Part 6 (1/2)

In his present mood, neither sweet reason nor an argument would move him. Without a word, Amy slid back down under the covers, letting the warmth of the brandy take hold. For a long time she looked up at the ceiling, aware of the weight of Jed's arm across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Some things, it seemed, you couldn't escape-things like nightmares and panic attacks and, Amy was inclined to believe, Jedidiah Glaze.

”Jed?”

”Hmm?”

”I think I'm going to go visit my parents.”

He was silent, but she sensed he was waiting. Amy took a deep breath. ”Do you want to come with me?”

”I thought you'd never ask.”

Amy realized she had been holding her breath. She let it out in a soft sigh. ”You're sure?”

”I'm sure.”

”I don't want you to feel obligated or anything.”

”I don't feel obligated or anything.”

”If you have other plans...”

”I don't have any other plans. I could use the vacation.”

”You're sure?”

”Shut up, Amy,” he said gently. ”I'm sure.”

Amy began to relax. She knew it was more than the brandy. She had no choice about going back to the island. Deep down, she had known she'd have to face it at some time. But having Jed along was going to make it a little easier. There was a silent strength in him that she might be able to emulate.

It wasn't just Jed's strength she wanted to study, Amy realized. She also wanted to look into her mother's eyes and try to discover what it took to live with the shadow of murder for twenty-five years. Her mother, apparently, had learned how to do it. Amy needed that secret if she wanted to keep herself from going off the deep end.

Chapter Four.

”Artie, I've had it with waiting. This thing is eating me alive. Jesus, man, it's been eight months since the last try. We've got to get moving.”

Daniel Renner gripped the telephone the way he did when he was making a pitch or closing a deal. He sat hunched forward on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared sightlessly at the gray carpet between his feet. He radiated intense excitement, as well as a deep, restless impatience that he seemed to have been born with. The world couldn't move fast enough for Renner. He was always looking forward to the next Big Deal.

Those restless and intense qualities had translated well into the business of selling. Daniel Renner could project an enthusiasm and a sense of integrity that was completely false but highly believable, which made him a natural salesman. He was twenty-six years old and had sold everything from drugs to securities.

The days of peddling illegal substances were long gone, however. Renner had discovered there was more challenge and prestige to be had dealing artificially hyped stocks and other a.s.sorted but equally shaky securities. The day he started working as an account executive in a small L.A. brokerage firm had been the day he knew he was headed in the right direction.

Typically, he had become impatient with the life of a commissioned salesman almost immediately. He had recently made the decision to open his own brokerage firm in a year or two, and he fully intended to do it in style. As usual, he'd consulted with his old friend from the drug dealing days, Artemus J. Fitzpatrick.

At Renner's urging, Fitzpatrick had also decided to abandon dealing dope for the highly profitable and socially acceptable business of selling major investments. The investments were seldom either profitable or advantageous tax shelters, but in the financial world no one seemed to mind those two minor drawbacks. Fitzpatrick had discovered-to his endless wonder and delight-that Renner was right: There were any number of people who would put their money into anything rather than give it to the government. Artemus Fitzpatrick took advantage of a seemingly universal human desire to avoid taxes at any cost while Renner concentrated on selling high risk stocks to gamblers who dreamed of hitting it big with the next IBM.

Renner Securities, Inc., Daniel had explained to Artemus, was not going to be another run-of-the-mill, street-front securities firm. It wouldn't even be located on a street. The very last type of client it would seek to attract was the casual walk-in variety. Who wanted the lobby filled with retirees watching their IBM and General Motors shares moving slowly across the board? That sort of thing was strictly low cla.s.s.

Instead, Renner Securities was to be located a discreet thirty stories up in a gla.s.s and steel high rise that carried a solid gold address on Wils.h.i.+re Boulevard. Everything would be first cla.s.s, from the hand-polished oak furniture to the hand-picked clientele.

Fitzpatrick was impressed by the plans, but then he'd known Renner since the younger man had discovered the extensive, disposable incomes professional athletes had to expend on recreational drugs.

