Fool Me Twice (Riley Wolfe 2)

Benny leaned forward. He had thought about this, a lot. He knew Mr. Boniface would ask him. “I’m pretty sure he’s got some plan. You know, for what you asked him to do?”

“Why would that necessitate a visit, all the way out here?”

Benny spread his hands. “It’s gotta be somethin’ extra, maybe a little nuts. Maybe he needs a big chunk of cash and figured it’s better to ask you to your face? But it’s somethin’ . . . different. I think.”

“Something related to what his plan is?”

“Yeah. Definitely. This guy knows the rules. But still . . .”

Boniface waited for a long moment before saying, “Yes? Still?”

Benny hesi

tated another moment, then shook his head. “Nothing, sir, just a feeling. But don’t trust this guy.”

Boniface looked at him for a moment, then nodded. “Thank you, Benny. Call Wolfe when you get back and tell him to come to Perth. Ask Bernadette to call the plane, and Étienne, and arrange pickup.”

“Yes, sir,” Benny said. He got up and gave a nod that was almost a bow of respect, and left.

When he was gone, Boniface sat motionless, a half frown of thought on his face, for a long time.

24

Étienne did not like this American. To be fair, Étienne did not really like anyone. But Americans in particular rubbed him the wrong way. They all moved through the world with a kind of ignorant arrogance, as if every flower would open for them if they smiled and waved a credit card.

This one was a perfect example. He seemed to have no memory at all of his previous trip in chains, when Étienne had beaten him. No, he came aboard as if he were on holiday, and he wore a stupid blue cap, the kind Americans always wore. It had the crest of some idiot sports team on it. Baseball, almost certainly, a game for cretins. And he was always getting in the way, asking questions, acting like he had a perfect right to do whatever pleased him, always with the same idiot smile. He behaved as if it was a pleasure ride on a hired boat, as if coming here, to Île des Choux, was something he could do whenever he wished.

And this was the man who boasted that he always found a way? He acted like he could not find the way out of a public pissoir. But no, he must put it about that he always found a way. Eh bien—Étienne would show him that this time, there was no way but Étienne’s. Île des Choux was not one of his stupid amusement parks—there was no mouse, no roller coaster. Île des Choux was so far beyond his naïve American experience that he would be dead in less time than it took to spit. He would never be able to survive here—he could not even get on the île alive, without Etienne’s help!

Always a way—feh! Did he think he could come here, and without Étienne? There was no way. And so as they approached the island, Étienne took some pleasure in pointing out all the horrible things that would happen to him if he ever tried to cross Étienne or his employer, Monsieur Boniface.

“Look,” Étienne said. “You think you find a way, ah? Per’aps in a teeny submarine? Look—” He pointed down below the surface of the water, where a series of dim shadows were just barely visible. “For submarines? Electronic mines. Anything come close—” He waved a hand. “Boom.” He smiled happily.

“Really?” the American said, nearly as happy. “Wow, so those are what—mines? Electronic mines? Is that what you said? Hey, they’re not gonna go off, are they? I mean, you know, blow us up?”

Étienne’s smile morphed into a sneer, an expression he had a great deal more practice with. “You are so stupid you think so?” he said. “You should be glad Étienne is not so stupid as you.” He tapped a black electronic box beside the steering wheel. “Thees give a signal so we are not explode. Only Étienne has thees box.”

“Wow,” the American said. “That’s really cool. And that’s for all the other stuff, too, right? I mean—missiles and booby traps and all that?”

Étienne snorted. “Again, this is stupid. The other stuff, as you say—it have the sensors, all within an electronic perimeter, yes? And to cross this line, it all shoots at you. Automatic, by computer. Again, BOOM.” He smiled. “And so you worry now that when we cross the line, per’aps we, too, shall boom? Hah?”

“Uh, well—yeah, I mean, it’s not gonna shoot at us, is it?” He pointed off the bow, where a large red buoy was bobbing closer. “That’s your perimeter right there, isn’t it?” He peered ahead, then turned to Étienne. “But hey, it didn’t blow us up last time. I remember, you did something with a keypad?”

“With thees,” Étienne said, tapping the keypad beside the black box. “I put the code. And so it will not shoot at us.”

The American leaned over and stared at the box, with its keypad and three red glowing lights across the top. “Huh,” he said. “What if—whoops!” His stupid cap slid off his head, and the American grabbed at it. “Damn wind,” he said.

“It is a stupid hat to wear on the ocean,” Étienne observed.

“Yeah, you got that right. Lemme just set this here for now.” He put the cap down on the dashboard-like shelf behind the wheel, with the sports team insignia pointed down, toward the keypad. “So, okay, you got this box to keep you from going BOOM—but what if somebody steals the box?”

Étienne shook his head. Really, the man was too stupid. “The box, it is nothing—unless you ’ave the code! And only Étienne ’ave the code.”

“Yeah, well, we’re getting kinda close?” the man said, glancing nervously toward the bow. “Maybe you better put in the code now?”

“Eh bien,” Étienne said, shrugging. He bent over the keypad, and the American bent with him, leaning down to see. Étienne placed a finger on the man’s chest and pushed him back. When he was satisfied that the man was too far away to see, Étienne bent and typed in the twelve-digit security code. There was a beep, and the three red lights turned green.

“That’s a lot of numbers,” the American said.