by Rebecca York
Had Mason and Ray come here to rescue her? Had that been their mission all along? And he hadn’t realized it.
Walker should have figured that out.
No. Forget Walker. He’d only been stalling while he played his own game.
Bruno had trusted his security chief. Relied on him. And look what had happened. Well, never again. He’d use security men in the future, but he’d never confide in them again.
That was for later. When he’d had time to regroup. For now, he had to clear his escape route. His mind considered contingencies. Maybe he didn’t have to wait for them to drown. Maybe there was a quicker way.
He’d had the ship modified to his specifications. Now he took a narrow passage downward which would give him closer access to the interior dock. For now, he had to keep them busy.
“Did you really think you could get away so easily?” he asked. “You’re all going to drown in there, like the rats you are.”
oOo
Emma’s chest tightened as she heard a clanking noise and saw the water level in the pool begin to rise. The Windward’s owner must be in the control room, and he was flooding the compartment. She looked up, seeing the metal ceiling above them. When the water rose to that level, there would be no more air to breathe in here.
“Maybe not.” Cole raised his Uzi and shot the television screen, shattering Del Conte’s view of the dock. At least he wasn’t going to see them drown.
The water was lapping at the top of the catwalk as Walker and Cole conferred.
Cole turned to Emma. “You can handle the boat’s controls, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then get the women into the craft and start the engine.”
Emma looked from the women to the boat and back again. They could ride the water level up. But then what? Trusting that Cole and Ben had a plan, she pulled on one of the mooring lines, guiding the boat to the metal walkway where water now sloshed.
The two other women scrambled in. Emma followed and examined the controls. The key was in the ignition, and she turned it, holding her breath until the engine caught.
She could see the two men moving along the catwalk, sloshing through water. How long before the whole enclosure filled up?
oOo
“Do you think Del Conte can hear us?” Cole asked.
“Don’t know,” Walker answered. “Maybe it doesn’t matter.”
From the other side of the locked door, they could hear hammering.
“Guys trying to get in?”
“Sounds like it.”
The hammering was replaced by a spray of gunfire. But Del Conte had designed the room so that entry wasn’t going to be easy.
“Won’t the guards out there get slammed against the wall by a big wave if they break through.”
“Their problem.”
Cole looked from the hatch to the outer bay door. “I take it we can’t shoot through there either.”
“The metal’s bulletproof. You might be able to shoot out the windows.” He pointed to high, narrow panes that let in slivers of light. Unfortunately, not enough water can get out of those to do us any good. But there’s an alternative.” Walker gestured toward a ladder in one corner of the enclosure. Lowering his voice, he continued, “Tricky Bruno has a lot of contingency plans. They weren’t for public consumption, but I was able to break into his computer files and poke around. There are plastic explosives up there we can use to break out.”
“Yeah, I guess he can get anything he wants. What else does he have up his sleeve?”
“He’s got charges set that can blow up the whole ship if he wants.”
“Christ.”
“If he’s got the nerve to do it.”
“Maybe he still thinks he can get away.”
Walker sloshed to the ladder and began to climb, wincing as he used his bad arm.
Cole followed, looking back to see Emma watching intently. If he didn’t get her out of here, he was going to kill Frank Decorah. Except that he couldn’t because he and Emma would be dead.
Above him, Walker opened a compartment and handed down a packet to Cole. He took it and started for the catwalk. There was already two feet of water on the deck, making it hard to walk.
He’d had some experience with explosive charges, but then he’d been trying to break in somewhere. Now he was racing against time—to get out of this death trap.
Walker joined him, and they conferred at the metal doors, deciding where to set the charges, well at the sides.
Looking back he saw that the boat was rising toward the ceiling. If they didn’t blow the doors soon, it was all over.
He and Walker each took a packet of plastic explosives and molded them against the door, then set the detonators and turned back to the escape boat.
They had to swim for it now, Walker awkwardly with one arm disabled. But the two women in the back helped haul them in.
“How long? Emma asked.
“Three minutes. Already counting.” A lifetime, under the circumstances. Was the water rising faster, or was that his imagination. And was he imagining that the air was getting harder to breathe?
Raising the Uzi, he shot some holes in the glass panels of the metal door, hoping that would help the oxygen situation.
“Get down,” he told the women, moving to shield Emma from the blast.
A clanking in the ceiling made him look up toward a hatch he hadn’t seen before.
More rasping followed, and he tensed as a metal plate slid to the side, then dropped into the water with a splash.
The women in the back of the boat screamed as a grinning Del Conte loomed directly above them, an AK47 in his hand.
“Got ya!”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Del Conte was so focused on his tricky move that he didn’t realize his fatal mistake. His grin faded when he realized how close the boat was to the hatch.
As the ship owner began to fire on the people below, Cole surged upward, grabbing the barrel of the gun and giving a mighty yank.
Del Conte stopped shooting and switched his effort to stopping himself from tumbling through the hatch. Maybe if he’d let go of the gun, he could have backed up, but he kept up the tug of war with Cole, who had the greater strength and the advantage of gravity. The ship’s owner lost his footing, tumbling downward through the hatch and into the boat, still clutching the gun.
