Isle Royale Part 16

Ian was edgy, anxious to get on with their task. But Sally held him back a moment, waiting to see if the thug would move away from the tree, perhaps to make his rounds. When it was apparent that the man was staying right where he was, the teenagers crept off behind him, then made their way quietly to the door of the oil house. For a few brief moments, Ian was terrified that the man would turn and spy them, raising the alarm. But he never did, and the two soon slipped inside unnoticed.

Ian and Sally stood inside the darkened oil house for a few moments, letting their eyes adjust to the darkness. The revolving beam from the nearby lighthouse flashed through the partly opened doorway behind them, helping them see. Large barrels of kerosene and fuel oil were stacked in the single room, along with a collection of gardening tools and a few work s.h.i.+rts stored near the door.

"Grab one," Ian said to Sally as he picked up a s.h.i.+rt and began ripping it to shreds. Immediately realizing Ian's plan, Sally picked up a s.h.i.+rt and followed suit, tearing it into long, thin strips. Soon, they had several cloth strips, which they tied together and dipped in a barrel of kerosene, making one long fuse. Ian dropped an end into a barrel of fuel, then laid the remainder out on the ground, making his way toward the door.

"Well, now what?" asked Sally when their work was finished.

Ian picked up two shovels and handed one to Sally.

"We need a light."

The lone guard still stood watch under the tree, trying in vain to shelter himself from the wind. d.a.m.n this weather, he thought. Of all the nights to pull sentry duty. He took a deep drag on his cigarette and then hunched down, cursing his luck as a chill gust of wind blew up his coat.

The man heard a heavy thud. He jerked his head around, suddenly alert. The wind hit him in the face, rain snuffing out his cigarette. The noise seemed to have come from inside the oil house. Spitting out the sodden cigarette, he raised his Tommy gun, squinting his eyes as he tried to see through the wind and rain. A chill went through his body as he saw the door of the fuel house ajar, slowly b.u.mping against the sill from the force of the wind. He advanced slowly, cautiously, one nervous finger twitching on the finger of his gun.

"Who's in there?" the thug called out, peering into the darkness. No response. After thinking a moment, he raised his gun to his shoulder and, once again showing his stupidity, quickly stepped inside.

The man stood just within the darkened entryway to the oil house, muscles tensed, gun at the ready. He could see nothing but darkness, his eyes not yet adjusted to the dim light. Suddenly, the beam of the lighthouse swung through the open doorway. The man gasped as he caught a glimpse of Ian standing off to the side, a heavy iron shovel held high.

Ian swung with all his might, beaning the guard on the head with a metallic clank that echoed inside the little room.

"Ow!" cried the guard, dropping his gun and grabbing his head, just in time to receive a kick to the s.h.i.+n. The poor fellow grabbed his leg and turned away to protect himself, but his eyes bugged out when he came face to face with a second attacker, Sally this time, wielding another shovel. She let her weapon fly, conking the guard on his already-sore head. Another clank echoed off the walls. He turned away, only to be hit again by Ian.

"Stop hitting me!" he cried. "Stop hitting me!" The man tried covering himself as the two frantic teenagers alternately hit him in the head with the shovels and kicked at his s.h.i.+ns.

Finally, Sally got in a final headshot with the shovel. A thunderous clang echoed inside the room. The thug stiffened, his eyes rolling back in their sockets, a stupid grin plastered on his face, and then he fell stiff-as-a-board onto his back, sending up a cloud of dust as he hit the floor.

Chapter Thirty-Four.

Collene struggled to help Clarence to his feet, then half-led, half-dragged him to the couch. The dazed lightkeeper touched his fingers to his b.l.o.o.d.y, bruised face and winced. He coughed once and spit out part of a broken tooth. Leaning back on the soft cus.h.i.+ons, he tilted his head back, fighting to stay conscious. Collene leaned down and whispered to him. "Stay with us, Clarence. Don't you go now." She looked into his eyes and saw Jean LeBeck reflected there, standing in the middle of the room, stone-faced and silent.

Collene whirled on her former lover. She felt her pulse pounding in her head, her bloodstream still surging with the flow of adrenaline from watching the fight. She glared at LeBeck, her eyes ablaze with hate.

But LeBeck saw none of it. Why had she cursed him earlier? Simple hysteria. She would come around, he was sure. Hadn't he proved himself in combat? Didn't she see how much he loved her?

"Go get your bags, Collene," LeBeck said evenly, taking a step toward her. "We'll wait out the storm on my yacht. Then we'll get away from this rock."

