“Into the boat,” he said, waving the gun towards the inflatable.
I shrugged. Whatever Doyle had in mind for me, it would give me a better chance than getting cut in half with a burst from an assault rifle. I got in the boat.
The trip back to the Battle was quick. The man with the assault rifle kept it pointed at me. He didn’t even blink. I sat between him and the guy at the motor and looked for openings. There weren’t any. I couldn’t even think of any really cutting remarks.
Doyle stood on the deck watching us. He wore that same patient, understanding smile. As we got closer I thought there might be a little bit of strain to the smile, but that could have been wishful thinking.
“Billy,” he said as our inflatable bumped up against the side of the sailboat. There was real happiness in the voice. That didn’t make me feel great. “Come aboard.”
“Thanks,” I said, as if I had a choice. Doyle put one foot on the boarding ladder, reached a hand down and grabbed me by the belt and lifted me aboard, making it look very easy.
When I was on board Doyle leaned over and spoke to the leader of the two in the inflatable. “Where are Otto and Frank?” I guessed he meant Bill and Bob.
The leader shook his head. “They were wired to the seat. I left Carl with them. He’ll bring the skiff over.”
Doyle nodded. “Well done.” He said it to me, too, as if he was pleased that I’d overcome two of his men. And he spread an arm towards the companionway and said, “Come below, Billy.”
I stepped down the stairs and into the cabin. It was tall enough to stand in, with room to spare. Doyle had spent a lot of money on the best gear. The navigation station was state of the art, with every imaginable boat-show toy, and a few I didn’t even recognize. The cabin was made of half a teak forest, lightly upholstered.
“Well, Billy,” Doyle said, coming down the steps to join me. “You put quite a kink in our organization.”
I sat on one of the benches. “That’s good to know.”
He nodded. “Quite a kink. So I hope you’ll appreciate what I have to do.”
“You mean kill me? No, I don’t think I can really appreciate that.”
He sat oppos
ite me and lowered his voice. His eyes locked onto mine, and again I couldn’t look away. I was holding my breath to hear what he said. I felt like I was about to be let in on big things. It was like talking to the coach, the principal, and the minister all rolled into one.
“That’s just a detail,” he said.
“Not to me.”
“I’m only doing what I have to do as a leader of the movement. It’s expected of me to set an example, take revenge. So I have to.”
“Was Hector McAuley revenge, too?”
He smiled politely. “No, that was showing off. When there’s an obstacle to our goals, I sometimes remove it myself. I like to set an example for my men.” He leaned forward confidentially. “And I have to tell you, Billy. It was fun. We come alive in danger, have you noticed? At least I always have. It’s a way to measure myself, to try to find my limits.
“I got tremendous personal satisfaction from hunting him like that. The area on fire around me, all of them would have killed me in a heartbeat if they’d seen me. His death was necessary,” and he sat back again, looking very content, “but by God, I enjoyed it.”
“And when Roscoe got on to you, you cut his head off.”
The cheerful grin broadened. “Using a straight razor like that—you knew it was a straight razor?”
“I knew.”
He chuckled. “And they say our movement has no sense of humor.”
“How did you get Roscoe to meet you in that alley?”
He shook his head, amazed and amused. “Incredible, isn’t it? A black cop with no street smarts at all. Moss called him and said he wanted to turn state’s evidence. But he was afraid for his life and needed to meet where I would never see them together.” Doyle chuckled. “He swallowed it. Can you believe that?”
“Hilarious. I hope it’s just as funny when you kill me.”
He shook his head. “No, Billy, killing you won’t be fun.”