He and Cole were struggling for the weapon when Karen surged forward, a metal first aid box in her hand. She crashed it down on Del Conte’s head, and the man went limp. Then she kept hitting. Raising and lowering the box, turning the side of his head into a bloody pulp.
“Enough,” Emma called, staring at the young woman.
As Karen stood in stunned shock, Walker and Anna pitched the Windward’s owner out of the boat.
“Thank God,” Anna wheezed, seconds before a tremendous boom filled the confined space. As it blew the doors off the dock area, it knocked the passengers off their feet and they fell together in a heap in the bottom of the boat. All but Emma who was holding tight to the wheel.
“Hang on,” she screamed as she struggled to keep the craft steady while a wave of water surged toward them, slamming them against the back wall, then propelling them forward toward the ragged hole where the doors had been.
Del Conte’s limp body shot past, disappearing below the surface of the churning water.
“Duck,” Emma shouted, scrunching down to avoid a jagged piece of metal hanging down in the doorway.
As they rocketed out into the open sea, Cole felt a surge of relief, until he saw the water seeping into the bottom of the boat. He’d been too busy to notice earlier that Del Conte’s bullets had pierced the bottom of the craft.
He emptied the first aid kit, using the box to bail water. The women had also found containers holding emergency supplies and were frantically scooping out water.
“What about the radio?” he asked Walker.
The security chief pointed to the cockpit.
&
nbsp; “Take over the bailing,” Cole said as he maneuvered to the front and clicked on the communications equipment.
They’d left Florida with an automatic system. Now he began broadcasting on a public frequency. With Del Conte out of the way, there was no need to speak on a private channel or in code.
“This is Cole Marshall. Cole Marshall. And Emma Richards. We have cleared the Windward. We have KH with us. We are in a sinking boat and need immediate assistance.” Using the GPS in the cockpit, he gave their coordinates.
At first he heard nothing, and he thought he hadn’t gotten through. Behind him, Walker and the women were losing the battle to keep the craft afloat.
He kept repeating the message, wondering if he should broadcast a general May Day message.
Finally, the speaker crackled. “Cole Marshall, this is Decorah Security. We have your location. We will rendezvous momentarily.”
“Over there,” Emma shouted, pointing toward the right as a cabin cruiser came speeding toward them.
When it pulled alongside, Cole helped Karen to the ladder, guiding her up.
“Go,” he said to Emma as soon as Karen was on board the rescue craft. She scrambled up, followed by Anna, then Walker. Cole was last, watching water swamp the speedboat.
“Get up here, you fool,” Frank Decorah called, obviously unable to keep his cool.
“Aye, aye, sir,” Cole answered as he complied.
On board, he stepped into the cabin and saw Karen holding tight to an older man. Her father!
Apparently Morton Hopewell had insisted on joining the rescue party. Cole shuddered. What if they hadn’t been able to free Karen?
“I am so sorry this happened to you,” Hopewell was saying. You’re ‘re sure you’re all right?”
“Yes.” She looked back at the group who had come aboard. “Thanks to Emma and Cole and the others. Ben Walker was Del Conte’s security chief.”
The older Hopewell reared back. “Then what the hell is he doing here?”
“He was working under cover,” Anna said.
“And you are?” Hopewell demanded.
“On the staff in the beauty salon,” the Asian woman supplied. “I was part of a group trying to take Del Conte down.
Where is Del Conte?” Hopewell asked.
Cole glanced at Karen, figuring she could fill her dad in on the details if she wanted to. “Drowned. He won’t threaten you or anyone else again.”
“But there are more people who need to be rescued from the Windward,” Anna said. “Cast members who are in danger from the security staff.”
“Cast members? That’s what he calls them—like at Disney World.”
“Yes.”
“We have a team standing by,” Decorah answered. He turned to Walker. “How would you suggest we go in?”
“Broadcast to the ship that Del Conte is dead. Anyone who wants to get off will be given passage to the mainland.”
“Some of the guards are dangerous,” Anna breathed.
“But a lot of them are good men who got trapped here just the way you did,” Ben said. “I can give you a list of the ones with criminal records. You can have the Miami police standing by to take care of those.”
“Good idea,” Frank answered, then turned to Emma and Cole. “Excellent job.”
“Thanks,” Cole answered, thinking that they almost hadn’t made it. But he’d save that until later.
“Let’s go where we can talk.” Frank ushered Emma and Cole into a private cabin.
As soon as the door was closed, Cole rounded on Decorah. “That was an unacceptable risk. Emma and I could have gotten killed.”
Frank’s expression turned apologetic. “I know that now. I didn’t know it when I sent you. And I was desperate to get Karen back.”
“What’s she to you?”
He swallowed. “My daughter.”
“What?” Emma breathed.
“She doesn’t know it. And don’t tell her.”
“Then what’s she doing with Hopewell?” Cole asked.
