Текст книги "Circle of Bones"

Автор книги: Christine Kling

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Текущая страница: 29 (всего у книги 32 страниц)

CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

Aboard the Shadow Chaser

March 31, 2008

5:10 a.m.

“We’ve been at this three hours now, Cap,” Theo said, his arms leaning on the bulwark at the stern of Shadow Chaser. The big trawler was operating on autopilot while the two men paced the deck. “We’ve covered more than a square mile with the magnetometer, and we haven’t even had any false readings. Maybe your man’s information wasn’t so good after all.”

“This is the spot all right. I can feel it. It’s not like the guy had a hand-bearing compass when the sub sank under him. He was treading water and sighting positions off landmarks miles away on shore.”

Theo looked up at the sky. Most of the stars had disappeared – only one bright planet remained visible. “Gonna be light, soon,” he said.

“Yup,” Cole said. A thin band of gray had appeared on the eastern horizon. “I wish we’d hear something from Riley, though. I’m worried that the reason she’s not calling is because she can’t.”

“That’s my captain – seeing trouble whether it’s there or not.”

“This guy, this Diggory. Theo, he scares the shit out of me – you weren’t there in DC.  This is real, Theo. Too real.”

“Yeah, mon, I know. I saw the look on the man’s face when he took Riley at the Indian River. Man must have a heart of ice to lie to her like that.”

“I never should have left her alone out there.”

 “Her choice, not yours, mon. Besides, you know how unreliable single sideband radio is when you’re this close. She could be calling but we can’t pick her up. With cloud cover like this, who knows what kind of skip we’re getting. Riley knows how to take care of herself. And we’ve got a submarine to locate.”

Cole walked to the stern of the vessel and tested the tension on the tow cable that connected the sensor to the boat’s network of electronics. “Feels like the darn thing is fouled again,” he said. Cole began to haul in the cable hand over hand.

They had great equipment, thanks to Theo. He had designed the proton sensor casing with sleek dolphin-like hydrodynamic fins, but the blasted thing still got fouled by this Sargasso weed. Cole had nicknamed the silver fish-shaped object “Flipper.”

Floodlights lit the water behind the boat, and Flipper broke the surface skipping between two waves, its nose trailing a beard of yellow-green seaweed. Cole pulled it to the boat and shook off the debris. Then, he tossed the long silver magnetometer back into the water. “Okay, Flipper.” He waved both hands back over his shoulders then pointed out to sea mimicking the motions of a dolphin trainer. “Go get me a submarine, boy!”

Theo fed out cable until the coil at his feet was gone. Then he walked over and picked up his tablet off the hatch cover that led down to the engine room. He tapped the screen a couple of times and the RPMs increased on Shadow Chaser’s engine.

“We’re back in business,” he said.

“The alarm’s set?”

“You bet. We float over an old tuna fish can and this baby will chirp a little. But, if we pass over a hunk of iron the size of a submarine, this little magnet’s going to sing for papa.”

Cole knew he should feel tired, but he was running on pure adrenaline. For more than half the night, they’d pounded their way through the heavy seas and thunderstorms off the east coast of Dominica, and he hadn’t slept. But at least he had been able to rest when Theo was on watch. Once they had arrived here at the coordinates that Henri had given them, they had set up their search grid, launched the towed proton magnetometer, and started the long slow tedious business of searching the sea floor. The swells rocked and rolled Shadow Chaser even with the stabilizers. He thought of Riley out in those same seas in her much smaller boat, and once again he had to push down the fear that crawled up the back of his neck. He wished they’d hear from her.

The best way to get his mind off his worries was to stay busy. Cole opened the deck box on the starboard side and lifted out a pair of scuba tanks, a buoyancy compensator, regulator, and mask and fins. He began prepping and testing his gear; he screwed the regulator onto the tanks, checked his gauges, and strapped the dual tanks to the BC.

Theo crossed to another of the many large spools of thick black cable on the aft deck. He uncoiled enough to reach the center of the deck. Right after they arrived on site and started their search grid, he and Theo had used the big boat’s crane to hoist the Enigma out of the hold. The ROV rested in a cradle on its own pallet that they had strapped to the floor of the hold.  Theo attached the cable ends to the little submersible and picked up his tablet again. He began a systems check.

