Chapter 16
Icalled dispatch and asked for backup.
The van barreled down the avenue and took a hard right on Clearwater Boulevard. Tires howled, and inertia lifted the van onto two wheels for an instant.
Jack followed around the corner and downshifted.
I held on as inertia threw me toward the left side of the vehicle.
The shifter kicked back against Jack’s palm, popping out of gear with a metallic snarl. The tach revved, and we lost momentum.
The van pulled away.
Jack stabbed the clutch, blipped the throttle, and jammed it back into 2nd gear.
“Can’t find it, grind it,” I snarked.
Jack scowled at me and stood on the gas. These older Porsches weren’t horsepower beasts. Slow by modern standards, but their quirky handling and tactile feedback made them gems from an analogue era.
“You need new synchros,” I said.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
It was a common problem with the 915 gearbox. Not a cheap fix, but nothing was on these cars.
We caught up to the van as they came to a stop at Stone Crab, waiting on cross traffic. The passenger hung a pistol out of the window and blasted a few shots at us.
Muzzle flashed from the barrel.
Bullets snapped by, narrowly missing the Porsche.
The van took off, barreling across two lanes of traffic. It reached the median, then threaded the needle, darting left into traffic.
Jack had to wait for another gap.
A few cars passed, then he dumped the clutch. The tires gripped the concrete and launched us forward. He skipped the problematic second gear and threw it into third as we rounded the corner, but without the torque, we got passed by a small import four-banger.
The van took another right a few blocks ahead on Turnbull Lane.
We finally caught up and followed.
Avoiding second gear was a little problematic around town and definitely gave the perps the advantage.
By that time, Tango One was in the air and had a visual on the van.
It's hard to outrun a helicopter.
But these guys were going to give it the good old college try.
We stayed with them as best we could. After a few twists and turns, the perps pulled into the parking garage of an office complex, getting out of the line of sight of Tango One.
By the time we got into the garage, the vehicle was parked in the middle of the lane, the doors wide open. The perps were long gone. They had taken off on foot and disappeared into the building, most likely.
Patrol cars screeched onto the scene and surrounded the premises.
JD and I pulled in behind the van, hopped out, and drew our weapons. We flanked the van and approached with caution.
I advanced alongside the vehicle and angled my pistol into the front cabin.
Empty.
We hustled around to the rear and pulled open the cargo doors. Henrik was still strapped in.
The sedative had started to wear off, but he was still a little groggy.
“I’m beginning to think Henrik is a high-value asset,” Jack said.
Maybe he was.
Deputies searched the office building, and more patrol units arrived on the scene.
The patter of Tango One thumped overhead as the helicopter kept circling.
A search of the building turned up nothing.
Deputies Erickson and Faulkner discovered scrubs in a stall in one of the bathrooms. The perps had likely stashed a change of clothes in advance and walked out of the building like nothing had happened.
A fallout location in case things had gone south.
It showed they had some sophistication and foresight.
We found out later that the van had been stolen but hadn’t been reported. The company had gone out of business two months ago, and all the vehicles had been sitting in a lot surrounded by a chain-link fence, rimmed with concertina wire. Nobody knew the van was even missing.
We waited for the sheriff to arrive on the scene and caught him up to speed. He gave me one of those looks as I recounted the details.
“You expect me to believe that nonsense?” Daniels said.
“I don’t know what to believe myself,” I replied. “Obviously, Henrik has something people want. We can’t exactly bring him back to the Blissful Shores. They don’t have adequate security. They’re not prepared to deal with this kind of thing.”
“Does he have any next of kin on the island he can stay with?”
“As far as I know, he’s got a granddaughter. But I doubt she is equipped to deal with any threats.”
“What are you suggesting?”
I shrugged and shared a look with JD. We were both on the same wavelength.
“We can look after him for a few days,” I said.
Daniels lifted a doubtful eyebrow. “You two nincompoops don’t know the first thing about caring for the elderly.”
“Well, Jack’s elderly,” I deadpanned.
He shot me a scowl.
“Henrik is our only connection to Rudolf Weiss, or Heissler, or whoever he is, depending on what you believe,” I said.
“It’s not your call,” the sheriff said. “Talk to the granddaughter. Work it out with her. And for God’s sake, Wild, keep him out of trouble.”
