“Okay,” Liam said softly.
It was amazing how a single word could carry so much weight.
“How old was Hannah when you, when they...” His words trailed off.
“When she was adopted?” Kelly asked. “A couple of hours. Her parents were there in the delivery room. They let me hold her. They were really good people. I owe them everything. They died a few years ago. Hannah found me then.”
And Kelly had known, somehow, that it was right to entrust them with Hannah, let them raise her and be her parents. She’d known then and never doubted it was right. Even though giving them her baby girl had felt like tearing off a piece of her own heart.
“You never had kids?” she asked.
“I’ve got no family.” He shook his head and chuckled softly, as if the sound was coming from somewhere very deep inside him. “I’ve never even kissed anyone who wasn’t you.”
A door slammed open behind her. She glanced back to see the man with the yellow eye patch stride through, her diaper bag under his arm.
“You!” He pointed at her with the butt of his gun. “Lady with the baby. Stand up. You’re coming with me.”
FIVE
But as Kelly got to her feet, she felt Liam’s hand grab hold of hers.
“I’m going with her!” Liam’s voice rose and seemed to boom around the room. “They’re not going anywhere without me.”
As if on cue, the masked men focused their weapons on Liam, filling the air with shouts, swearing and threats. Pip’s cries grew into a full-throated wail. She needed to get the baby out of there. Unless the Imposters had thoroughly searched the diaper bag and found each hidden compartment, there might still be an encrypted burner phone and mini–stun gun inside it, along with other helpful tools. She couldn’t miss her opportunity to get her hands on them.
“Please, lady,” the man in the yellow eye patch said. “You’ve got to come with me. Now.”
There was a slight waver in his voice, almost like he was pleading with her. Did Liam hear it, too? Or was he too focused on the cacophony around them? She didn’t know. But another of his tactics filled her mind. Nobody’s fully evil. Every enemy has the potential to do the right thing. Was the man in the yellow eye patch trying to do the right thing now?
“It’s okay,” she said, glancing at Liam. “I’ve got to get Pip out of here and to somewhere quieter. We’ll be okay. And if not, you’ll find us.”
His jaw set, and something hardened like flint behind his eyes. “You’re sure right I will.”
She swallowed hard and the man with the yellow eye patch practically pushed the diaper bag into her hand. She prayed that everything she needed was still inside. The Imposter led her out of the room and down a hallway, until they reached a door in the wall. He opened it and she looked inside. It seemed to be a cross between a security office and a supply room. A clunky monitor in the corner flickered black-and-white security camera footage of the chaos she’d left behind in the ballroom, but the rest of the space was crammed tightly with spare linens, decorations and chairs for the events. But, thankfully, it had a table she could change Pip on.
“I’m not a bad person,” the anonymous man with the yellow eye patch said. “Just so you know. I just believe the wrong people are running the world, the system is rigged against the little guy and someone needs to teach them a lesson.”
So had how many other people across the world throughout history? The mother’s heart inside her found itself praying for him. And that he’d live long enough to both repent and grow.
She took the diaper bag from his hand and walked into the room, planning out her next steps as she did so. She would set down Pip, pretend to search the bag for a diaper and then get the mini–stun gun. She’d get close enough to zap him, then tie him up with some of the brightly colored decorative cord on the shelf. And then, what? Help me, Lord.
“I’ll just be one moment,” she said. She took the diaper bag from him and put it on the table, wishing she didn’t have to turn her back on him even if it was only for a moment.
“Stay here,” he said. “You’ll be safe if you stay in here.”
The door slammed shut. Something clicked.
“Wait!” She turned quickly. “Stop!”
She set down Pip, crossed the floor and grabbed the handle. It turned but the door didn’t budge. Instead, as she pulled she just heard the thump of metal against the frame. Her heart leaped into her throat. For a second it pounded so hard she could barely breathe. They were locked in.
Pip’s cries rose again. Kelly ran back to her, unclipped her from the car seat and held her to her chest. “Shh. It’s okay. Don’t worry. It’s all going to be okay.”