Collene snapped then. Without thinking, she flew into a rage and rushed LeBeck, hands and legs flailing, trying with all her might to erase him from the Earth. LeBeck's men were so surprised they didn't have time to react. "Leave us alone!" she screamed. "I'll never love you! Never!"

Taken aback by the a.s.sault, LeBeck threw his hands up to protect his face, but Collene began landing solid blows to his head and neck. "Collene, please..."

"I hate you!" she shrieked. Through the flurry of strikes, she managed to get a hand past LeBeck's defenses and raked him across the face with her fingernails.

LeBeck felt a searing pain shoot through his left cheek. Suddenly, he was in a muddy foxhole back in France, with star-sh.e.l.ls exploding overhead, an eerie red incandescent light was.h.i.+ng over everything. Someone was in the foxhole with him, a red form that attacked him relentlessly-the enemy. LeBeck had no choice. It was kill or be killed. He snarled and drew his fist back, then struck at the attacking form. He heard a satisfying pop as he felt soft flesh give way under the force of the blow.

Collene went down hard, cras.h.i.+ng to the wooden floor with a thud. She turned over, sobbing, then saw LeBeck standing over her, his face transformed into the mad beast she'd seen earlier. "I hate you!" she screamed at him again.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n you then!" LeBeck roared back at her. He pulled his ma.s.sive .45 from its holster. "If I can't have you, then n.o.body will." He turned and leveled the pistol at Clarence, who gazed up helplessly. "d.a.m.n you all."

The yellow-red flame from the match burned bright in the murky darkness of the oil house, illuminating Ian's face. His hand trembled slightly as he cupped his other hand around the match, trying to keep the wind blowing in from the open doorway from extinguis.h.i.+ng it. Finally, the flame steadied. Ian bent down and touched it to the kerosene-soaked cloth fuse the teenagers had fas.h.i.+oned. With a whoosh, the fuse caught fire, quickly spreading back toward the center of the room where the barrels of fuel oil sat, ready to explode.

Ian scooped up the Tommy gun lying on the floor and then rushed out of the room. As he exited he b.u.mped into Sally, who had just finished dragging the still-unconscious thug outside, placing him against the outer wall of the oil house. Ian grabbed Sally by the arm and tugged her away. "Go!" he shouted. "Go!"

The teenagers took off across the yard, running for Ian's house. Ian fully expected to be knocked off his feet at any second, but they somehow made it across the yard. Just as they rounded the corner to the house and knelt down, a huge explosion rocked the night.

The roof of the oil house blew clean off, disintegrating under a pillar of fire that shot fifty feet into the night sky. Sally screamed as the window above them shattered from the force of the blast. As the Earth trembled beneath them, they were knocked clean off their feet, landing on the wet ground amid jagged shards of gla.s.s.

Inside the living room, Jean LeBeck lowered his pistol as bedlam erupted around him. Screaming filled his ears, and through the shattered window he heard flames roaring somewhere close by. "What the h.e.l.l was that?" he shouted above the din. LeBeck whirled around, wild eyed. He gestured to his thugs, who stood there in the room with stunned, stupid expressions plastered to their faces. "Get out there and find out what happened!" he commanded, waving his pistol at them.

Back on the lawn, Ian and Sally rose to a crouch. They watched as the thugs came barreling out of the house, like army ants swarming to repel an invasion. Gangsters seemed to be coming out of the woodwork, running out of the forest, the lighthouse, the other house and sheds, all gathering at the burning oil house, trying in vain to douse the raging inferno.

"Come on," Ian said tersely, hefting the Tommy gun to his shoulder and standing. Amid the confusion, he and Sally crept unnoticed through the front door.

Inside the living room, LeBeck peered out the shattered window, parting the curtains with his hook hand, pistol held tightly in his good hand, which dangled at his side. "What the h.e.l.l happened?" he repeated, squinting at the flames shooting out of the small round building in the middle of the compound.

"Oil house exploded," Clarence said. He felt stronger now, at least strong enough to get in one last barb before LeBeck started shooting them. "One of your goons smoking again, no doubt."

LeBeck turned his head and scowled at the lightkeeper, then returned his gaze to the window.

Clarence opened his mouth to make another quip, but suddenly he froze, choking back his words. He saw Ian and Sally emerge from the shadows of the hallway as they crept silently into the room.