Henrik was a little more coherent now.
I approached and laid out his options. "I don't think you're safe at the Blissful Shores.”
"I don’t think I’m safe there either. Everybody who goes into that place dies sooner or later," he said, not having lost his sense of humor.
"How do you feel about staying with us on the boat for a few days? We can look after you while we solve this case.”
He considered it for a moment. “What kind of boat?”
“A nice one.”
“You got internet?”
I chuckled. “Yes.”
“What about girls? You got girls?”
“At times.”
He thought for another moment. “Anything is better than the Blissful Shores. Ought to call it Bed Sores.”
I smiled. “What’s your granddaughter’s number? I’ll give her a call.”
Henrik thought about it for a moment. “I don’t really know. It’s in my phone, but I don’t seem to have my phone.”
“No worries. I’ll figure it out. What’s her name?”
He told me.
I called Denise and had her run background. It wasn’t too hard to pull up his granddaughter’s DMV info.
“She’s cute,” Denise said, looking at Giselle’s picture with a hint of jealousy in her voice. “Are you sure this is related to the case?”
I chuckled. “Yes.”
She gave me the number. “Stay out of trouble.”
Giselle was 28 and lived in the Seabreeze Flats.
I dialed her number, and it went straight to voicemail. “Giselle, this is Deputy Wild. I’m here with your grandfather. Everything is okay, but I need you to call me at your earliest convenience.”
Paris Delaney and her crew arrived. They captured footage of the circling chopper and patrol cars with flashing lights.
With Henrik secure in the van, I drove him back to the marina at Diver Down. Might as well make use of the vehicle. I wore gloves and tried not to contaminate anything. I pulled around to the dock.
Jack followed, and we unloaded him.
“I don’t need a wheelchair,” he grumbled.
“Are you sure?”
He waved me off and attempted to stand. Henrik was a little shaky, but he stood up and collected his balance.
I stood by, ready to catch him if he teetered.
Henrik wobbled a little as he took a few steps, then steadied himself.
I took cautious steps beside him. “Do you need a cane?”
“No, I don’t need a cane,” he said, annoyed.
Watching him walk was a little nerve-racking.
We made it to the Avventura, eventually.
Henrik grabbed the railing and started the march across the passerelle to the aft deck of the superyacht.
Buddy waited, his nose against the glass of the salon door, barking with excitement.
After some labored steps, we made it aboard. I helped Henrik across the aft deck.
"You doing okay?"
"I'm not an invalid," he barked.
I opened the door and held Buddy back to keep him from knocking Henrik over. After introductions were made, I escorted Henrik across the salon to the sofa and helped him take a seat. Buddy nuzzled up to him. Henrik had a new friend, whether he wanted one or not.
"Can I get you anything to eat or drink?" I asked.
"You got a beer?”
"I think maybe we should hold off on the beer for a moment.”
"I was drinking beer before you were born, son."
I laughed. "I'm sure you were. Let's talk to Giselle first.”
Henrik scowled at me. "What does she know? She's no fun either.”
“Keep an eye on him,” I said to Jack. “Don’t get in any trouble.”
Jack stayed with Henrik while I hustled back down the dock to the van.
I loaded the wheelchair in, hopped inside, and drove to the property department, where I logged it in as evidence.
Forensic investigators would go over the van, looking for trace DNA, fingerprints, and anything else that might lead us to the perpetrators.
I caught a rideshare back to the marina. By the time I boarded the boat, Henrik and Jack were watching the game, drinking beer.
I glared at JD and snatched both the drinks from the coffee table. That earned me dirty looks. “We have no idea what kind of medication he’s on and how this might interact.”
“I’m not on any medication,” Henrik snarled.
I didn’t believe it for a second.
Henrik muttered to Jack, “We need to lose the party pooper.”
Jack laughed.
I took the beer into the galley, then returned to the salon. I scolded Jack. “We’re responsible for him as long as he’s on this boat. So let’s try to avoid any incidents.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my time clock’s a little short,” Henrik said. “Might as well have a little fun on the way out.”
“I don’t want you going out on my watch.”
“Like you have any say in the matter. Fate has its own plans.” He smiled.
It was at that moment that I realized I had become the parent of two adult children. He and Jack were trouble, and I was outnumbered.
My phone buzzed with a call from Giselle.