Infernal_ A Repairman Jack Novel Part 24

"Yeah, but I won't be around. And an executor can't change the terms of the will."

"You could hang around long enough to find a way."

"But it's not necessary. Once you claim the money you can divvy it up any way you please."

That was just the point-he couldn't claim the money.

Another idea: "Okay, have me declared dead."

"What?"

"Look, I disappeared more than seven years ago-twice that. Isn't that enough to have me declared dead?"

"But you're not."

"I am-at least as far as officialdom is concerned."

There-he'd said it. Hadn't wanted to, but there was no other way. He didn't want his inheritance moldering in some account when the other people in Dad's will could use it.

Tom grinned and slapped the tabletop. "Knew it! I knew knew it!" it!"

"Knew what?"

"You're running around under a false ident.i.ty. That's why you couldn't claim Dad's body. And-of course! You can't claim the inheritance for the same reason." He leaned forward. "What's the story? Who are you hiding from?"

"You know all you need to know, Tom. Back to the subject at hand: Can you have me declared dead?"

"But everybody at the wake and the funeral... they know you're alive."

"Yeah, but do they have to know I've been declared dead? n.o.body knows how much they were slated to inherit in the first place. If you don't tell and I don't complain, who's going to be the wiser?"

Tom leaned back. "I don't know. It might be possible. I'll hang around long enough to look into it."

"Do that. And no funny stuff."

Tom looked offended. "You think I'd gyp Kate's kids?"

"After what you've told me? What do you think?"

"I'd never-"

"Good. Because if I ever find out you've shorted those kids, I'll hunt you down and chop off your right hand."

Tom started to laugh but it died aborning as he looked in Jack's eyes.

"You-you're kidding, right?"

Their food arrived then. Jack sniffed his fish and chips-fresh from the fryer, all hot, crisp, and greasy.

"Let's eat."

6.

When the check arrived, Tom said, "You mind getting this? I mean, I could charge it, but I don't want to leave a trail to Bermuda and back."

Jack reached for his wallet. "Good thinking."

Jack didn't mind. John Tyleski didn't exist.

"How much cash did you bring?"

"I've got plastic."

"You do? How?"

Why was he acting so surprised? Tom knew he'd reserved that hotel room for him. Can't do that without a credit card.

"There are ways."

"You and I need to talk about rebirth real soon. But for now we have to find us a place to spend the night."

"Why not the boat?"

"Too far. Doesn't make sense to go all the way back to Somerset tonight, then come all the way back in the morning. Besides, lights and activity on the boat might draw attention. Better to stay here."

He was probably right.

"I saw a big pink hotel as we got off the ferry."

Tom made a face. "The Princess? Uh-uh. No can do."

"Why not?"

"That's where I honeymooned with the first s.k.a.n.k from h.e.l.l. No thanks." He shook his head. "I stayed at Elbow Beach my last few times here." Another head shake. "We'll find some other place. You'll have to cover the rooms."

"Figured that. And everything else, I guess."

"Not at all. We'll settle up tomorrow as soon as I withdraw my money."

"After which we head home, right? As in right away."

Tom gave a thumbs-up. "You got it. I want to get that money back and stashed in the States ASAP. And then you can show me how to disappear."

WEDNESDAY.

1.

Tom glanced at his watch as he paced the marble floor of the Bermuda Bank and Trust Limited, waiting for Hugh Dawkes. Nine thirty. He wanted to get back to the Sahbon Sahbon.

He wore a wrinkled s.h.i.+rt and slacks-the best clothes he'd brought along-and had his backpack slung over his shoulder. The backpack probably wasn't a good touch, but its contents were too precious to leave in the truck.

The BB&T occupied a pink stucco building on the uphill side of Reid Street in Hamilton. The idea of a pink bank had put Tom off at first, but then this was Bermuda where it was no strange thing to see businessmen-bankers included-dressed for work in a jacket, tie, short pants, and knee socks.

Dawkes appeared, a slim, silver-haired gent in dark blue jacket and matching Bermuda shorts and knee socks. Tom had made a point of dealing with the same man on every visit he'd made to BB&T. He'd also made a point of calling the Gosling Brothers' store on Front Street and having them send Dawkes a bottle of their 150-proof rum every Christmas. Never knew when you were going to need a favor.

As they shook hands and exchanged greetings, he sensed tension in Dawkes. Maybe he was having a bad day.

Tom didn't have much time so he got right to the point.

"I'll be relocating to the West Coast soon, so I'm afraid I'll have to close out my account."

Now Dawkes looked even more troubled. "I'm sorry to tell you this, sir, but at this time that will not be possible."

Tom's stomach did a flip. "Why not?"

"Your government has been in touch with the hank and... I..."

With his knees going soft under him, Tom reached for a chair.

"May I sit down?"

"Of course, sir."

"What do you mean 'my government'?"

"I'm not sure, sir. Some agency approached the bank. The president, Mr. Hickson, dealt with them. He has not seen fit to inform me of the details."

Dawkes pursed his lips and sniffed, obviously slighted.

Tom didn't give a s.h.i.+t about this twit's wounded feelings. The feds! The feds had been here!

"What's the bottom line here, Mr. Dawkes?"

Dawkes looked embarra.s.sed. "Your account has been frozen, sir."

Tom leaned back and closed his eyes. This was scary. No, it was beyond scary-this was f.u.c.king terrifying. How did they find out about it? How had they connected him to BB&T?

Chiram... the Sahbon's Sahbon's former owner, Chiram Abijah. Had to be him. Probably made a deal and gave up Tom. former owner, Chiram Abijah. Had to be him. Probably made a deal and gave up Tom.

But an even more terrifying question roiled his gut: What else did they know?

The savings account itself wasn't important. He'd deposited a thousand in it years ago simply to establish himself as a customer. He'd wanted to use a phony name, but the bank required a pa.s.sport as ID for foreign depositors, and the only pa.s.sport he'd had was the real thing.

Although he needed every penny he could get his hands on, he could let the thousand go. His real stash was in the back.

At least he hoped it was. Tom was almost afraid to ask. He put on a brave face, looked Dawkes in the eye, and...

"This is most puzzling and disconcerting, Mr. Dawkes. I'll straighten it out immediately when I get home. But at this time I'd like to visit my safety-deposit box."

Dawkes looked away and Tom's heart almost stopped.

Oh, no. Oh, s.h.i.+t, don't tell me- "I'm afraid that's frozen too, sir."

Jesus G.o.d. Half a million bucks! His f.u.c.k-you money. He had to get to it.

He dug in his pants pocket and found the box key.

"Just a quick visit? For old time's sake?"

Dawkes gave a sad shake of his head. "I'm afraid I couldn't do that, sir."

He held up the key. "Not even as a personal favor?"

He glanced at Tom, then looked away again. "I'm sorry, sir."

Tom wanted to throttle him. You ungrateful s.h.i.+t. After all that rum I sent you...

"But there is something I can do for you, sir..."

What? What What?

"... and that's to tell you to turn around and walk away from here and don't come back."

Dawkes's furtive look and lowered voice cut off the stream of choice epithets that leaped to Tom's lips.

"What are you telling me?"

"Simply that Mr. Hickson has instructed us to report your presence to him immediately should you show up. I am the only one here at BB and T who knows you by sight, and I will, shall we say, neglect to mention your visit. But I suggest we cut this meeting short before anyone becomes curious as to your ident.i.ty."