LeBeck, still peering out the window at the spectacle of his men trying to put out the fire, finally turned around. He froze stiff when he discovered the muzzle of a Tommy gun pointed directly at his stomach. He looked up, his jaw actually dropping open when he saw Ian grinning back at him.

"Drop it." Ian gestured with the Tommy gun. LeBeck, too stunned to do anything else, dropped his pistol to the floor, then stood with his arms raised.

The two families leapt off their seats toward the two teenagers, even the wobbly Clarence. "Ian!" he cried out, despite the pain. "Ach, it's good t' see ye, laddie! Where's the rest o' the rescue party?"

"We're it, Dad," Ian said, keeping his eyes and the Tommy gun trained on LeBeck.

Sally reached in and wrapped a towel around the smuggler's hook hand. "Don't try anything," she said through clenched teeth. He stared at her through narrowed, hostile eyes.

LeBeck, silent until now, finally turned to Ian. He said sweetly, "You wouldn't still have my locket, now, would you, boy?"

Ian pushed the muzzle of the gun right in LeBeck's face. "You're lucky I don't shoot you right now."

Sally picked up LeBeck's heavy Colt with both hands and pocketed it, then gathered the families and herded them toward the door. She stopped just long enough to receive a hug from her grandma and father, who, despite a pale color and awful hacking cough, still cracked a warm smile when she kissed his cheek. "Glad to have you back, honey," he whispered hoa.r.s.ely.

Ian stepped back from LeBeck and waved the Tommy gun toward the door. "Out," he snapped. "We're going for a walk."

The group filed down the front steps one by one, Sally leading the way, followed by her family and Ian's. The grownups were still dazed from the commotion, and followed the teenagers' instructions wordlessly. Bringing up the rear was Ian, marching just behind LeBeck, gun muzzle jammed into the smuggler's back. Ian had left the Tommy gun behind, replacing it with LeBeck's own pistol so that he might conceal the weapon better. Even so, the gun was ma.s.sive in Ian's hands; his arm muscles strained from the weight. LeBeck trudged on ahead, quietly, waiting for the right moment to break away and cry for help. Ian was keenly aware of the precariousness of their situation. He kept his trigger finger at the ready, though he wasn't quite prepared to shoot a man in the back, not even LeBeck (though the thought had flashed through his mind).

By now the storm had ebbed again, though the wind still tore at the group's clothing. Ian s.h.i.+vered violently, a wind gust smacking him like an icy fist. He'd grabbed two blankets from a hall closet on their way out of the house, giving one to Sally and wrapping the other over his own shoulders. The walk up the path to the lighthouse had got his blood running, but now he was feeling the effects of hypothermia gripping him. Got to stay alert, he warned himself. Escape first, then find someplace warm.

Ian glanced back over his shoulder at the remains of the oil house, which still burned bright. He almost wished he could join the gangsters who were running around, vainly trying to figure out a way to extinguish the flames. Ian sighed. A bonfire would feel good on his skin.

Just then, Ian sensed LeBeck slowing down, which snapped him out of his train of thought. He jabbed the smuggler hard in the back with the pistol. "Keep moving," Ian growled, trying to sound tough despite his chattering teeth.

Under cover of darkness and the confusion of the oil house fire, the group made it undetected to the edge of the woods and the path leading down to the dock. Just before they were about to descend, Clarence hesitated, then stopped, turning to gaze back at the lighthouse. Perched on the edge of the cliff, with the sound of surf roaring far below, the lamp turned slowly, sending its beam out over the storm-blackened lake.

"Dad!" Ian shouted above the wind. "Come on!"

"The light," Clarence said, still gazing back. "There's still s.h.i.+ps out there."

LeBeck spoke up for the first time since they'd left the house. "That's right, Clarence. Can't leave it unattended, can we?"

"Shut up!" Ian said, jamming the gun harder into LeBeck's kidney. The wind picked up, blasting them in the face. "Dad!"

Clarence looked to his son, hesitated a moment longer, then turned reluctantly away.

Down at the dock, two miserable-looking thugs on guard duty glanced up from their small fire, over which they had been huddling to keep warm. They saw the odd sight of their boss leading the two families down the path toward them. As the group drew near, LeBeck suddenly smiled and waved at the men. "Rough night for guard duty, eh?" he said cheerfully.

The thugs looked at each other, puzzled at LeBeck's uncharacteristic good-natured banter. Was this some sort of test?

"Thought I'd give these folks a little tour of the yacht," LeBeck said as he strolled past. The thugs stood aside to let the group pa.s.s.

