Molly clicked the remote. “This is the Schaus’ swallowtail butterfly.”
“Now that’s pretty,” said Danny Pogue. “I can see wanting to save somethin” like that. Isn’t that a pretty butterfly, Bud?”
“Beautiful,” said Bud Schwartz. “Really gorgeous. Next?”
Molly asked why he was in such a hurry.
“No reason,” he replied.
Danny Pogue snickered. “Maybe ’cause there’s a movie he wants to see on cable.”
“Really?” Molly said. “Bud, you should’ve told me. We can always continue the orientation tomorrow.”
“That’s okay,” Bud Schwartz said. “Go on with the program.”
“Amazon Cheerleaders,” said Danny Pogue. “We seen the ending the other night.”
Molly said, “I don’t believe I’ve heard of that one.”
“Get on with the slides,” said Bud Schwartz gloomily. Of all the partners he’d ever had, Danny Pogue was turning out to be the dumbest by a mile.
A picture of something called a Key Largo wood rat appeared on the slide screen, and Danny exclaimed: “Hey, it looks just like one a them voles!”
“Not really,” said Molly McNamara patiently. “This hardy little fellow is one of five endangered species native to the North Key Largo habitat.” She went on to explain the uniqueness of the island—hardwood hammocks, brackish lakes and acres of precious mangroves. And, only a few miles offshore, the only living coral reef in North America. “Truly a tropical paradise,” said Molly McNamara, “which is why it’s worth fighting for.”
As she clicked through the rest of the slides, Bud Schwartz was thinking: How hard would it be to overpower the old bat and escape? Two grown men with six functional limbs, come on. Just grab the frigging purse, take the gun—what could she do?
The trouble was, Bud Schwartz wasn’t fond of guns. He didn’t mind stealing them, but he’d never pointed one at anybody, never fired one, even at a tin can. Getting shot by Molly McNamara had only reinforced his view that guns were a tool for the deranged. He knew the law, and the law smiled on harmless unarmed house burglars. A burglar with a gun wasn’t a burglar anymore, he was a robber. Not only did robbers get harder time, but the accommodations were markedly inferior. Bud Schwartz had never been up to Raiford but he had a feeling he wouldn’t like it. He also had a hunch that if push came to shove, Danny Pogue would roll over like a big dumb puppy. Do whatever the cops wanted, including testify.
Bud Schwartz decided he needed more time to think.
A new slide came up on the screen and he told Molly McNamara to wait a second. “Is that an endangered species, too?” he asked.
“Unfortunately not,” Molly said. That’s Francis X. Kingsbury, the man who’s destroying the island.”
Danny Pogue lifted his chin out of his hands and said, “Yeah? How?”
“Mr. Kingsbury is the founder and chief executive officer of the Amazing Kingdom of Thrills—the so-called amusement park you boys raided the other day. It’s a tourist trap, plain and simple. It brings traffic, garbage, litter, air pollution, effluent—Kingsbury cares nothing about preserving the habitat. He’s a developer.”
The word came out as an epithet.
Bud Schwartz studied the jowly middle-aged face on the screen. Kingsbury was smiling, and you could tell it was killing him. His nose was so large that it seemed three-dimensional, a huge mottled tuber of some kind, looming out of the wall.
“Public enemy number one,” said Molly. She glared at the picture on the screen. “Yes, indeed. The park is only a smokescreen. We’ve got reason to believe that Mr. Kingsbury holds the majority interest in a new golfing resort called Falcon Trace, which abuts the Amazing Kingdom. We have reason to believe that Kingsbury’s intention is to eventually bulldoze every square inch of ocean waterfront. You know what that means?”
Danny Pogue pursed his lips. Bud Schwartz said nothing; he was trying to guess where the old coot was heading with this.
Molly said, “It means no more crocodiles, no more wood rats, no more swallowtail butterflies.”
“No more butterflies?” Danny Pogue looked at her with genuine alarm. “What kinda bastard would do something like that?”
“This kind,” said Molly, aiming a stern papery finger at the screen.