The one-eyed man mentally made himself count to twenty before peering around the corner.
Nothing. He walked briskly to the next bend in the wooden frame tunnel, the tar-paper roofs flapping in the strong sea winds. Ryan stopped at the next corner and took up a position, waving Krysty and Dean over.
“Anything?” he asked the redhead.
Krysty frowned, closing her eyes. “No. Feels fine.”
“Okay, then.” Ryan leaned over and peered down an alley of boat slips.
First he saw the Patch, then he saw his friends.
J.B. was looking back at Ryan, knowing the gunshots would bring the one-eyed man running.
“What took you so damned long?” J.B. said impatiently
.
“YOU DIDN’T CHILL HIM?” Ryan asked, looking down at the heap where Bowman was sprawled, breathing heavily. The hair hanging over his forehead was plastered down with sweat.
“Nope,” Jak said.
“Why not?” Ryan asked.
“I didn’t want hear Krysty complain.”
“Don’t mistake compassion for cowardice, Jak,” Ryan said.
“You two are arguing for nothing,” Mildred interjected from where she was examining Bowman’s wound. “I can’t do anything for this man. He’ll be dead in minutes.”
“If you hadn’t chilled Boyd between the eyes, he might’ve told us something we could use,” J.B. said to the physician. “Can’t blame you, though. Knew the ‘black bitch’ crack was his signature on the death certificate.”
“Where’s Boyd now?” Ryan asked.
“Fell overboard,” Jak said innocently.
“Hear that?” Ryan said to the dying man at his feet. “Your last few minutes can go easy or harsh. Answer a few questions about your boat, and we won’t toss you in alive.”
“I want to know about this ‘Poseidon’ we heard about earlier,” J.B. added. “And Sommers.”
“He does not look much like a sailor to me,” Doc sniffed. “From his corpulent midsection, all I can think of is Captain Bligh, except that our friend has proved he lacks the proper intelligence required to be a proper despot.”
“The brains of the pair is that triple stupe floating facedown next to the boat,” J.B. commented, gesturing to the side of the dock where Boyd’s corpse was bobbing lifelessly in the water. “I know your charming companion did most of the talking, but I suggest you come up with why you two were here.”
“F-f-ferryboat,” Bowman wheezed. “Supposed to get supplies from Sommers, then head back home.”
“Home? Where’s that?” Ryan asked. “Farther south, or on up the coast?”
The dying man didn’t say anything.
Jak gave him a sharp kick in the ample waistline. “Asked question,” the albino said.
Bowman coughed violently, the sound a rattling rasp. The man turned his head to one side and spit out a mouthful of pink mucus. “Upstate,” he finally said, each word an effort. ‘ ‘Was supposed to pick up package, but it was a fixed deal. Sommers was running a scam. No warhead.”
“Warhead?” Krysty mouthed to the rest of the group.
“Where upstate?” Ryan demanded.
Bowman didn’t answer; he couldn’t, and no amount of prodding from Jak or anyone else was going to be able to pry anything more from him. His eyes were still open, but they had gone from the wide bulge of pain and suffering to a glassy and lifeless stare.
Each of the companions stood on the dock, pondering the meaning of the man’s last word.
“Warhead,” J.B. said finally. “Wonder what he was planning on carrying around in that tub?”
“Since it’s our ride out of here, we might as well take a look,” Mildred suggested.
“Warhead,” Dean mused. “Sounds triple deadly.”
“It is, son,” Ryan replied. “It is.”
Chapter Eleven
Ryan winced as the darkness surrounding him turned to blinding white light. His right eye strained to focus on the helm controls in front of him as a blast of thunder followed the lightning, a deafening crash so close he could feel the damp air press sharply on his eardrums.
“Fireblast!” he growled between clenched teeth, peering out into the night through the rain-streaked windows of the boat’s bridge. Ryan was many things, but a seaman wasn’t one of them. He had spent time on boats, but never long enough to learn the intricacies. Unfortunately none of the others on board the spacious one-hundred-foot cruiser were nautically inclined, either.