“But you know, even with the solid door, it will not necessarily protect the person hiding behind it, right?”
“I know.”
Block walked up to them. He eyed the armor. “Helluva contraption you got there.” He moved around it, checking it out from all angles. He reached over to pull on the bars. The system didn’t shake. “Solid. You sure do know your armor, don’t you?” Block extended a hand to Schullmann. “I’m Harry Block. I sell cars in Houston. You must be Marina’s father.”
Marina, who was standing next to Sumner, translated for her father.
Schullmann brightened. “What example of cars do you sell?” His English was passable, Sumner decided.
“You name it, we sell it.”
“SUVs?”
“Hell, yeah.”
Sumner could see a long conversation ensuing, and he had no time to spare for it.
“Any action out there?” he said.
Block broke off his patter with Schullmann. “No. But Clutch is back. He’s drunk. I wanted to punch the guy, but he’s so damn impaired, wouldn’t be sporting.”
Sumner was finding Clutch’s behavior to be more and more strange. He made a mental note to ask Wainwright how the man managed to become chief of security. He checked his watch.
“It’s late. You want to be spelled?”
Block nodded. “Cindy came by about an hour ago. I promised her to get some sleep.”
“Give Janklow your weapon. I’ve got to get some sleep myself.”
“I thought you went to do that already.”
“Didn’t work out.”
“So go. But this time, sleep, will ya?”
“First we’ve got to set up the armor.” He turned to the mechanic. “Can you get it to the first deck level? The area nearest the ladder.”
Block snorted. “You think these guys will be able to board?”
“I don’t think they’ll board, I know they’ll board. The only question is from which side?”
The entire group fell silent. Sumner glanced at Marina. Her face had lost all its color. He wished he could assure her that she was safe, but he couldn’t. Odds were they were soon to be attacked. The only questions were who would live, who would die, and who would be kidnapped.
He put an arm around Marina. “Why don’t you get some sleep? You may need it later.”
She shook her head. “I won’t be able to. I’m too afraid someone will climb in the porthole.”
“Come with me.”
Sumner took her by the hand. He nodded at Block and Schullmann before walking her to the decks. Block pursed his lips but refrained from commenting. Schullmann hardly noticed that his daughter was leaving.
Sumner escorted Marina to the kitchens behind the main restaurant. It was deserted. Pots hung from hooks overlooking a long steel prep table. The walls on each side were lined with sinks, counters, and bins labeled as containing food, spices, and various utensils. Sumner walked over to a wooden block with black knife handles sticking out of various slots. He pulled one out. The steel made a sleek slipping sound as he removed it. He handed it to Marina.
“Take this and keep it with you. They won’t need it tonight. You can return it in the morning.”
Marina gazed at the knife with a disappointed air.
“What’s the matter?”
She shrugged. “I would prefer it if you stayed with me.” She gave him a direct look that left no doubt as to what she was saying.
Sumner was surprised at the offer. He couldn’t remember the last time such a thing had happened to him, and for sure he couldn’t recall saying no. He could only hope circumstances would turn around soon and he could say yes. With Marina he was sorely tempted. He’d come to like her in the short time he’d known her. He admired the way she kept her dignity around her difficult father, and how she’d fired the flare gun. If he weren’t so sure the pirates would return soon, he would have liked nothing better than to keep her company. But the pirates’ inevitable attack occupied his mind and dominated his thoughts. He needed to focus on survival, and sleep was essential to his ability to function. Once he was horizontal, it was imperative that he rest. He paused a moment while he tried to marshal his tired thoughts. He wanted to explain why he wouldn’t stay in a way that spared her feelings.
“I can’t stay with you tonight; I’m needed on the deck. But don’t think for a minute that I don’t wish I could.”
She smiled. “I understand.” She showed him the knife. “I will take this. Thank you.”
“Let me escort you to your cabin.”
They left the darkened kitchen, moving down the dimly lit hallways.
“Why are the halls so dark?” Marina asked.