Sadness suffused Frank’s features. “Her mother died when she was born. And I was dealing with a missing leg. I couldn’t take care of her on my own. Morton and Sarah Hopewell were desperate to adopt a child. When they told me they’d love her like their own, I knew giving her to them was the right thing to do.”
He dragged in a breath and let it out. “She’s been happy with them. They gave her more than I ever could.”
Cole nodded, understanding why his boss had seemed so personally involved in the rescue mission.
“That’s why her face looked familiar to us?”
“Yes. And she has her mother’s red hair. But that’s the end of this discussion. Give me the executive summary of the mission, so I can feel guilty about putting you in so much danger.”
“It turned out okay,” Cole answered.
He and Emma supplied a brief account of their time on the Windward.
“I’ve got that recorded, but I’ll need a detailed written report,” Decorah said when they were finished, all business again.
Emma ran a hand through her hair, obviously still coping with what they’d learned a few minutes ago. “Did you bring clothes for us?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. And you can shower, too.”
He handed them each a suitcase, and they disappeared into separate cabins to shower and change.
Cole was glad to wash off the sordid atmosphere of the Windward. When he’d dried off, he chose jeans and a dark knit shirt. When Emma came out, she was wearing chinos and a white camp shirt, a look which was much better suited to her than the outfits she’d been forced to wear on the Windward.
When they joined the group in the ship’s lounge, Frank was talking earnestly to Ben Walker, who was relaxing in an easy chair, his arm bandaged.
The conversation broke off when Cole and Emma reappeared, and he wondered what they’d been talking about.
“I could use a drink,” Frank said.
He looked at Cole. “Maybe you want double strength herbal tea.”
“Yeah,” Cole answered and glanced at Emma.
“Tea will do,” she said.
“You’ve adopted Cole’s habits,” their boss said with a speculative look at them.
“Maybe,” Emma snapped. Frank took the hint and left her staring out the window toward the mainland.
Cole tried to get comfortable in a leather chair. But he was too tense. He ached for some privacy with Emma, but at the same time he was dreading the conversation they were going to have when they were alone.
He got a reprieve when the boat docked, and Karen and her father came up to them.
“We’re both very grateful for what you did,” Hopewell said.
“We were doing our jobs.”
“At great risk to yourselves. I’d like to reward you for that.”
“No need,” Cole said brusquely.
“I didn’t mean to offend,” Hopewell answered.
“You didn’t,” Emma said quickly. “We were both thankful everything worked out.”
Karen looked at her. “We weren’t friends in school, but I’m so grateful to you now. If I ever want to talk to you, is that all right?”
“Of course.” She held out her arms, and Karen came into them. No, they hadn’t been friends, but they’d shared an experience that bonded them together. And Emma knew that it had helped mature both of them. They hugged, before Emma eased away. “Take care,” she murmured.
“I will. Thanks to you. I guess I have some thinking to do—about my life.”
“Don’t make any decisions until you have a chance to decompress.”
“I won’t.”
Cole shook hands with Hopewell, and they left the ship, rolling the suitcases Decorah had brought them.
The Infinity was where he had parked it, but he realized he was missing his wallet and keys.
Decorah must have known there would be a problem because he handed Cole and Emma wallets with ID and credit cards—plu
s another set of car keys for Cole.
“You turned down Hopewell, but don’t turn down the bonus I’m giving you,” he said. “For getting someone important to me out of there.”
“I’d say we earned it,” Cole replied.
“And you two are due for some R&R. You have a suite reserved at the St. Augustine,” he added, mentioning a luxury resort in the area. I’ll expect you back in two weeks.”
“Thanks,” Cole answered, then cleared his throat. “I get the feeling you’re going to offer Ben Walker a job.”
“Do you approve?”
“Yes,” both Cole and Emma answered.
“That’s an excellent recommendation.”
“Go on. Get out of here and try to relax,” Frank said.
Cole wasn’t going to ask why their boss assumed they were going off together, and apparently Emma didn’t want to question it, either.
He counted it as a good sign that she hadn’t said she wanted to go back to DC immediately—alone.
“Are we going to talk?” he asked.
“Eventually,” she snapped.
They had been driving for ten minutes, when she pointed to a strip mall and said, “Stop at that shopping center.”
The tone of her voice made him wonder what she needed. It also made him think that he’d better not ask.
He found a parking place, and she got out. “I’ll be back in a while,” she said, as she marched off.
He sat behind the wheel, waiting for her, his tension growing as the minutes ticked by. Finally, after half an hour, she reappeared holding a small carry bag.
“Did you buy some more clothes?” he asked.
“Some other stuff I needed,” she answered. “Let’s go to that resort.”
The look in her eye didn’t reassure him, but at least she was still with him.
He drove to the St. Augustine, where they checked in and were shown to a waterfront suite with a living room, small kitchen, two bedrooms and two marble bathrooms. Maybe Frank hadn’t been so sure if they wanted to be together after all.
When Cole had tipped the bellman and closed the door, he turned to Emma.
His stomach was tied in knots, but he struggled to speak normally. “Well, you’re still here.”
She answered with a little shrug, then folded her arms across her chest.
