by Matt Hilton
Hartlaub and I shared a glance. I looked back at my old mentor and found him digging in his shirt pocket. He plucked out a cigar, and without preamble jammed it between his teeth. He’d said what he was going to say on the subject, and I’d have to like it or lump it. I was still going after Cain, and if that meant that Hartlaub accompanied me then so be it. I lifted my hands to signify surrender.
Walter was right. My priority was to get Jennifer away from Cain and if Cain escaped while I was otherwise engaged then that’s the way it would be. I’d prefer to kill the son of a bitch myself, but if Hartlaub got to him first then I could live with that. My only regret was that I’d sent Harvey away. I’d rather it was him or Rink accompanying me. Still, I recalled when I first met Hartlaub and had judged him as a warrior to be admired. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad with him watching my back.
I offered him my hand. ‘Nothing personal, mate.’
He unfolded his arms, stuck out his hand and we shook. ‘I know.’
‘Thanks for saving Imogen, as well. I owe you one.’
Hartlaub shrugged. ‘I was just the driver. Brigham did all the wet work.’
Walter had transferred the cigar to his fingers. ‘Are you two all made up now, because we’ve more important things to be getting on with?’
‘We’re good,’ I confirmed.
He returned to his seat and the plastic crackled as he sat. He frowned at the other furniture in the room, likely thinking he’d have to replace everything. However clean it appeared on the surface it was still drenched with the blood of his murdered friend. Personally I’d have dumped it all in a huge pile outside and set it on fire. No, scratch that. I’d have torched the building.
Walter stuffed his cigar between his teeth, speaking out of the corner of his mouth. ‘You asked me to bring John in. Well, I’m finding that difficult. He’s under the protection of the US Marshals and I haven’t been able to find a good enough reason for them to release him into my custody.’ Walter sneaked a glance at Hartlaub, but I didn’t miss it. When I glanced the CIA agent’s way, he was studying his feet. Without missing a beat, Walter continued. ‘So, your plan to use him to draw out Cain must be put on the back burner. If it comes to it, I’ll pull rank and demand John’s attendance but for now we will concentrate on freeing Jennifer without him.’
‘I never intended placing him in harm’s way. I just wanted Cain to hear his voice,’ I said. ‘Surely you can have him brought to the other end of a phone?’
‘Yes, yes, if it becomes necessary. But let’s concentrate on what we can do without him.’
‘What’s going on, Walt?’
‘We’re planning on taking down Tubal Cain, that’s what’s going on.’
‘You act edgy every time I mention John.’
‘Because we’ve more urgent business to contend with, that’s why. Now . . . can we plan on how we intend to kill this bastard or not?’
‘Make all the plans you want, Walter. You can come get me when you’re done.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘I’m going to take a shower. It stinks in here.’
The room wasn’t the only thing that stank. So did Walter’s lies, and the more I tried to make sense of them, the more they made me feel sick to the core.
Trying to expunge the nausea, I spent some time under a hot shower in the stall at the back of the cabin. Soap and shampoo didn’t help, so I turned the dial to its lowest setting and cleansed myself with its icy chill. When I was done, I found the roughest towel I could get my hands on and practically flagellated myself with it, like I was paying penance. I dumped my sweats and dressed in my spares, settling my weapons about my body. For a moment I considered walking away. If what I suspected was true then I wondered why I was still involved. But the thought was fleeting. Jennifer was in peril, and therefore I was going to do everything I could to save her.
When I got back to the living room their anticipation hit me like an electrical charge. Walter and Hartlaub were bent over a laptop and when they looked up I knew that the waiting was over. Hartlaub was as steady as usual but Walter looked pale, a sheen of perspiration on his forehead. He licked his lips, tongue flicking rapidly as he moistened his dry mouth. ‘We’re on.’
Chapter 37
Cain considered his new domain and hated it. The Queen Sofia was a rusting hulk, an ugly, sprawling container ship that carried with it a memory of all the nefarious activity it had been involved in over the years. Most recently it had been used to transport girls snatched from the Balkans and destined for the sex trade in the US. It was no better below decks; the interior of the ship was as unsavoury as the crewmen who worked there. He hated the stench of unwashed bodies, the grease that got everywhere and the ever-present acidic undertones of corrosion. He felt itchy, unclean, as if bugs crawled under his clothing and burrowed into his skin. He couldn’t wait to be off the vessel, back in the good clean air again.
He walked down the corridor – he couldn’t be bothered with all those fancy nautical terms – towards the rooms that Captain Grodek had made into temporary holding cells. At his shoulder walked Baron, seemingly as unconcerned with the filth and stench as he was with the blood now decorating the front of his jacket. Baron, to prove his allegiance to Cain, had shot fat Brady point-blank in his gut despite the blow-back from the wound. He’d stood there impassively while Cain had bent over the dying man and finished the job he’d started on his thumb. Cain nicked it off with the Recon Tanto and tossed it to Baron.
‘Hold that for me will ya, I’m all fingers and thumbs these days,’ Cain had quipped.
Baron hadn’t acknowledged the joke, just slipped the severed digit into a pocket for safe keeping.
Now Cain ignored the man’s presence; his wit seemed to be wasted on everyone these days.
They’d only had to kill another two of Grodek’s men. The others had grumbled at the sudden shift in command, but only until Cain had slaughtered the ringleaders. After that they acquiesced in his way of thinking. As long as they were paid for their efforts, they didn’t care who their masters were. Cain promised them a good pay day once this trip was over, and they bought it. The fact he’d no intention of being aboard the ship within the next couple hours didn’t matter. He was no fool. He’d used various means to cover his tracks while making contact with the black-ops controller, but it didn’t matter how many firewalls he directed the calls through, they’d have been tracked back to this ship. Chances were that Walter Hayes Conrad would consider having the ship torpedoed rather than allow him to escape a second time, which was why Cain had organised a second boat to take him and Jennifer elsewhere.
