The others waited patiently around the picnic table.
"What is he doing to him in there?" asked Jenn.
Philip stared at the cabin door. "It's best if you try not to think about it. Hayes may not look like much, but he has a way with persuasion," he said.
"So this guy--do you think he's a hitman?" asked Vitus.
"Something like that, I'd imagine. He's definitely a professional, and while I don't doubt he's taken many lives, if he was strictly an assassin Hayes wouldn't be alive right now. Quite frankly, none of us would," said Philip.
"So he was only after the settee," Vitus mused.
"That would be my best guess."
"Rasputin?" asked Jenn.
"It must be. It's definitely his modus operandi. He knows about us. He may have known all along," said Philip.
This revelation sent chills down the spines of the antique-dealer and his partner.
"What do we do?" asked Vitus.
"What we've been doing," said Philip, "and pray we make it through this in one piece. Before all this is over, you two may not be the only ones going into hiding."
Hayes emerged from the cabin moments later and approached the rest of the crew. He wiped blood from his hands with an old rag that hung out of his front pocket and grinned.
"Cracked like a walnut," said Hayes. "Either our professional ain't as professional as he seems, or it's part of another trap."
"Who is he? Does he have a name?" asked Philip.
"He's a nobody. Goes by the name of Hemingway. Turns out it's one of them ironic nicknames on account of his godawful prose."
"What was his plan?"
"Grab the bench and hightail it out. The backup was to take us all out and pilot Bess here the rest of the way to his rendezvous point," said Hayes.
"And where is that?"
"Well," said Hayes, "this is the part where it gets worrisome. He's headed to Costa Verde."
Philip was silent, but the look on his face grew more and more intense every second.
"Where's that?" asked Jenn.
"That's where Jacobi lives, kiddo," said Hayes. "It's where we were going anyway."
"So one way or another, we're walking into an ambush," Vitus thought out loud.
"Exactly."
It was still just before dawn, so the world around them was dark but becoming less vague by the moment as first light crept over the eastern horizon and gave a defined shape to the coastline that lay in wait for them.
"Land ho," said Philip. "Get your guns."
"What do we do with Hemingway?" asked Hayes.
"He's a pawn. Strip the engine from his boat and let him drift. He'll wash ashore later," said Philip. "Right now we've got bigger problems."
"You got a plan?"
"Working on it."
The man called Hemingway was still tied up when Hayes dumped him back into his small boat, chair and all. He said nothing as he was pushed off into the water by himself with no way of freeing himself. His face was still in pain from the beating, but Hayes had been kind enough to leave the manuscript in his bag. If nothing else, the man called Hemingway thought this would be an excellent basis for his next story.
Having tied up that loose end, Hayes waited ten minutes and then cut off their own engine so that they would drift for awhile themselves before docking. Aristotle Jacobi owned a private dock adjacent to his beachside manor, and Hayes searched for it through the spotting scope he had liberated from the man called Hemingway's bag.
"Come here. You've gotta see this," said Hayes, calling Philip to him.
Philip peered through the spotting scope and saw Jacobi's dock straight ahead. He also noticed two long rectangular objects parked upon it.
"What are those?"
"Semis, if I had to guess," answered Hayes. "I count two."
"Must be someone from Little Mike's crew."
"Which means Rasputin is definitely outsourcing for some American labor," said Hayes. "You still got that bad feeling?"
"Yeah."
"Me too," Hayes added. "Just remember--I'm as big a fan of the guns a-blazin' method as you'll find, but we've gotta be careful here. And there's no sense in worrying about things we can't control, so we all need to focus if we're gonna make it through this."
Philip nodded.
"Don't you worry about Jacobi, kiddo. He's a tough old man."
"I know," said Philip. "But so was my father, and you remember what happened to him, don't you?"
Hayes sighed. "I'm gonna go check on the lovebirds and see if they're ready to start earning their keep."
The antique-dealer and his partner sat at the picnic table, polishing their guns. They were quiet and nervous and excited. Frankly, every possible emotion pulsed through them at varying speeds, tearing them to pieces with fear and desperation and building them back up with hope and love. They had never imagined their lives turning out this way, and though at first it was all very intoxicating to run around pointing guns at bad guys, the reality and the danger of it all began to take hold. Once again, Vitus Bethel had found himself staring at the wild, wonderful curtains of romanticism, only to have them pulled back. The world outside was horrible and gray and not at all what he thought it would be.