She rocked back and forth, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her gaze ran to the security camera, trying to seek out Liam’s form on the small screen. But whether it was the angle, the crowd or something else that had happened to him, she couldn’t see him anywhere.
Lord, keep him safe. Keep Hannah safe. Keep Pip and I safe. We all need You now.
Liam was right. It was different when there was somebody else to care for. When she and Liam had been on the run when they were younger, it had just been a matter of fight, run, hide and survive. But how could she do that with a baby? Somehow the true weight of being a mother hadn’t really hit her until the moment Hannah had told her she’d be taking the Ugly Sweater Holiday Cruise as a cover to escape Canada and rejoin Renner. And now the weight of her love for Hannah and Pip seemed heavy enough to crush her heart.
“You see, Pip,” she told the tiny baby, as she rocked her back and forth, “the thing with being a mom is sometimes you’ve got to let your children make their own decisions. Your mommy loves your daddy so much, was so determined to be with him and so convinced he was right, that my choices were either to rat them out to law enforcement, let her go on her own or agree to go with her, to take care of you and try to keep her safe. She said once we met up with your daddy, he’d explain everything and I would understand. But now we’re locked in a closet on a hijacked boat. And I’ve gotta figure out how to get out of here while keeping you safe.”
The baby’s cries stopped. She waltzed Pip over to the table, opened the diaper bag, put down a change mat and laid Pip on top of it. Pip looked at her, with wide eyes, and kicked and waved her limbs.
“Now, listen to me,” Kelly said as she emptied the bag onto the table. “You and I are not going to fall apart. We’re made of tougher stuff than that, little Pip. You and I are going to hold it together, and figure our way out of this one step at a time.”
Her fingers brushed a pacifier. It was pink and had a duck on it. She popped it into Pip’s mouth. The baby sucked on it thoughtfully. Kelly kept searching. Thank You, God! The mini–stun gun was still there, along with a backup roll of both Canadian and American cash, an old-fashioned compass and the encrypted cell phone. No handgun or computer, though. She turned on the phone. It had a little bit of battery left but no cell signal. No phone charger, either. She let out a long breath.
“Well, it’s literally a mixed bag,” she told Pip. “But the good news is we’ve got enough formula to last twenty-four hours. It might be lukewarm and we’re just going to have to make do with that. One way or another, we’re getting out of this. Your grandfather’s a really good guy and the strongest man I’ve ever met. If anyone can find us, it’s him. And if not, we’ll find our way out of here and go find him.”
A lump caught in her throat. She ignored it. Pip needed her to be strong right now and that’s what she was going to do. That and pray.
Sudden movement on the monitor drew her eyes back. Seemed the Imposters had ordered everyone to their feet. She watched as the hostages stood, quaking and holding their hands in the air, some still clutching their phones. What was this? What was happening? Then through the crowd, she saw Liam. His eyes were locked on the camera, defiant and unflinching.
>
A faint haze moved across the top of the screen, like a distortion or smoke moving across the top of the room. Liam’s nose twitched and his gaze rose as if sensing something.
Then as she watched, people began to fall, collapsing and dropping to the ground like marionettes whose strings had just been cut.
* * *
Liam held his breath. Whatever it was they were piping in through the air vents, it felt thick, smelled sickly sweet and had the people around him dropping like flies. No doubt it looked pretty impressive on camera. But was it deadly? Hopefully not. Screams rose around him. People were panicking, collapsing and fainting. For a moment, he couldn’t even see their Imposter captors in the mayhem. He quickly crouched beside an elderly woman to his right and checked her pulse. Seemed like she’d fainted.
Whatever the toxin or illness, the very old and very young were invariably the most at risk. He prayed hard that Kelly and the baby were okay. But first, he had to take care of the hostages. Help me, God. He yanked the neckline of his shirt up over his nose and mouth and focused on moderating his breathing to inhale as little toxin as possible.