“They’re trying to conserve energy. The ship is on generator power only.”
They turned a corner. Marina’s mother stood in front of her door, a frightened look on her face.
“You are safe! I was worried about you.” The woman eyed Sumner. Marina introduced them, speaking in German. Frau Schullmann’s eyebrows rose.
“Herr Sumner, you speak German?” she said.
“I do.” Sumner kept his voice neutral. Marina’s mother was wound tight. Her lips were pinched together, creating hollows under her cheekbones. She clutched at Marina’s arm, and her eyes widened as she took in the wicked butcher knife. Sumner sought to put the woman at ease. “It’s from the kitchen. I suggested Marina sleep with it nearby. Just in case.”
Frau Schullmann visibly relaxed. “It’s good. Marina, would you like me to stay with you as well?”
“That’s not necessary. You’re just next door.”
“I’ll wish you both good night, then,” Sumner said.
He headed to his own stateroom and threw the metal bar that locked the door. He set his watch alarm to wake him in thirty minutes, hit the lights, and crawled into the bed fully clothed.
35
WHEN BANNER WOKE, IT WAS FULL DARK. THE HOUSE HELD A quiet, restful feeling. His shoulder, however, was less than restful. In fact, it was throbbing in a persistent rhythm. The ice pack remained full of not-yet-melted ice. Stromeyer must have replaced it recently, but for the life of him Banner couldn’t recall her doing so. He heaved himself to a sitting position, catching the ice bag as it dropped off his shoulder. He headed straight to the shower, studiously avoiding looking in the mirror. While the hot water was not the greatest for his swollen shoulder, it did wonders for his mood. He dressed and strolled to his living room, where a light glowed through the open door.
He found Stromeyer there, sitting in his favorite reading chair, next to his favorite reading lamp, her feet on his favorite ottoman. She had a stack of paper next to her, along with a glass of red wine, a plate of cheese, and a highlighter pen. Banner’s gas fireplace threw flickering color around the Oriental carpet on the floor, and in the background his integrated music system played soft jazz.
“How do you like the chair?” he said.
Stromeyer looked up at him, and a smile lit her face. “How do you feel?”
He wanted to shrug, but the movement would cause unnecessary pain, so he settled for rocking his left hand back and forth. “Okay. Shoulder is bad, but not as bad as it could have been.”
She rose. “Do you want to sit?”
He waved her back down. “You stay there. I’ll use the other one.” Banner sank into a matching chair opposite Stromeyer. She went to a minibar set in a corner of the living room, poured him a shot of his preferred cognac, and walked across the room to hand it to him. He noticed she was barefoot. Her toes were painted a nude color.
“How long have I been sleeping?”
Stromeyer settled back into her prior position, folding her legs underneath her. “Eight hours. The police were here. At first they insisted that I wake you up. I refused, and I opened the door to the bedroom so they could see you. One look at your face and they agreed that the interview could wait until after you woke.” She picked up a business card off the cocktail table in front of her. �
�Here’s the detective’s number. He said just call the interview in. He’ll take it from there.”
“How bad do I look?” Banner was so busy focusing on his shoulder pain that he’d forgotten about the temple shot. He reached up to touch it gingerly. There was a swelling that felt like a small egg, but it didn’t throb nearly as much as the rest of him.
Stromeyer cocked her head to one side as she assessed him. “Like you’ve been in a car accident. The side of your face is a lovely black with red around the edges. Not to worry, though—I don’t think you’ll have any lasting marks. Your good looks remain.”
Banner snorted. “Who cares about my looks as long as everything continues to function?”
Stromeyer took a sip of her wine. From her expression it appeared as though she wanted to reply, but she refrained. She held the cheese plate out to him. “Hungry?”
Banner leaned forward to pluck some cheese from the platter. “Starving. Want to go to dinner? There’s a great trattoria around the corner. Run by an entire Italian family. It’s not fancy, but the food is outstanding.”
Stromeyer nodded. “Sure. But before we go, I have some bad news and some much worse news.”
