That was all the note had said. Terse and unforthcoming, just like the man who had written it. Charlie had been so pissed, he’d seriously considered not going. After all, he was the boss in this relationship. Not some flunky to jump just because a hired hand told him to.
But in the end, it was less the contents of the note than where he’d found it that had convinced him. Not just under the wiper of his car—bad enough the guy knew which car was his—but in the lot at the Diablo Canyon Nuclear Plant, behind barbed wire walls and electronic gates and armed guards. That could have meant it was an inside job. But Charlie ran the place. He knew every face of every employee who had ever walked through those gates, and the man at the end of the dock wasn’t one of his.
Which meant instead that either the guy had some connection inside that Charlie didn’t know about, or that he could somehow magically walk through walls. Charlie had the uneasy feeling he’d been played. Still, he’d had to show up to find out what the diver wanted, since the man clearly knew a lot more about Charlie than Charlie knew about him.
Finally tired of waiting, Charlie hunched his shoulders against the cool ocean breeze, got out of his car, and walked down to the dock. Two more canisters—all he could easily move by himself—already sat down there. It was too late for this nonsense. His wife thought he was out playing poker with some buddies, but he’d have to be home soon or she’d start suspecting him of sleeping around or something. The last thing he needed right now was anyone asking him suspicious questions, even his wife. Hell, especially his wife. The woman could be like a bulldog once she got her teeth into something.
“I hope you’re not planning to ask me for more money,” Charlie said, not bothering with polite hellos. People who stuck cryptic notes under windshield wipers didn’t get polite. “I’m already paying you more than I should be.”
One elegant eyebrow rose lazily. “Really?” the diver said, his Irish accent even heavier than usual. Probably because he’d figured out it annoyed the shit out of Charlie. “You t’ink that you are overpaying me to carry your poison down into the sea? Perhaps you would like to procure the services of another to do so for you.” The arrogant smirk lurking around the corners of his lips said he knew just how difficult that would be.
Bite me. Charlie didn’t say it out loud, though, as much as he wanted to. Finding another diver who was capable of going down to the depths of the hidden trench to dispose of the canisters where they wouldn’t be found—and who was willing to handle nuclear waste, no matter how safely it was packaged—would be a tall order indeed. Still, that didn’t mean he was going to let the guy rip him off. After all, if he turned Charlie in to the authorities, he’d be in trouble too.
“What do you want?” Charlie asked, feeling weary. Just another five years, and he could take his bonuses and retire to the Caribbean, where most of the money was already socked away. Then the plant, all those people’s jobs, and the damned government regulations could be somebody else’s problem. “Your note said something about our mutual best interests?”
The diver’s smile grew a smidgeon broader and somehow more sinister. It suddenly occurred to Charlie that maybe it hadn’t been all that smart to come to this lonely spot in the middle of the night all by himself.
“I am afraid that the word mutual may have been something of a falsehood,” the other man said, stepping gracefully onto the dock. “’Tis only my own interests that bring us together this night. You see, I have decided that I have no further need of your toxic refuse; what you have given me already has more than done its job.”
Charlie gaped at him. What the hell was the man talking about?
An effortless stride brought the diver close enough that Charlie could smell the fish on his breath, although Charlie barely saw him move.
“And if I have no need of your poison, I have no need of you,” the diver said, his voice as calm as if they discussed a favorite show or the best way to get from the highway to the nearest Denny’s. “Which, alas, makes you more of a liability than an asset. You Humans, so undependable. You understand; I simply cannot take the risk.”
Charlie felt a sudden sharp pain, like indigestion, only more intense, and looked down in amazement to see a long, thin knife protruding from his chest. No, not a knife, he thought muzzily as his knees buckled. It looked more like a tusk of some kind, or the barb from a swordfish.
He barely felt the diver scoop him up and toss him into the bottom of the boat, the deadly canisters following him in with a dull thud. The last thing he heard as the cold crept into his bones were the sweet notes of an old Irish lullaby about a sailor going to his final rest in the deep blue sea, sung by the man who’d just murdered him.