Elisha's Bones - Don Hoesel [76]
It’s as Angie is popping the trunk of the rental to stow her belongings that the driver’s door of the Lexus opens and my heart is shocked nearly to stopping to see Hardy step out. Even through my disbelief I start to move before Hardy is all the way out of the car. But he raises a gun before I can gain more than two feet. He’s wearing the ever-present dark suit, only this time it’s accessorized with sunglasses.
“Hello, Dr. Hawthorne,” he says.
I have never wanted to punch someone in the teeth more than I do at this moment.
He gestures with the gun. “To the beach,” he says, no doubt realizing that anyone would come up from the busier Palm Beach side and see what’s happening here. When we do not comply, he makes a move toward Angie.
“To the beach, or I will kill Ms. Bernard right here. The trunk is open; it would be quite a while before someone finds the body.”
Espy and I start back for the beach, and it’s only when we have almost reached the white sand that I realize Hardy used Angie’s last name. It’s proof that my phone is indeed bugged, and that Hardy can access avenues of information as easily as I can with Duckey.
Hardy marches us toward the Barrenjoey Head. I know that if he succeeds in herding us there, we’re all dead. If he hides the bodies in just the right spot, it could be a year before someone finds us.
I stop and turn to face the man.
“There’s no reason for you to involve anyone but me,” I say. “Let them go and you can do whatever you have to do.”
Hardy has his gun pressed into Angie’s side and, while she’s doing an admirable job of maintaining her composure, she looks only a handbreadth away from giving in to her fear.
“It can’t be that way, Dr. Hawthorne. Dr. Habilla knows too much.” He grins and jabs Angie in the side with the gun and I see a single tear roll down her cheek. “And it’s your fault that Ms. Bernard is caught up in this now.”
“Like Alem’nesh was caught up in it?” I accuse.
A flash of what appears to be genuine puzzlement appears on Hardy’s face.
“Who?”
“The priest you killed in Addis Ababa.”
“I can assure you that I wasn’t involved in any operation that called for the killing of a priest.”
I don’t know why, but I believe him. Something in his manner tells me he wouldn’t dance around the subject. If he’d killed Alem’nesh, he would have no qualms about admitting it.
“If you’re going to kill us no matter what,” I say, “then I’m not walking anymore. If you want to kill me, you’ll have to do it right here.”
Hardy seems to give this serious thought and, as he does, I realize I’ve made a mistake. In a situation like this, isn’t it a cardinal rule that you prolong the inevitable for as long as you can; that the longer you stay alive, the more the chance increases that something unexpected might happen? Now I’ve given him an ultimatum that can only end one way.
“Very well, then,” he says, pointing the gun at me. It happens in slow motion that I see his finger tighten on the trigger and for the second time in just a few days I find myself hoping that it won’t hurt. I don’t have time to steel myself, or to offer even a quick apology to these two women who will die with me.
I hear a crack, and Angie screams, and my eyes snap shut. A few ticks pass before I realize I’m not dead. I open my eyes and see Hardy still standing, the gun still pointed. A trickle of red runs down his nose and, when I reach over and grab Angie by the arm, pulling her away from him, he tumbles forward into the sand.
The bullet took most of his skull when it exited, and I feel Angie growing faint as she sees the gory sight.
“We have to go!” I say.
I don’t know who fired the shot, only that it came from behind me, hitting Hardy with a single shot from an impressive distance, if my recollection of sound versus projectile speed is even half accurate. It means we’re sitting ducks.