Part 6 (1/2)

Lightning began crackling overhead, adding to the feeling of impending doom. Ben redoubled his efforts, forcing the oars to dig hard into the foaming water. His muscles, which despite his age were wrapped around his arms and shoulders like bands of steel, trembled now in protest.

The waters rose up, as if sensing prey. Ben miscalculated his timing and nearly swamped when a whitecap broke over the side. Just when it looked like the Lady would swallow Ben's boat for sure, the vessel rounded a hidden point and disappeared from view, leaving the great inland sea to thrash and boil in frustration.

Chapter Eleven.

Two shadowy figures crossed the windswept compound. Above them on the cliff, the lighthouse, its Cyclops eye s.h.i.+ning bright, stood vigil in the face of the approaching storm.

Ian and Sally, huddled under heavy raincoats, walked quickly toward the woods at the edge of the clearing.

”This is crazy,” said Sally, teeth chattering, her body s.h.i.+vering at the cold wind blowing through the loosely fitting mackintosh.

”Come on,” said Ian, leading the way. ”It'll be fun.”

”Right. Fun. Spying on bootleggers in the middle of the night, in a storm. Yeah, fun.” As if in response, a clap of thunder echoed against the cliffs.

At the edge of the dark woods, where the path leading down to the sh.o.r.e began, Ian lit a small kerosene lamp. The ever-increasing wind blew his matches out several times, but once the lamp was lit he moved on, down the trail. Sally hurried to catch up. ”This is crazy,” she muttered.

The pair disappeared into the thick woods, swallowed by the blackness.

The fis.h.i.+ng boat that had earlier shuttled LeBeck and his men from the black yacht now b.u.mped up against the dock once again. Two men jumped out and secured the boat with heavy lines, though it continued knocking against the pier from the force of the churning lake, even in the protected waters of the cove.

A gang of men poured from the boat and headed for the group of thugs camped out on the beach. When all was secure, another figure stepped onto the dock, then moved swiftly over the dark ground toward the stack of cargo on sh.o.r.e. A Tommy gun dangled down, held by a silver hook.

At the edge of the clearing that comprised the beach area, a bush rustled. Two hands reached out and parted the foliage, revealing Ian and Sally, peering out at the sh.o.r.eline. The barrels of liquor, which were stacked high just off the dock, partially obscured their view, but they could see some kind of gathering taking place.

”Better snuff the light,” said Ian.

Sally, who now held the lamp, quickly extinguished it. She'd insisted on carrying the light, if only to keep Ian from rus.h.i.+ng on too far ahead of her. ”What are they doing?” she whispered, leaning forward and squinting in a vain attempt to see through the murky night. All she could make out was the figure of Jean LeBeck gesturing wildly at his men. One of the thugs stood off a bit from the rest. He looked frightened, edging toward the sh.o.r.eline, his back toward the water.

”What's that in LeBeck's hand?” Sally asked.

Suddenly, LeBeck opened up with his Tommy gun, its staccato beat exploding over the sand. LeBeck's target, the man edging away from the group, screamed and did a macabre dance of death before finally sinking to the sand. LeBeck strode toward the corpse and aimed downward. Fire spewed from the muzzle of the gun as he shot off another burst at point-blank range.

”Oh, c.r.a.p!” said Ian.

Sally, wide eyed, her hands covering her mouth, got up to flee, but Ian grabbed her arm and pulled her back down.

On the beach, LeBeck looked up at the rest of his men, who stood there silently. ”So,” he said. ”Who's my next bodyguard?” The men looked nervously at each other. There were no volunteers.

”You there,” LeBeck barked, gesturing toward a large fellow standing close by. The unfortunate hood gestured as if to say, ”Who, me?” LeBeck tossed him the Tommy gun.

”Don't worry,” LeBeck said. ”Just make d.a.m.n sure that old geezer doesn't sneak up behind me again.”

”Yeah, boss,” the thug stuttered. ”Sure thing.”

LeBeck strode off, heading directly toward the barrels.

Ian and Sally tensed up as LeBeck came closer, then stopped a mere ten feet from their position behind the bush. Ian felt Sally's fingers digging into his shoulder. She panted, trying hard not to hyperventilate. Ian also felt terror gripping him. Surely the gangster had seen the two teenagers spying on them. What was LeBeck waiting for?

Ian tensed his muscles, ready to bolt. Sally grabbed his arm, forcing him to stay crouched. ”Wait,” she whispered in his ear.

Partially obscured from his gang by the barrels of bootlegged liquor, LeBeck dug in his pocket for a cigarette. He lit up, put the cigarette to his lips and took a deep drag, drawing the nicotine into his bloodstream. He closed his eyes a moment, then exhaled a stream of blue smoke, which blew away with the wind. A sort of calm seemed to wash over him. After a minute, he whistled sharply and gestured with his arm. The thug MacGlynn came running to LeBeck's side.

”Yeah,” MacGlynn said, practically panting and drooling in front of his master.

”Is the yacht all set?” asked LeBeck, disdainful of his a.s.sistant's eagerness to please.

”Cabin's redecorated just the way you wanted. Is she coming aboard now?”

LeBeck took another deep puff of his cigarette. He looked up toward the lighthouse. ”Maybe,” he said. ”The night's still young.”

Behind the bush, Ian s.h.i.+fted nervously. Sally put her lips near his ears again. ”Who's he talking about?”

”My mom,” Ian hissed. ”I'll kill him if he touches her.” He reached into his front pants pocket and extracted a little pocketknife. He nervously unsheathed the blade.

”With that?” Sally said, trying hard not to laugh.

Ian put a finger to his lips and pointed back at LeBeck. Sally saw the gangster stamping out his cigarette in the sand.

”Get a group of the boys together to secure the lighthouse grounds,” LeBeck ordered. ”Midnight's not far off.”

”Right,” MacGlynn said. He paused, then added, ”What about the lightkeeper?”

LeBeck took a gold locket from his coat pocket and opened it. Inside was a faded picture of Collene MacDougal. LeBeck stared at the photo a moment. The cold wind tugged at him, almost as if it was trying to tear the locket from his grasp. Finally, LeBeck snapped the locket shut and slipped it back in his pocket.

”He stays alive until I say,” LeBeck declared. ”I need to talk to her first.” A pout worked its way onto MacGlynn's mug. ”Don't worry,” LeBeck said soothingly. ”You'll have your fun. Let's go.” They strode away, back toward the group of thugs milling about on the beach.

Behind the bush, Ian gripped his little pocketknife, his jaw set, eyes blazing with hate. Sally touched him lightly on the arm.

”Come on, Ian,” she said. ”We can't beat them all now. We need to warn our folks.”

Ian hesitated a moment, then reluctantly folded the knife and put it back in his pocket. ”I hate him,” he announced, as if it weren't apparent enough already.

”I know,” Sally said, tugging at his arm. ”Come on.”

As they rose up from their hiding place, Sally swung around and accidentally b.u.mped the kerosene lamp into a tree, shattering the gla.s.s. The pair looked at each other in horror.

”Run!” cried Ian.

On the beach, LeBeck whirled around at the sound. ”What was that?” he asked sharply. He and MacGlynn raced back toward the liquor barrels just in time to see Ian and Sally disappear into the woods.