When both men were satisfied that their gear was ready, they leaned against the deck box, arms crossed, and watched the roiling water in their wake.

Cole checked his watch. It read 6:40. The sun should be up, would be up if it weren’t for the huge thunderstorm rolling in from the east. The wind had gone light and shifted to westerly. The noise of the seas and wind subsided for a moment and he heard her.

“Shadow Chaser, Shadow Chaser, this is the Bonefish.”

“Thank God,” Cole said and he started across the deck to the wheelhouse. He’d only traveled two steps when the alarm squealed.

Theo whooped and Cole heard the engines idle down, then rumble in reverse as Theo tried to slow their forward motion.

“You bring in Flipper,” Cole shouted. “I’ll drop the marker.”

Cole ran to the starboard aft corner and lifted the coil of light line with a small anchor attached to one end and a white buoy on the other. “What’s our depth?” he yelled over the high pitched squeal from the magnetometer’s alarm.

Theo was at the rail on the opposite side of the vessel, pulling in the cable for the Flipper, careful to keep it clear of the vessel’s propeller. “Fifty meters,” he said, his voice breathless from the effort of hauling in the cable as fast as he could.

Cole stood up on the deck box and swung the grappling anchor back and heaved it out away from the big boat.

Theo got the big silver cylinder over the bulwark, dried his hands on his pants, and lifted his laptop. Cole heard the engine shift into neutral as he fed the line out and the anchor sank toward the bottom. The line was one hundred meters long, but a tangle in it could put their marker under water. When he’d fed out all the line, he tossed the buoy into the water.

“Hey Cap,” Theo shouted. “Go answer Riley and tell her the news. That was no soda can!”

“Right!” Cole said. He ran to the wheelhouse and grabbed the mike for the SSB radio. Before he pushed the button on the side of the mike, he glanced up at the color sonar screen. He saw a deeply angled ledge and along the bottom of the screen he watched the number indicating their depth change with every flash – 62 meters, then 66 meters, 71 meters, 79 meters, 82 meters, and then the readings went blank as it moved past the 100 meter depth. Damn thing must be sitting on the edge of a cliff, Cole thought.

“Bonefish, Bonefish, this is Shadow Chaser.” He bounced his right deck shoe on the wood floor boards. Come on, Riley. Wait until you hear this. Okay, okay, where was she? She was just calling them a few minutes ago. But oh, how things had changed in those few minutes. He couldn’t wait to give her the news. “Bonefish, Bonefish, this is Shadow Chaser,” he called again. I know you’re there, Riley. Answer me. He called a third time, but the only answer he got was silence.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO

Aboard the Bonefish

March 31, 2008

5:55 a.m.

Riley could see Spyder didn’t really want to shoot. He wanted her to stop making noise. He had to know that the gun would wake up people in the village, including any Gendarmes, and he sure as hell wouldn’t want that. She felt confident she could handle the Brewster brothers alone – even if it was two against one.

“I said drop the knife, bitch!” Spyder yelled.

Riley hadn’t heard Cole’s voice on the radio for several long seconds. She hoped he had abandoned his attempt to reach her.

“Okay, okay” she said. She rested one hand for balance on the dodger next to her and crouched. She set the knife down on the fiberglass deck, and then stood up again.

“Now, turn around and git your ass into that cockpit. But remember, I’m right here with this gun pointed at your back. Don’t try nothing stupid.”

Riley turned, her mind whirring. She would wait until they were below. It would muffle the noise, and she would have more options in that confined space she knew so well. She heard the two men talking in hushed voices behind her as she climbed down and sat on one of the seats.

“Come on. I know you like to watch, Pinky.”

She saw the black boot scrape across the teak-topped coaming as Spyder climbed into the cockpit. Then he sat and swung the gun toward her.

“We ain’t got time for this, Spyder,” the chubby one said from outside the cockpit. He rocked from one foot to the other as he struggled with how to climb over the coaming and duck under the dodger and bimini.

