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.Red seized the Remington from Tool and feverishly took aim.“Hurry,” Tool said with a hint of a smile, which Red failed to notice.“You shut up!”Red’s shot—the last shell in the gun—flew so high off the mark that the buckshot sprinkled down in a loose crescent as harmless as pebbles, well behind the departing target.“Goddamn.” Red jumped off the ground in frustration.“Go get him! Go on!”Tool laconically declined.“My arm hurts, from where that fucker shot me.” Reminding Red of his recent sacrifice in the line of duty.“But, Christ Almighty, he’s gettin’ away!”“Then you go after him, chief,” Tool suggested.“Lemme bright the headlights so you can see’m better.”One of the lovesick gators grunted, this time closer.Red Hammernut did not advance even a millimeter toward the still, dark water.“Well, goddamn,” he said, studying the shotgun in his hands as if it had malfunctioned supernaturally.“I’m empty.”“Yup,” Tool said.In a taut and flurried silence the two of them watched Charles Regis Perrone, Ph.D., vanish gradually into the rich copper twilight of the swamp.Thirty-oneJoey Perrone burrowed into the folds of her brother’s sheepskin coat.“Can’t you stay a few more days?”“Romance and adventure beckon,” Corbett Wheeler said.“Besides, my ewes are lost without me.”“I hope you know what you’re doing.What if she does turn out to be a bimbo?”“There are worse tragedies, little sister.”Joey let out a cry of mock indignation and tugged Corbett’s hat over his eyes.Mick Stranahan carried the luggage to the helicopter, which had nearly given Strom a coronary when it touched down on the island.The pilot re-started the engines and Joey backed away from the din, fighting tears.Corbett blew a kiss and rakishly twirled his walking stick.Before stepping aboard, he stopped to shake Stranahan’s hand.Joey could see the two men talking intently, Mick nodding and appearing to ask questions.He trotted back and stood with her as the chopper lifted off, both of them waving broadly as it thumped away toward the mainland.“Ricca’s meeting him at the airport.She had a quick stop in Boca this morning,” Stranahan reported.“What else?” Joey asked.“That’s it.”“Come on, Mick.What were you guys talking about?”“Nothing, honest,” he insisted.“Your brother just wanted to thank me for taking care of you.He said he knew what a pain in the ass you can be.”She chased him all the way to the dock, where they stripped off each other’s clothes and dove in.They were making a third lap around the island when a park ranger’s boat surprised them.It was a big SeaCraft with twin Mercs, driven by a muscular Cuban officer in his early forties.As he idled up to the swimmers he broke into a grin.“Some things never change,” he said.“Hey, Luis.”“Hello, Mick.Hello, pretty lady.”Peeking modestly over Mick’s shoulder, Joey gave a minisalute.“Meet the legendary Luis Cordova,” Stranahan said, treading water.“We’ve known each other since the grand old days of Stiltsville, back when he was a rookie with the marine patrol.Now he’s a hotshot storm trooper for the Park Service, spying on innocent skinny-dippers.”Luis Cordova laughed as he tossed a rope.“I’m here on official business, you horny old deadbeat.”“Aw, please don’t tell me Señor Zedillo kicked the bucket,” Stranahan said.Miguel Zedillo was the Mexican novelist who owned the island.Joey remembered the name from a stack of books on a shelf in Mick’s bedroom.He had told her that the writer was in fragile health, and that the island would probably be sold after he died.That’s when Joey had piped up and said she’d like to buy it, which had so delighted Mick that he’d immediately made love to her under the picnic table.“Relax, man,” said Luis Cordova.“Far as I know, the old man is still alive and kicking in Tampico.I came out here to ask you about an abandoned boat.”Mick grabbed the rope and Joey clung monkey-style to his back.The ranger pulled them to the transom of the SeaCraft, so that they could rest on the dive platform
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