Once on the dock, Ian, Sally, and their families headed for the launch used to shuttle LeBeck and his thugs back and forth to the yacht. They piled into the small boat, which was tied up at the end of the dock, leaving LeBeck to stand alone on the platform. Behind him on sh.o.r.e, the two thugs silently watched the spectacle.

Ian crouched at the bow, keeping the gun hidden under his coat, though it was still trained on LeBeck. He quickly untied the bowline, then felt the boat begin to slip away from the dock. He jerked his head up when he noticed LeBeck take a step backward. "Stop," warned Ian, causing LeBeck to freeze. "Now stand there and wave until we're gone." He flashed his gun briefly and grinned. "If you're good, maybe I won't shoot."

The little boat bobbed up and down on the choppy water as Sally started the engine. Ian reached out and pushed off the pier. Soon the launch was heading out into dark water.

Collene glanced back over her shoulder. For one brief moment she locked eyes with LeBeck, who stood silently on the dock. She saw a great sadness in his eyes, a crus.h.i.+ng pain wrought by loss and despair. Collene felt an impulse wash over her, a crazy urge to leap out of the boat and swim to him, wrap him in her arms, care for him, take the pain away.

Then, suddenly enough to make her gasp, she saw the lizard eyes return. Collene sat there, stunned, watching the thing on the dock staring back at her with malevolent eyes, and wondered how she could ever have loved someone with a soul so malignant, so filled with hate and self-loathing. How could she have not seen it? Was she that blind?

She'd lost her way, she finally decided. She'd lost her way in the storm.

Collene felt a hand touch her arm then. She turned and saw Clarence, his face bruised and swollen. He looked deeply into her eyes, then slowly, painfully, curled his lips upward. Though his smile was feeble, his eyes twinkled brightly. Collene, tears welling up in her own eyes, leaned forward and laid her head on his shoulder. She let out a sigh as her lightkeeper held her tightly in his arms.

Sally carefully steered the little boat across the water, purposefully keeping distance between them and LeBeck's yacht, which sat at anchor in the middle of the harbor. Ian, still at the bow with his gun trained on the receding figure of LeBeck, stole a glance toward the huge boat. The deck appeared deserted, but they were taking no chances. In just another minute, they would be clear of the harbor and onto the open lake. Out of the fire and into the frying pan, Ian thought. He looked back at LeBeck and felt a smile creeping onto his face. "At least we beat that b.a.s.t.a.r.d," he said outloud.

Back on the dock, LeBeck stood rigid, trembling, his good hand bunched in a fist, knuckles sheet white. His hook dangled loosely, sharp metal gleaming menacingly in the light from the lighthouse on the cliffs high above.

How could she leave him? LeBeck pondered the question as he stood there, the wind tugging at him. What had he done to deserve this? Surely, Collene would demand that they stop the boat and return, any minute now. She still loved him, he was certain. Come on, Collene. Stop the boat. Come back to me. At least give me back the locket.

Then he heard laughter drifting across the water. LeBeck's heart froze solid when he saw Ian looking back at him from the boat, his mouth open and laughter pouring forth. The boy, raged LeBeck. It's his fault. LeBeck's face went beet red as his whole body shook with rage. He felt a tremendous pressure build in his head, and actually thought he might burst a blood vessel and fall over dead into the water.

"Get me a gun!" he finally screamed at the two thugs on sh.o.r.e. One of the men rushed up to LeBeck and offered his Tommy gun. LeBeck s.n.a.t.c.hed it from the man and began shooting wildly over the waves, but by then the launch was across the harbor, nearly out on the open lake.

"They're out of range, boss!" said the thug, his words unheard by the raving smuggler.

LeBeck dropped the gun to the dock and, teeth gnas.h.i.+ng, reared his head back and screamed, his voice lost to the howling wind.

Chapter Thirty-Five.

The families hunched down as the little launch made its way across Stone Harbor. They glimpsed Jean LeBeck shooting at them from the dock, saw fire spout from the muzzle of his weapon and heard the crackling bursts of automatic gunfire, but by then it was too late; they were out of range and nearly out of sight of the smugglers.

With the boat's engine chugging along at a good clip, Sally steered them safely out to open water. As they rounded the point and lost sight of the dock, she heard something behind them, almost like an animal howl. A s.h.i.+ver ran down her spine when she realized that it must have been LeBeck, screaming with rage. Though she wasn't Catholic, Sally impulsively crossed herself; at least they were safe now from that monster.