 While he was dawdling, Riley took a closer look at the gun. It looked like a Ruger Mark II target pistol. Twenty-two caliber. One of her buddies used to bring one to the range at Quantico. She knew it well.

“Fuck we ain’t.” Spyder slid down the seat opposite her to make room for his brother, and he smiled his brown, gap-tooth smile at her. “Git down here, bro. We gonna make this bitch tell us where the doc is. That’s all.”

The chubby guy swung a leg into the cockpit, then hit his head on the stainless tubing as he tried to duck under the canvas. “Ow! Shit.” His other foot tripped on the winch, and he collapsed on the cockpit seat.

Now she understood why Spyder had moved so far out of the way.

The strange man acted as though nothing had happened. He sat up and ran his fingers through his white Afro. “I know you Spyder. That ain’t all you got in mind. Don’t screw this up.”

Spyder laughed. “I’m gonna be screwing all right, bro.” He looked at her with eyes that shone and pulled down the zipper on the front of his jumpsuit revealing a café-au-lait-colored concave chest with a small scraggly patch of hair between his nipples. “We gonna have us a good time, eh bitch?”

She let her eyes wander ever so slowly down the length of his body, then back up to his face. She held his gaze.

He nodded, his eyes growing brighter. “You like what you see, don’t you? Pinky, get down there inside her boat. Keep an eye on her. I don’t trust her. You let me know if she tries to grab anything down there. She’s tricky.”

The man called Pinky climbed down the steps into the main cabin and walked forward to the mast before he turned around.

“Now it’s your turn,” Spyder said. He waved the gun toward the companionway. “I don’t want to shoot you before we had a chance to party, so you don’t try nothing, hear? I’m right here with this gun.”

Even though it sickened her, Riley was prepared to use whatever tools were at her disposal to get rid of these two. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just take off this rain jacket,” she said. “It’s getting so hot.” She mirrored his action when she pulled down the zipper on her foul weather gear, then she pulled off the sleeves behind her back, thrusting her breasts toward him. She was braless under the damp teeshirt and Spyder wasn’t missing a minute of the show she was putting on for his benefit.

“Hurry up,” he said, his voice growing hoarse. “Git down in the cabin.”

 She gave him time to watch her as she rose and stepped up into the companionway. Her khaki shorts weren’t all that short, but there was still plenty of leg showing. The more she could arouse him, the less his brain would function. Because men always had a size advantage over her, she had learned to lull them into thinking her small stature meant she presented no threat.

She bent over and peered down into the cabin, then looked back at Spyder over her shoulder. “You’re not going to hurt me are you?” she asked in a small voice.

He sat up straighter and moved his torso toward her as he spoke. “I said git down there.”

She hopped down to the top step, then held the edge of the hatch and swung down into the cabin.

Pinky jumped back like he was afraid she was going to kick him in the nuts, and he almost tripped over the threshold of the doorway to her forward stateroom.

She turned to face Spyder as he came down the steps. He had stripped out of the jumpsuit, and he was wearing threadbare jeans cut off at the knees.

“I’ve been alone on this boat for a long time,” she said, her eyes wandering over his skinny bare chest. “I almost forgot what it was like to have men aboard.” She glanced over her shoulder at Pinky. He was standing directly behind her, watching.

“Don’t pay him no mind,” Spyder said. “Pretend he ain’t there. It’s just you and me.”

“And your gun,” she said.

“What’s that line? You know, from that old movie?”

She leaned back and looked down at the bulge in his jeans. “I can tell that’s not a gun in your pocket.” He smiled and she took a step toward him.

“Hey, watch that,” Spyder said, lifting the gun and extending his arm. “Stay back.”

She drew in her breath and froze. “It’s okay,” she said raising her hands in the air. “I’ll do whatever you tell me to do,” she said, but she had closed the gap between them by one step.

“Okay, then, take off them shorts.”

