if you help. Besides, haven’t you ever wanted to dig for buried treasure?”
“No—I haven’t. Do enough of that under the water.”
Billy went to the spot Willits indicated and started digging. The sand was surprisingly heavy.
“Digging for goddamn buried treasure. On an island. Who’d believe it?”
And they all laughed at that.
* * *
But when they had gone pretty deep, they stopped . . .
Willits first, then Billy, who had built up a sweat despite the cool breeze. Then Lola.
“Um, think we have made an unfortunate discovery,” Willits said.
Lola nodded. “Yeah. Nothing here. Could your GPS-coordinate device . . . be off?”
Willits shook his head. “No—and that’s from years of using it marking dive spots, down to the foot. ’Fraid there’s nothing here, Chief.”
Billy had a question, though he feared it might be a stupid one. “Should we try some other spots?”
Willits laughed at that. “Kind of a big beach, Billy Blessing. Any spot in particular strike your fancy?”
Billy nodded. Willits certainly had a point. If the coordinates indicated here, and now, with this big hole, nothing here? Then where the hell else?
Then he had a thought—simple but obvious: they were missing something.
But Willits stuck his shovel into the sand so it would stand upright. Then walked over to him.
“You said . . . you had a picture of the clue? The coordinates leading here?”
“I do.”
Another step closer.
“Mind if I—”
And Willits came close enough so he could look, as Billy opened the Photos app, scrolled, and found the picture of what he’d found—just today—on the back of the photo of Steiner with his daughter as a baby.
Willits took his time looking. Lola had also come closer, looking at it.
While Billy waited.