Jenn had found very little time in which to paint with the plastic watercolor kit she had smuggled with her in her bag. Instead, she kept herself sane by singing--not aloud, of course, but she sang in her head all her favorite music from when she was young. They were all songs that after today would be ruined for her, never again having the same connotation of innocence that had meant so much to her in the first place.
They had both come to realize that Alaska had not been quite as bad as they thought, but they could no longer turn back. That point had come and gone long, long ago. But they still had one another, and that knowledge kept them happy and, more importantly, alive.
Hayes shuffled toward them, breaking their thoughts as the soles of his boots scraped against the wooden deck. "We've got a plan," he told them. "Here's the thing--Phil and I, we're gonna be counting on the two of you, and we need to make sure you're in this. If so, we may just get outta here alive. If not, well, I'd rather not think about that right now to be honest. So are you in or are you out?"
Vitus had been waiting to hear those words ever since he saw his first heist movie, but it was Jenn who said, "We're in." Vitus nodded in support.
"Okay, then. Good to know," said Hayes. "Here's what we need you to do. I'm sure you two ain't looking forward to a gunfight, so we're dropping you off up the coast some."
"What?" asked Vitus. "We can't just leave you."
"Don't get ahead of me, son. You two'll take the bench with you and find us some transport, and then you'll get down to that dock as soon as possible to pick us up, got it?" Hayes pointed out the various locations as he spoke, and when he finished, Vitus and Jenn nodded.
"Wait," said Jenn. "That doesn't make much sense at all. Why do we even have to dock here? Can't we just go somewhere else? Or can't we all just make an escape further up the coast?"
Hayes sighed. "It's more complicated than that, kiddo. You see, Philip tends to rush into situations thinking he'll always find a way to take the upper hand, and usually, he can. Some folks may call it courage, but it looks more like a death wish from my point of view. He's dead set on this--on finding out what happened to Jacobi and probably on shooting a few folks in the process. Don't worry about us. We've been through worse than this."
"So, transport?" said Vitus.
"Transport," said Hayes. "Make it a truck."
"You've got it," said Jenn.
"Knew all along we could count on you," said Hayes.
"What is he doing to him in there?" asked Jenn.
Philip stared at the cabin door. "It's best if you try not to think about it. Hayes may not look like much, but he has a way with persuasion," he said.
"So this guy--do you think he's a hitman?" asked Vitus.
"Something like that, I'd imagine. He's definitely a professional, and while I don't doubt he's taken many lives, if he was strictly an assassin Hayes wouldn't be alive right now. Quite frankly, none of us would," said Philip.
"So he was only after the settee," Vitus mused.
"That would be my best guess."
"Rasputin?" asked Jenn.
"It must be. It's definitely his modus operandi. He knows about us. He may have known all along," said Philip.
This revelation sent chills down the spines of the antique-dealer and his partner.
"What do we do?" asked Vitus.
"What we've been doing," said Philip, "and pray we make it through this in one piece. Before all this is over, you two may not be the only ones going into hiding."
Hayes emerged from the cabin moments later and approached the rest of the crew. He wiped blood from his hands with an old rag that hung out of his front pocket and grinned.
"Cracked like a walnut," said Hayes. "Either our professional ain't as professional as he seems, or it's part of another trap."
"Who is he? Does he have a name?" asked Philip.
"He's a nobody. Goes by the name of Hemingway. Turns out it's one of them ironic nicknames on account of his godawful prose."
"What was his plan?"
"Grab the bench and hightail it out. The backup was to take us all out and pilot Bess here the rest of the way to his rendezvous point," said Hayes.
"And where is that?"
"Well," said Hayes, "this is the part where it gets worrisome. He's headed to Costa Verde."
Philip was silent, but the look on his face grew more and more intense every second.
"Where's that?" asked Jenn.
"That's where Jacobi lives, kiddo," said Hayes. "It's where we were going anyway."
"So one way or another, we're walking into an ambush," Vitus thought out loud.
"Exactly."
It was still just before dawn, so the world around them was dark but becoming less vague by the moment as first light crept over the eastern horizon and gave a defined shape to the coastline that lay in wait for them.
"Land ho," said Philip. "Get your guns."
"What do we do with Hemingway?" asked Hayes.