She breathed in, held her breath for a few seconds and ran the tip of her tongue around her lips. Then looking down she popped the button and eased the zipper down revealing her suntanned belly and the dark purple nylon of her bikini panties. She eased the khaki shorts past her thighs and all the way down to her calves. She stepped out of them by stepping forward and then tossed the shorts through the doorway into the aft stateroom. The gap between her and Spyder had closed by a few more inches.

“I’ve never undressed with someone pointing a gun at me before,” she said, trying to smile at him. “It’s kind of exciting.”

He waved the gun at her chest. “Now take off your shirt.”

She looked down at his crotch. “I think I should take your shorts off first.” She took another step toward him and now the barrel of the gun was no more then ten inches from her breastbone.

“Bitch, you gonna git naked and do everything I tell you to do – but don’t do nothin’ stupid,” he said.

She kept her eyes on his and thought that this whole idea might turn out to be one of the stupidest things she’d ever done, but she knew she had to get close enough to get control of the gun. “You’re the one with his finger on the trigger. Seems to me I should be the one worrying.” She took another step forward and brushed the fingers of her right hand across the front of his jeans.

He moaned and his eyes rolled out of focus.

She raised her left hand and let it rest on his right shoulder at the same time her fingers danced up and unbuttoned the top button of his jeans. As she lowered the zipper with her right hand, her left hand slid down his right arm. Riley could tell from his breathing which hand he was focusing on. When her right hand reached his wrist, she made her move.

It was only a matter of seconds, but to Riley, it seemed that the world had slowed and the three of them moved like dancers through that small space in her cabin. Riley thrust her left hand down over his gun hand at the exact same instant she pivoted her right shoulder backwards, around and away from the front of the barrel so that in an instant she was standing next to him, no longer between the two men.

Spyder’s surprise at her movement caused his reflexes to pull the trigger, but because his reactions were slowed by her distractions, she was out of the way when the gun went off. It sounded as though the pop of the gunshot and Pinky’s high-pitched scream occurred at exactly the same moment. The pudgy man, who had been standing behind her, crumpled to the floor, both hands gripping his left knee, a red stain growing on his white pants. She heard Spyder cry out his brother’s name, but without stopping the fluid movement she had started, Riley guided the forward momentum of Spyder’s gun hand down, then she bent his wrist around in an upward curve until the barrel pointed at the man’s own chin. He was still screaming and struggling to get the gun away from his head when it went off. Riley let go of his hand and jumped back in surprise.

There was a second of silence after the shot, then Pinky screamed “Spyder!” when his brother toppled sideways against the door to the aft head. The man’s eyes were open, but unseeing. His mouth continued to open and close like that of a gaffed fish gasping for air on deck. Blood seeped from the ragged hole in the soft tissue under his chin and trickled from the corner of his mouth, but she saw no evidence of an exit wound. In straining to get his hand free, Spyder had pulled the trigger himself.

She stood in the galley, backed up against the stove, and she felt her body trembling. Spyder’s sprawled legs twitched and blocked the bottom of the stairs. Though it would be easy enough to step over the legs, it meant she would have to approach him, and she was certain that if she had to get closer to that gasping thing on the floor right now, she would be sick.

She wished the other one would stop his wailing. She craned her neck to see past the galley counter. Pinky had crabbed his way across the cabin sole by pulling his useless leg with one hand, while he pushed his hefty body forward with his good leg. She looked at Spyder. His mouth had stopped moving. Pinky got a hand on his brother’s shoe and pulled. Both men slid across the floor toward each other.

The gun. Where was it? It had to be under Spyder. That was what Pinky was after: the gun.

Pinky rolled Spyder’s body over and she saw the gun at the same time he did. Riley placed her right foot on the bottom step and pushed her body straight up into the air. She came down putting all her weight on her heel that landed on the back of Pinky’s left hand. She felt the bones of his hand crack. Pinky screamed even louder, a high-pitched inhuman sound now. He grabbed her leg with his right hand and pulled her down on top of him. She fell away from the gun, but when she turned around and got to her feet, the screaming had fallen to a moaning whimper and Pinky was lying on the cabin sole propped up on one elbow, his right hand pointing the Ruger at her.