Banner didn’t like the sound of that. He grimaced and took a swallow of his cognac. “Okay, go ahead.”
“Ahmed never made contact with Caldridge. He was found dead in his apartment.”
“Who found him?”
“The neighbors called the authorities after they smelled a stench. No signs of a struggle. The authorities are conducting an autopsy.”
“And Caldridge? Is she still in Nairobi, then?”
Stromeyer shook her head. “Roducci said she insisted on flying a khat flight into Somalia. Vanderlock flew her.”
Banner leaned back in the chair. “That’s a lucky break. Vanderlock’s fairly reliable.”
“The Price Pharmaceuticals jet went up in flames after landing at the Hargeisa airport.”
Banner stilled. “What in the world was a Price corporate jet doing in Hargeisa?”
“No one seems to know.”
Banner took another sip of his cognac while he digested this information. “A bomb blows up at an ultra where Price is a sponsor and Caldridge a Price-sponsored athlete. During the race someone targets Caldridge and injects her with a performance-enhancing drug. And now the Price jet blows up in Somalia. Quite a set of coincidences.”
Stromeyer nodded. “Too many coincidences for my taste, but I can’t figure out if all of this is somehow tied into your getting beaten up.”
Banner pointed his shot glass at her. “I beg to differ. I wasn’t beaten up, I was the one doing the beating.”
Stromeyer raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you should go look in the mirror.”
Banner always took pains to avoid looking in the mirror after any pummeling. In his experience the aftereffects of a beating were always worse than the actual injuries. It was better not to dwell on them. Otherwise he might think he was more broken than he really was.
“I have a hunch the whole thing is tied to Price somehow. The mousy assistant—”
“Susan Plower.”
“—said that Price manufactured the vaccines. Maybe whoever’s at the bottom of this got wind of Darkview’s mission to secure the ship and they’re covering all bases. One of those bases includes threatening me.”
Stromeyer looked pained. “That’s a bad thing on so many levels, I don’t know where to start. If you’re correct, then they must already know what the ship is carrying. And if that’s true, then all this secrecy is wasted effort. We might as well send in seven different aircraft carriers to surround the ship and escort it to port. You think they tapped our phones and that’s how they heard we were hired?”
Banner considered her suggestion. “Doubtful. The DOD call came through on this home line. We’ve never detected a tap here.” He stood up. “Let’s go to dinner. Maybe it will all become clearer on a full stomach.”
The night air was fresh, with more than a hint of summer. Banner enjoyed this time of the year, and he found himself relishing the walk through his neighborhood. The only dark spot on the evening was right before they left, when Stromeyer had insisted he carry concealed. He had a license to do so but rarely did. He’d spent so many years carrying guns that he was loath to do it on civilian territory. Besides, he figured Stromeyer had one on her person somewhere. He thought his weapon was overkill. Also, Banner preferred a shoulder holster, but his injury didn’t make that feasible. Currently the gun was located at the small of his back in a holster that wrapped around his waist. He wore a casual blazer to hide the bulge of the gun.
They made it to the restaurant, ordered dinner, and, as if by mutual consent, changed the topic to current events. It was only when the espresso order came that the subject veered back to their immediate circumstances.
“Are you going to sleep at the town house?” Stromeyer asked.
Banner sighed. “No. I’d be an easy target. I thought I’d pack a bag and head to the airport hotel.”
“And from there?”
“Dubai.”
Stromeyer didn’t seem surprised at all. “You’re due to speak at the local Rotary Club.”
Banner groaned. He’d forgotten all about it. “Can you cover for me? Tell them I’ve been in some sort of accident? God knows it wouldn’t be far from the truth.”
“Of course I can cover for you. I expect to see Cooley there.”
“Cooley! Why?”
“He’s a member. Didn’t you know?”
Banner put his espresso cup down a little harder than he intended. The noise of it hitting the saucer clanged through the room. He really disliked Cooley.
“All the more reason for me not to go. You do the speech. If Cooley’s there, pull him off to the side and tell him just what happened to me in the basement of his office. Let me know if you think he was involved in some way.”