He fought the urge to raise his voice and shout at everyone to stay calm. He’d need every breath right now.
Every gas he knew that knocked a person out tended to take a different amount of time for different people, depending on all sorts of factors, from age, to build, to even how much they’d eaten. Thanks to his build, metabolism and his ability to moderate his breathing, he’d probably be the last man standing. But it was only a matter of time before he, too, fell.
He scanned the room, pushing his way through the panic. Then his eyes locked on the Imposters. Three remained, standing between him and the doors leading out to the fresh air on deck. All of them looked wobbly and unsteady, even like they were shaking.
Huh. Guess none of their friends warned them about the gas. But that matched what he knew about the criminals. Seemed it really was every Imposter for himself.
So three woozy, probably panicked and confused gun-wielding men stood between him and breathable air. Liam didn’t even hesitate. He charged, lowering his head, and plowed his body right into the chest of the nearest man, praying he’d catch him off guard before he had the chance to try and pull the trigger. Bull’s-eye. He caught him in a football tackle and planted his shoulder into the man’s sternum while one hand wrenched the weapon from his grasp. The Imposter went sprawling. Liam glanced at the gun and almost growled. It wasn’t even loaded. Again, not surprising considering an ad hoc online mob would likely have some problems arming themselves.
Hopefully, the other two masked men’s weapons were equally ineffective. Either way, it was a risk he was about to take.
“Drop your weapons!” Liam bellowed, swinging the useless weapon around and aiming it at the two Imposters on the other side of the room. “Now!”
They dropped their weapons so quickly it was like their arms had collapsed. Good. Thank You, God. One problem down. A bunch more to go.
His experienced eyes quickly scanned the room, looking for anyone in the chaos who still potentially had their head on straight.
“You!” He gestured first to an athletic-looking middle-aged couple near the middle of the room and then to two fit young women in matching sweaters at the far end. “Secure those weapons. Throw them overboard if you need to. Just don’t let anyone else get a hold of them.”
People throwing semiautomatic weapons overboard would be as good a sign as any to those law-enforcement people in hovering helicopters and rescue boats that it was time to swoop in and make their move despite whatever story the designated Imposter hostage negotiator they were talking to was feeding them.
“All right, everyone!” His voice rose above the chaos. “If you can crawl, get outside. If you can walk, drag someone who can’t with you.”
“The doors are locked!” a woman shouted.
Yeah, but not for long.
“Everybody get back!” Liam grabbed one of the tall tables with his free hand, swung it around like a club and smashed it through the window. Glass shattered and cold, clean, pure night air rushed in. Liam dove through the window, hit the deck and rolled to his feet. Sure enough, someone had looped what looked like bicycle locks around the door handles. Cheap and effective, and he was about to break them off. The table he’d bashed through the window had seen better days, but all it took him was one of the legs to break through the lock and tear the door handle off. The door flew open and people rushed through.
He quickly glanced at the rescue helicopters circling in the sky and waved both hands above his head. He’d been behind the scenes of enough hostage situations to know not to judge when rescuers made their move. It was possible the Imposters were feeding them all sorts of nonsense and stringing them on with all kinds of false threats and negotiation points. And he had no idea what signal they were waiting for that it was go-time.
Well, he was now giving them a pretty big one.
He glanced both ways down the deck and didn’t see a single Imposter. He wasn’t sure if that meant they’d run or just pulled off their masks and mingled with the crowd. He ran down the deck to the next door and the next lock. This one was heavy-duty, so this time he wedged his piece of broken table leg into the door frame and, with the help of a couple of partygoers, bent it back until the door broke free of its hinges. More people poured past him. Some led or carried loved ones and strangers along with them. Others pushed and shoved as they stampeded for the door. And his job was to save them all. One whiff of the air that accompanied them and he could tell the toxin was growing thicker. The dizziness in his head warned him if he inhaled any more, he was at risk of passing out.