Beads of sweat covered his face, and where there had been splotches of pink color, now his skin was a uniform pale gray. “You’re gonna get me to a doctor,” he said. He spoke in a hiss through gritted teeth. With his good leg, he pushed himself up until his rump rested on the lowest step. She saw the pain on his face, and she didn’t know how he was doing it. His left hand hung limp and useless. One at a time, he pulled himself up the three steps and dragged himself out into the cockpit.

“Get a dish towel and throw it to me.” Pinky was breathing hard and the pain was making it difficult for him to speak.

She followed his orders, grabbing the towel that was hanging on her oven door, and tossed it up to him.  He tried to rip the towel by holding one end with his gun hand and the other in his teeth, but he was too weak. He tried folding the towel on the diagonal with his broken hand, but the fingers flapped loose and lifeless. She saw how his good hand shook. He was losing a lot of blood from the wound in his knee.

“You – come up here.” She could barely make out his slurred words.  “Get your dinghy. Take me t’a doctor.”

At that moment, the radio burst to life again.  “Bonefish, Bonefish, this is Shadow Chaser, do you read me Riley?”

The gun in his hand jerked up and his eyes widened. “Get away from there,” he said.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m not going to answer it.” She had to shout so he could hear her over the sound of Cole’s voice. “I’m going to come out into the cockpit now and help you.”

She could see how weak he was, but something inside her told her that this one was even more dangerous than Spyder. He wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. She had to make sure it wasn’t pointed at her.

Pinky was sitting on the starboard seat, and she came up under his gun hand, her elbows locked pushing it straight up. He fired one shot that pierced her canvas dodger. He wouldn’t let go. She was using both of her good hands against his one arm, and yet she was struggling to hold her own. Her scarred shoulder burned as her muscles strained. He was trying to push the gun down, towards her head, and she knew she couldn’t hold out against him much longer.

She moved before she was aware of any decision. In her training, she’d always been taught to use her opponent’s momentum against him. She twisted her body and slid right, out from under the gun. With no force counteracting him, Pinky’s hand and the gun came slamming down on the teak combing. His fingers loosened and the pistol bounced onto the deck outside the cockpit. Riley scrambled out after it. She had one leg on the deck when she saw the gun hit one of the stainless stanchions and tumble off the side of the boat into the pale blue water.

And then she screamed when she felt teeth clamp down on her calf. Her right leg hadn’t cleared the cockpit coaming, and the idiot had bit her! She tried to kick her leg free, but she was off balance, and she came down hard on her hip, the nylon panties not providing any cushion. Warm blood flowed across her skin and as she struggled, she slipped in the wet red liquid on the deck.

Then she saw it. The knife Spyder had made her drop on the deck earlier. The razor-sharp saw-toothed blade glinted in the morning sunlight. Just beyond her fingertips. Riley grabbed the frame of one of the cabin windows and pulled herself forward just enough to touch it with her fingernail. The first time, she only managed to push it farther away. Damn her leg hurt. His teeth were ripping her flesh the more she pulled away. She tried again and with her second effort, she slid the knife closer and wrapped her fingers around the hefty handle.

She glanced over her shoulder, located Pinky’s head and with her other foot, she planted a kick with her heel right down on his nose. She grunted through clenched teeth as she felt her own flesh tear. But his jaw loosened and she pulled her leg free.

Scrambling to get her legs under her, she saw him plant his good hand on the teak coaming to steady himself. His broad nose streamed blood and as he breathed hard through his mouth, blood spume splattered the deck. Riley raised the knife over her head and brought it down with all her strength right into the back of that good hand. The blade plunged through the skin and bone and dug deep into the teak. Pinky screamed one last time and collapsed, the pain at last becoming too much for his mind to bear.

Riley got up and looked down at the unconscious figure. Then she extended her leg to examine the wound on her calf. A flap of skin hung loose, and her leg and foot were covered in blood.

“In spite of the blood, you look very fetching in that T-shirt and those panties, my dear.”

Riley whirled around. A white sportfishing boat was tied to the far side of the sleek black powerboat. Diggory was standing on the foredeck, one arm in a white sling, the other hand holding a gun.