Stromeyer shook her head. “I’d be shocked if he was. He’s a jerk, I’ll admit that, but he doesn’t seem to be the type to beat up rivals.” She caught the waiter’s eye and made a writing motion. He appeared at their table with the check.
Banner took it, extracted his business credit card, and slapped it down on the vinyl wallet that held the bill. Ten minutes later they were back outside and working their way toward the town house. Banner’s arm throbbed, his face hurt, and his torso felt as if someone had used it for a punching bag—which, when he thought about it, was exactly what had happened. What he wanted more than anything was to sleep in his own bed that night. He turned the corner to his house, and three of his best men were lounging on the front steps. They all stood up to greet him and Stromeyer.
“Hey, Banner,” Gage Johnson said. Gage worked most of England and Ireland for Darkview. He was a trained knife fighter, and so he thrived in settings where guns were not the norm. He was in D.C. for only a few days on a brief layover from Los Angeles before heading back to England. Standing next to him were Steven Cardill and Tyler Walter. Both worked Northern Europe.
“To what do I owe the honor of your visit?” Banner asked.
“We heard about your close encounter with several of D.C.’s finest criminal elements. We figured you might need some security. Are you up for a poker game? Should keep us occupied most of the night.”
Banner stepped into the pool of light thrown by the outdoor lamp, and he watched the men grimace.
“That’s bad,” Tyler said.
“Don’t tell me. I haven’t looked yet. But I’d like to sleep in my own bed. If you guys stand guard, I’ll be more than grateful. But I’ll pass on the poker game. It’s all I can do to stay on my feet.”
“Major Stromeyer, you could be the fourth.”
Stromeyer shook her head. “I’m out, sorry. I’ve got to prepare a speech for tomorrow. My car is parked just down the street.”
“I’ll walk you,” Gage said. Stromeyer waved at them all before leaving.
Half an hour later, Banner dozed off to the murmu
r of conversation and the thud of thrown poker chips emanating from his kitchen. Once again he was thankful for sleep.
36
“THANK GOD, YOU’RE ALIVE,” EMMA SAID. THE GAG IN STARK’S mouth made it impossible for him to respond. The van’s interior was stripped to the metal sides. Stark sat with his back against the wall separating the cabin from the cargo area. His tied hands rested in his lap. His face was bright red, alarmingly so. He looked about to pass out from the heat. Emma jumped into the vehicle and went straight to remove the gag. Stark bent his head forward to give her easier access to the knot.
When the fabric fell away, Stark said, “Water.” His voice was hoarse, almost a croak.
“There’s some in the car parked ahead of this one. Let me help you out of this furnace, and I’ll go get it.” Emma turned to the cloth strips binding his wrists and ankles together. After a minute they, too, unwound. She scooted backward with Stark following. He staggered onto the ground.
“Let’s get the water and go back to hide in the trees.”
Stark said nothing while Emma retrieved the canteen. She gave it to him and watched while he took huge gulps.
“Better?” she asked.
“You have no idea.” He took a deep breath.
“Let’s get out of the open. Last thing we need is for the crowd that brought you here to come back.”
Stark followed her to her hiding place. Emma crouched down behind a tree. When Stark joined her, she asked him the question that couldn’t wait any longer.
“Who suggested that you hire me to review Cardovin?”
Stark rubbed a hand over his eyes, whether in irritation or resignation, Emma couldn’t tell.
“Do we have to have this conversation now?”
She nodded. “Absolutely. Bumping into me in the airport wasn’t just a coincidence, was it? You’re in this up to your eyeballs, Mr. Stark. I just can’t figure out how I play into the situation. And think before you answer, because if you lie, or try to hedge, I’ll leave you here to deal with whatever comes.”
For a minute he said nothing. Then he nodded, almost to himself. “We were pressured by a lobbyist claiming to have ties to both the FDA and the members of Congress who were threatening to conduct an investigation into various drug products.”
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