He ran back in, feeling his body being buffeted by those streaming out. He prayed with every breath that Kelly and Pip had fresh air to breathe. Either way, he’d give his final breath for them. The room was emptying fast. He ran across the polished floor toward the door that the man with the yellow eye patch had led Kelly and the baby through. Then he saw another young woman passed out on the floor. She was waif thin and barely four feet, but, thankfully, she was breathing. He dropped his piece of broken table and bulletless gun, scooped her up into his arms and ran back toward the deck. He spotted a broad-shouldered man, at least six foot seven, Liam guessed, helping a couple of other men get the last few remaining partygoers out the door.
“Officer!” Liam shouted. It was an educated guess given the young man’s bearing and one that proved correct when he turned. Liam locked eyes with him. “You—I need you to come and take her.”
Without missing a beat, the young man did a swift check of those around him, made sure they were okay without his help and then jogged toward Liam.
“Up-to-date on CPR accreditation?” Liam asked. The man nodded, looking baffled. Liam eased the tiny woman into the man’s arms. Her eyes fluttered and Liam was thankful she was conscious. “Police division?”
“I’m from York Region,” he replied. “But I haven’t passed the academy yet. I’m not actually a cop.”
Not yet, but he would be.
“I’m Detective Liam Bearsmith, RCMP,” he said. “Come find me when you graduate.”
He allowed himself one more gasp of fresh air, then he ran back through the ballroom. It was empty now, but he still yanked back tablecloths and looked underneath to make sure no one was left. The air seemed to thicken around him. He pushed his body deeper and deeper into the sickly sweet and pungent smoke. The walls and floor undulated around him, as if he was underwater. Somehow he’d lost sight of where he’d dropped the bulletless gun and his makeshift weapon, but thankfully another broken table leg wasn’t hard to find. Or was it the same one? He couldn’t tell. He leaned on it like a crutch and pushed through, inhaling more and more knockout gas into his lungs with every breath. He had to find her. He had to make sure she was safe, even as he could feel the heaviness of the toxin filli
ng his body like quicksand dragging him down.
He reached a door, yanked the handle and found it locked. He swung back with the broken table leg, then smashed the handle over and over again until the door broke free of the frame. He fell through it, back into the same kitchen he’d been in before, and immediately the air felt lighter. He stumbled through, thankful to see the door to the pantry where he’d once found hostages was now open and the room was empty. Hopefully they’d made it to where the air was clean.
As for him, he now stayed upright by sheer willpower alone.
“Kelly!” He stumbled down the hall, forcing her name through his burning lungs, yanking open doors and almost tumbling through, as the ship seemed to move like it was being tossed in an ever-worsening storm.
Then he saw a bicycle lock looped around a doorknob ahead and on his right. He blinked, as his vision focused on the black-and-gold object sitting on the floor, propped up against the frame as if someone had left it there waiting just for him. He bent down and reached for it, stumbling and falling against the door. No, it couldn’t be, he had to be hallucinating. His fingers clamped on to the object, feeling its old, familiar form.
It was his police badge.
But who had left it there? And why?
“Liam?” The sound of Kelly’s voice calling his name cut through his foggy brain. The door shook in front of him as if someone was trying to jar it loose from the frame.
“Kelly...” He forced her name over his heavy tongue.
“Liam!” Her voice rose, full of strength and joy. “We’re in here! Pip and I are okay. But the door is locked!” Not for long. “Is everything okay? There’s a monitor in here. I saw people fainting and you helping break them out.”
“The Imposters pumped some kind of knockout gas into the air vents,” he said. “Big snazzy finale. But now law enforcement will move in and secure the boat.” In moments it would all be over. Liam would make sure Kelly and Pip were taken to a safe house, where someone he trusted would watch over them. And he could talk to his team and figure out how they were going to find Hannah. “Step back and take cover. I’m going to break the door down. Not much gas in the air out here, but you’ll want to inhale as little as possible and help shield the baby until we’re outside.”
Christmas Witness Conspiracy Page 6
