Shoot First(Stone Barrington #45)(14)

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—

THE HARBOR was empty of other boats, and Stone was glad of it. “Dino, Viv, and I were out here last Christmas,” he said to Meg.

“Tell me about the fort,” Meg asked.

“It was built sometime before the Civil War, and during the war it was used as a prison for Union deserters. The only reason a lot of people ever heard of it was when there was a yellow fever epidemic on the island, and Dr. Samuel Mudd was imprisoned here for the crime of aiding and abetting John Wilkes Booth after he assassinated Abraham Lincoln. Booth had broken his leg when he jumped from Lincoln’s box to the stage at Ford’s Theatre, and he fled into Maryland, where he stopped at Dr. Mudd’s house for help along the road south. Mudd knew Booth but treated him anyway and didn’t report him until the following day. As a result, he was convicted along with the other conspirators and sentenced to life in prison.

“He was sent to Fort Jefferson, and while he was here yellow fever broke out, and Mudd heroically saved many lives, for which he was eventually pardoned by the President.”

“I hope there’s no yellow fever now,” Meg said.

“Nope, it’s now a national park.”

They had a drink, and Dino and Viv grilled steaks for dinner.



* * *



—

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, after a good breakfast and a Bloody Mary, Stone broke out the rubber dinghy from its locker and inflated it, then launched it over the stern and fastened the outboard to it.

Viv pleaded freckles, and Dino stayed with her, while Stone and Meg took the dinghy to Loggerhead Key, a mile or so away.

“It looks deserted,” Meg said. “Can I go without a suit here?”

“I’m counting on it,” Stone said. “Tan lines aren’t allowed on Loggerhead.” He pulled the dinghy up onto the beach; they left their swimsuits aboard and swam for a while, then got out and let the wind dry them as they walked up the beach.



* * *



—

DIRTY JOE CROSS and Jungle Jane Jillian approached Fort Jefferson slowly, then saw a couple leave the moored yacht in a rubber dinghy. He took a look through his glasses. “Bingo,” he said. “And they seem to be heading for Loggerhead.”

With Jane at the helm they motored slowly along on a route parallel to the beach, and Joe went below and came back with an AR-15–style assault rifle and shoved a banana clip into it, watching as the couple swam, then walked up the beach.

“Man, she looks good naked,” Joe said.

“Watch out or I’ll kick your ass,” Jane replied.

He knew she would, too. “Okay, okay, just drift for a while. I can’t hit anything if we’re under way.”

Jane did as instructed. “How close in do you want to be?”

“A hundred yards or so, and go at idle speed.”

She slowly closed the gap between them and the beach.

“They haven’t even seen us,” Joe said. “This is going to be a piece of cake.”

“Who’s the guy?” Jane asked.

“Who gives a shit?” Joe came back. “If he gets in the way, he’s dead meat. This is a good distance. Take the engines out of gear, but be ready to leave fast, toward Key West.”

Jane put the engines into neutral, and they idled, adrift.

Joe tried standing, but couldn’t get steady enough. He knelt and braced the rifle against the gunwale of the boat; he checked the wind and distance, adjusted the scope, and checked the view. Looking good.



* * *



—

STONE AND MEG walked along on the wet sand at the water’s edge, then she stopped and pulled him around toward her. He took her in his arms and pressed her against his body, then kissed her.



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—

JOE SIGHTED through the scope and took a good look. A head shot wasn’t going to do it; even a little movement of the boat made that an unlikely hit. The woman’s back was to him, and he placed the crosshairs between her shoulder blades, took a deep breath, let it out, then began to squeeze the trigger. As he fired he felt a breeze on the back of his neck and swore.

Stone felt a breeze, too, at the moment he heard the crack of the rifle. He swept Meg’s legs from under her, and they both hit the sand.





11




Stone looked around for shelter; no trees, not even shrubs for fifty yards, and he didn’t want to get any farther from the dinghy. He looked out at the boat off the beach: it had begun to turn slowly away from them. A man stood up, holding a rifle, and Stone could hear him swearing.



* * *



—

“TURN THE GODDAMNED thing back on course!” the man yelled at a woman who was at the helm. She put the engines into gear and started to turn back toward them.



* * *



—

“QUICK!” Stone said to Meg. He helped her to her feet, grabbed her hand, and they ran away from the beach, toward some dunes, diving behind the nearest one as the rifle could be heard again and flying sand scattered around them. “Keep your belly on the ground,” Stone said to Meg, “and crawl back toward the dinghy. The dune gets higher as we go.” Then he heard automatic fire and hugged the sand beneath him. The guy with the rifle was swearing again, yelling instructions at the woman. Stone looked up, and the boat was again stern to their position. “Okay, let’s go,” he said to Meg, and they began crawling as fast as they could. Shots rang out again, but hit the top of the dune behind them. The shooter had lost their position. “Lie very still, now,” he said.