But not safe from the Lady. Once outside the harbor's protection, angry waves slapped against the little boat, rocking it with a sickening motion. Sally trembled as her hands tightly gripped the tiller. She knew full well the danger they were in, but she was more than happy to take her chances against Superior, rather than let the gangsters kill them, or worse. Now the challenge would be to sail to the next safe harbor and put in without being dashed up on the rocks, no easy task with the chop they were fighting. At least she could see well enough despite the murky night. High up on Wolf Point the lighthouse beacon burned bright, flas.h.i.+ng down on the water every ten seconds, casting enough light to help her navigate well away from the jagged sh.o.r.e. Sally smiled at her father, who hunched down at the bottom of the boat, holding Sally's grandma as the boat swayed back and forth. Edward Young grinned back, too sick to a.s.sist his daughter, but confident in her ability to see them through the tempest.

At the bow, Ian and his family huddled close together. Collene wrapped both arms around her son, trying to warm him and protect him from the blowing wind. Ian sat s.h.i.+vering, but with a grin plastered on his face. Clarence, his own face blood-streaked and bruised, nestled closer and wrapped an arm around his boy.

"You're a brave young man, Ian," Clarence said. "You done the clan proud."

"We had to do something," Ian said through chattering teeth. "Couldn't just sit around."

"We thought you'd drowned for sure. Where did you end up?"

"It's a long story. I'll tell you soon. Not tonight, though, not yet." Ian reached into his rain jacket and pulled out his mother's locket, the one he'd s.n.a.t.c.hed away from Jean LeBeck. He handed it to Collene. "This is yours."

Collene stared down at the locket resting in her open palm. She pursed her lips, then raised her arm to toss the locket overboard. Suddenly, she stopped, a puzzled look drawn on her face.

"What is it, darlin?" asked Clarence.

Collene brought the locket to her ear and shook it. She was sure she'd heard a rattle. "There's something inside." Curious, she opened the locket, yet saw nothing but a faded picture of herself staring back. She shook it again. Still the rattle. After thinking a moment, Collene began picking at the back panel with her fingernails. Two broken nails later, she managed to pry open a small compartment. Everyone in the boat gasped as the plate swung free, revealing a handful of bright chips of gla.s.s. At that moment, the lighthouse beam swung over them, setting the gla.s.s afire.

"Diamonds!" cried Ian.

"Ach!" shouted Clarence. "He kept his stash in your locket!"

The boatload of escapees stared wide-eyed at the gems. Even the storm subsided a moment, as if joining in silent contemplation. Finally, without uttering a word, Collene snapped the locket shut. She leaned over, placing the chain around Ian's neck, then tucked the locket inside his s.h.i.+rt. "Keep it close to your heart, son. Don't forget us when you go out into the world."

"We're set for life!" Clarence exclaimed, standing up and nearly capsizing them. He clapped Edward Young on the shoulder. "We're rich, all of us! When this is over..."

"Clarence MacDougal, sit yourself down," Collene scolded. "I want my lightkeeper just the way he is. Don't you go changing on me for the love of money." Collene sat silent a moment, then a wide grin broke out on her face, too. She threw her arms around both her men, hugging them close to her.

Over his mother's shoulder, Ian beamed at Sally. But the smile quickly disappeared when he saw how worried his friend looked, sitting there fighting the rudder to keep the little boat on a steady coa.r.s.e. "How's it going, Sal?" he said, shouting over the noise of the wind and water.

"Not great," she echoed back. Just then, a gust of wind struck at them, turning the boat sideways into the trough of the waves. Sally strained her muscles, tugging at the rudder to get them perpendicular to the whitecaps again. She finally succeeded, but not before several waves crashed over the side, soaking everyone to the skin.

Just when she was about to breath a sigh of relief, Sally saw ghostly figures emerging from the darkness. "Look!" she cried, pointing with a trembling finger.

Ian turned and squinted toward a point of land around which they were about to turn. A flotilla of boats suddenly appeared, steaming straight for their launch. Ian counted a dozen of the mysterious craft. They varied in size, but each boat was big enough to carry several men. Most were fis.h.i.+ng boats, but several were expensive yachts. Some of the s.h.i.+ps were in bad shape; he could see men bailing water from at least three vessels. "Who are they?" Ian wondered aloud.

The families stared silently at the flotilla for a few moments, mesmerized by the dark shapes sliding closer and closer. Suddenly, Clarence turned and half rose out of his seat, shouting at Sally. "Away, la.s.s! Steer us away!"