Thin Slice of Life

Chapter 18

As gale force winds went from shrill soprano to basso profundo and storm swells rose by the second, Senator Llewellyn Cudihay staggered into the Key Allegro Marina Cafe, considerably the worse for wind and weather. In spite of his misfortune, he seemed otherwise full of piss, vinegar and what Marisol judged to be an extravagant amount of cocaine and scotch for such an early hour. O.B. Hadnott sat alone in a corner of the bar, his chair tipped back and his boot heels cocked in valiant repose on a nearby table. He either didn’t notice the politico’s chemically fueled condition or didn’t choose to. Mostly, he tried not to let on that he was scared shitless. He deeply regretted his decision to drop in on the Marina to interview the convicted felon that HQ told him worked there. Magnificent fucking timing, you moron, he thought. Wherever Cudihay had gotten his nose powdered, he wouldn’t be going back for more any time soon. He owned close to a million dollars’ worth of real estate just two hundred yards away, but it might as well have been on the moon. The rain, as all could see through the door which opened briefly to admit the Senator, howled sideways in sheets, and the wind rocked the few cars in the parking lot like baby CHAPTER 18 113 |18 cradles. With difficulty, Miguel wrestled the door shut and battened it down. Whatever happened now, they were on their own. Cudihay spied Marisol in the lantern light and homed in on her like a Scud missile. “Well, Señor Negron, how ‘bout a Bloody Mary, por fa-vor,” said the Senator loudly, throwing a twenty on the bar, “I want to be sure and tip sufficiently. Knowin’ your history, and all. What is it, five guys you killed? You’re a regular Billy the Kid.” “Two,” said Miguel. “Huh?” asked Cudihay, blinking at the bartender’s terse reply. Outside, the wind notched itself up another dozen decibels. “I have killed two men,” said Miguel. “So far.” The implied threat sailed over the Senator’s head like a laughing gull. He staggered across the room as another surge of wind and water shook the building. He set the glass in front of Marisol. “Here ya are, little lady. Ah bet you never been served a drink by a real murderer before. But don’t you worry; the Governor made me an honorary Texas Ranger, jus’ like Sergeant Whatnot over there. Ah’ll defend your virtue. Up to a point, that is.” Marisol pushed the glass back toward the Senator. “Drink it yourself. Maybe it will keep your mouth busy with something besides talking.” “I can think of a few other things I could do with my mou….” Justthen,theentirebuildingseemedtotiltonitsaxisasamassive surge of wind or water—it hardly mattered which—slammed into the storm shutters. The building actually rocked on its pilings, and the shelf upon which the kerosene lantern was perched collapsed. It rolled down the bar, trailing a flaming spume of lantern fuel. Then the light went out. “Gawd!” bellowed the Senator from somewhere nearby, speaking for them all. O.B. Hadnott overbalanced himself and went Stetsonover -tea-kettle onto the grimy floor. Marisol yelped and the rest of the bar’s denizens lurched for something stable to hang on to. She thought disjointedly back to something Johnny once said: “Lord, I don’t want the ham or the cheese—I just want out of the sandwich….” Miguel Negron righted himself first and began slapping wet bar towels on the patches of flame. The wind got louder, entirely drowning out the idiot static on the shortwave and the ship-to-shore. Not that it mattered. Anybody still 114 18| at sea at this point was beyond the power of speech or prayer. — Charlie squatted atop the cabin roof, squinting at the bay through the pelting rain. He noted that unbelievably, the wind was increasing. Unless the hurricane had dramatically changed direction again, it would make landfall somewhere nearby. It was like it had followed them in from the Gulf. Like it was hunting them. Is it possible to piss off a storm? he wondered. Bao’s crewboat was out there hunting him too, and Charlie felt like a jackrabbit hiding from a predator close on its scent. He resisted the urge to bolt for half an hour until a...