Even in those days Daniel Renner had sought a high cla.s.s clientele. He had never stood on street corners worrying about getting knifed by an irate client. He had kept his operations discreet and by referral only.

Life hadn't been that easy for Artemus Fitzpatrick. There had been too many occasions when he had had to stand on street corners and worry about what kind of gun the next sleazy client would be carrying.

Renner had gotten him out of that dangerous world and Fitzpatrick was forever grateful. On the other hand, Fitzpatrick had made contacts and learned a few things from his miserable life on the streets that Renner had never had an opportunity to learn.

Eight months ago Daniel Renner had discovered a need for that highly practical and specialized knowledge. He'd turned to Fitzpatrick for help. It was the first time the role of benefactor had s.h.i.+fted from Renner to Fitzpatrick. Fitzpatrick had rather enjoyed that s.h.i.+ft. It was good to be the one in the know, the one who had the right contacts, the one Renner needed to carry out his plans.

”Listen, Dan, that d.a.m.n box, if it exists, has been sitting there for twenty-five years, right? It's not going anywhere, so calm down. You haven't had any choice but to wait and you know it. Don't take it out on me. Eight months ago we thought we were going to get lucky with LePage. Looked like an ideal setup when he hit it off with the daughter. But deals go sour all the time, man, you know that. When that fell through there was nothing else to do except wait for the next chance. Another few days and it's next chance time. So just take it easy, pal.”

”I've been taking it easy for eight months and I've had it.” Renner drummed his fingers on the surface of the coffee table in front of him. ”It's June already, Artie. I want to get moving.”

”You've got time. The Slaters are scheduled to leave for Europe next week, right? Everything's under control. Once they're off the island, we'll have all the time we need. Stop chewing your nails. Why the h.e.l.l are you so nervous?”

”Because things went wrong last time and I've got no guarantee they won't go wrong this time!” Renner exploded. He rose from the couch and began pacing the steel gray carpet. ”LePage was a professional, right? He was supposed to know what he was doing, right? He was a good diver, you said. He didn't mind getting his hands dirty, if necessary. Didn't mind the rough stuff. And he knew his way around a gun.

h.e.l.l, he was supposed to be a professional mercenary. Nothing was going to go wrong last time, but it did. The guy fell on his head in a pool of water and drowned. What kind of professionalism is that?”

Fitzpatrick sighed with the weary patience of one who had suffered unjust accusations all his life and had risen above them. ”He wasn't my man. I hired him for you on the recommendation of an acquaintance whose business is making such arrangements. LePage supposedly had excellent credentials.

Unfortunately, something went wrong. Maybe he proved unreliable or maybe he wasn't as good as he claimed. I'm told that cave diving is extremely hazardous.”

”You said he was an expert!”

”Even experts have problems, I've learned. Cave diving is dangerous, especially for a man diving alone.

That's why he demanded so much up front, if you'll recall.” Fitzpatrick was trying to be patient.

”And that money is gone. Vanished. Who knows what the h.e.l.l he did with it before he took that swim?”

”Calm down and stop rehas.h.i.+ng it. It's over, Dan. This is hardly the sort of thing one can take to the Better Business Bureau.”

”I don't want any mistakes this time.”

”Since you're planning to manage the next attempt yourself, I'm sure there won't be any problems,”

Fitzpatrick said soothingly. ”Just be patient a few more days. When the Slaters leave, you'll have half the island to yourself. No one will pay any attention to you. You'll be able to take your time and do it right.

I've made sure you have good men this time. Real pros.”

”What if the two guys you've hired aren't any more reliable than LePage?”

Fitzpatrick sighed again. ”I've hired the best I could find, Dan. Guthrie and Vaden come highly recommended. They've been around and they honor contracts. There are no guarantees in this sort of thing. We're paying them well and they understand that the bulk of the commission isn't to be deposited to their accounts until the box is retrieved. This time you'll be on site to supervise. That's all we can do to guarantee their, uh, professionalism.”