"He's a pawn. Strip the engine from his boat and let him drift. He'll wash ashore later," said Philip. "Right now we've got bigger problems."
"You got a plan?"
"Working on it."
***
The man called Hemingway was still tied up when Hayes dumped him back into his small boat, chair and all. He said nothing as he was pushed off into the water by himself with no way of freeing himself. His face was still in pain from the beating, but Hayes had been kind enough to leave the manuscript in his bag. If nothing else, the man called Hemingway thought this would be an excellent basis for his next story.
Having tied up that loose end, Hayes waited ten minutes and then cut off their own engine so that they would drift for awhile themselves before docking. Aristotle Jacobi owned a private dock adjacent to his beachside manor, and Hayes searched for it through the spotting scope he had liberated from the man called Hemingway's bag.
"Come here. You've gotta see this," said Hayes, calling Philip to him.
Philip peered through the spotting scope and saw Jacobi's dock straight ahead. He also noticed two long rectangular objects parked upon it.
"What are those?"
"Semis, if I had to guess," answered Hayes. "I count two."
"Must be someone from Little Mike's crew."
"Which means Rasputin is definitely outsourcing for some American labor," said Hayes. "You still got that bad feeling?"
"Yeah."
"Me too," Hayes added. "Just remember--I'm as big a fan of the guns a-blazin' method as you'll find, but we've gotta be careful here. And there's no sense in worrying about things we can't control, so we all need to focus if we're gonna make it through this."
Philip nodded.
"Don't you worry about Jacobi, kiddo. He's a tough old man."
"I know," said Philip. "But so was my father, and you remember what happened to him, don't you?"
Hayes sighed. "I'm gonna go check on the lovebirds and see if they're ready to start earning their keep."
***
The antique-dealer and his partner sat at the picnic table, polishing their guns. They were quiet and nervous and excited. Frankly, every possible emotion pulsed through them at varying speeds, tearing them to pieces with fear and desperation and building them back up with hope and love. They had never imagined their lives turning out this way, and though at first it was all very intoxicating to run around pointing guns at bad guys, the reality and the danger of it all began to take hold. Once again, Vitus Bethel had found himself staring at the wild, wonderful curtains of romanticism, only to have them pulled back. The world outside was horrible and gray and not at all what he thought it would be.
Jenn had found very little time in which to paint with the plastic watercolor kit she had smuggled with her in her bag. Instead, she kept herself sane by singing--not aloud, of course, but she sang in her head all her favorite music from when she was young. They were all songs that after today would be ruined for her, never again having the same connotation of innocence that had meant so much to her in the first place.
They had both come to realize that Alaska had not been quite as bad as they thought, but they could no longer turn back. That point had come and gone long, long ago. But they still had one another, and that knowledge kept them happy and, more importantly, alive.
Hayes shuffled toward them, breaking their thoughts as the soles of his boots scraped against the wooden deck. "We've got a plan," he told them. "Here's the thing--Phil and I, we're gonna be counting on the two of you, and we need to make sure you're in this. If so, we may just get outta here alive. If not, well, I'd rather not think about that right now to be honest. So are you in or are you out?"
Vitus had been waiting to hear those words ever since he saw his first heist movie, but it was Jenn who said, "We're in." Vitus nodded in support.
"Okay, then. Good to know," said Hayes. "Here's what we need you to do. I'm sure you two ain't looking forward to a gunfight, so we're dropping you off up the coast some."
"What?" asked Vitus. "We can't just leave you."
"Don't get ahead of me, son. You two'll take the bench with you and find us some transport, and then you'll get down to that dock as soon as possible to pick us up, got it?" Hayes pointed out the various locations as he spoke, and when he finished, Vitus and Jenn nodded.
"Wait," said Jenn. "That doesn't make much sense at all. Why do we even have to dock here? Can't we just go somewhere else? Or can't we all just make an escape further up the coast?"
Hayes sighed. "It's more complicated than that, kiddo. You see, Philip tends to rush into situations thinking he'll always find a way to take the upper hand, and usually, he can. Some folks may call it courage, but it looks more like a death wish from my point of view. He's dead set on this--on finding out what happened to Jacobi and probably on shooting a few folks in the process. Don't worry about us. We've been through worse than this."
"So, transport?" said Vitus.
"Transport," said Hayes. "Make it a truck."
"You've got it," said Jenn.
"Knew all along we could count on you," said Hayes.
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