Cain fancied himself as a Prince of Chaos. He didn’t care if plans went to crap, for that was the nature of the universe he inhabited. Let Conrad nuke the ship if he wanted to, let him send an assault team of Navy Seals; all they’d find was a Mary Celeste when they got here. Cain’s plan was always adaptable, to take into account the whim of chaotic influence, and it didn’t matter that his original plan to lure John Telfer wasn’t as easy as he’d assumed. He was confident that Telfer would be delivered to him sooner or later.
He unlocked the letterbox hatch and peered through the slot, nodding in satisfaction at the empty room. Jennifer had been moved to somewhere less odious, as he’d commanded Pete Eckhart, the driver. By doing his bidding, Eckhart had proven his loyalty. He was one of the few who would be allowed to live when they disembarked the ship. Cain and Baron would have their hands full with Jennifer and whoever showed up to save her, someone had to steer the launch to land. Eckhart could always be disposed of later.
He glanced over his shoulder at Baron. The man was standing calmly, staring into space. Weirdo, Cain thought. He walked on and heard Baron falling into step behind him.
They took a turn in the passage, and approached another room. This one had a similar door to that of the first cell, with a hinged flap cut into the metal. Cain unlocked the hatch and let it drop with a clang. Inside, Jennifer didn
’t respond. She was sitting in a chair, her wrists and ankles bound with leather straps. Her head hung down, her hair masking her features. Eckhart had reported that she’d refused to eat and had spat the mouthful he’d forked into her mouth back at him.
‘Wait here,’ Cain said. Baron pursed his lips, but stayed exactly where he was. Though he’d taken hold of the loose threads of Hendrickson’s organisation, Baron knew that he’d never control Cain. He’d offered his loyalty, though Cain suspected it was tenuous. It did the man good to be put in his place.
Opening the door fully, Cain stepped inside the room. It had been decorated to offer some comfort, but was still disgusting: the off-white walls, stained by who knew what, and smelly threadbare carpet reminded Cain of times he’d holed up in the cheapest of motels. Even his cell at Fort Conchar had been more stylish than some of those.
‘Do you remember when I brought you here?’ Cain stood with his hands clasped behind his back, rocking on his heels like a Gestapo interrogator. Jennifer made no move to reply or to even lift her head. ‘That time I had you drugged and carried here. I can have you drugged again, or you can walk. Which will it be?’
‘Where are my children?’ Jennifer’s voice was hoarse, not unlike Cain’s.
‘We’ve been over this before.’
‘If you’ve hurt them . . .’
‘What? What will you do? Kill me?’
‘Yes.’ Jennifer’s head finally came up and the look on her face was like that of a wild beast. Her lips peeled back from her teeth, and she stated the point more forcefully. ‘I will tear you apart.’
‘I love your spirit, Jennifer. If you weren’t already spoken for I’d ask for your hand in marriage.’ He looked at where her left hand was strapped to the chair, traced the lines of her metacarpals beneath the skin. ‘Actually, your hand would be all I’d take.’
‘I want to see my children.’
‘Didn’t you hear me?’ Cain wondered if she had surfaced enough from the drugs to have taken in anything when last he’d spoken to her. ‘They’re waiting for you back home in England. If you want to see them again you will have to do as I say. Now . . . are you going to answer my question?’
‘I’ll walk.’
‘Good. It’s so much easier if you do that.’
‘Did John come?’
Cain didn’t answer.
‘I told you he wouldn’t.’
‘He’s on his way now.’
‘Don’t bet on it.’
‘I think you should stop being so negative about John. It’s only because he’s agreed to come that you’re still alive. Why don’t you cut him some slack?’
‘Like he did for me you mean?’
‘Actually, he probably did you a big favour when he left. How did you manage to live with such an insufferable man for so long?’
‘You don’t know him.’
‘You’re wrong. John and I shared some quality time. I know what kind of person he is. He will come, you can be sure of that.’
‘He won’t, but Joe will.’ Jennifer peered at the scar tissue marking Cain’s throat. ‘Did Joe do that to you?’
Cain stretched his neck, fancying that he could hear the cartilage pop in his windpipe. ‘This is just a scratch.’
‘Next time he’ll finish the job. He’ll cut your head off to make sure you’re dead.’
Cain clapped his hands rapidly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. ‘You make it all sound so very exciting,’ he said gleefully. ‘I can’t wait.’
‘You should let me go now while you still have the chance.’
Cain went very still. ‘Oh, no, no, no. I think that you’re placing too much faith in Joe Hunter. Right now he’s a wanted felon, running around like a headless chicken. Does that sound like the kind of man who’s going to race in on a white charger and whisk you out of harm’s way?’
It was Jennifer’s turn to go still, but her jaw was set and she held his gaze. ‘You’re afraid of him.’
Cain knew that Hunter was a skilled and resourceful enemy. Though it pained him to admit it, he respected Hunter’s dogged approach to the chase, but fear him? No. He feared no man.
‘I’m only afraid he’s going to arrive late and miss what I’m going to do to John,’ he said.
A shiver ran its icy finger up Jennifer’s spine and he took that moment to step forward and place the tip of his Tanto beneath her left eye. ‘Now, Jennifer, this is the situation. You can walk out of here and do exactly as I say, and at the end of it I will release you. The alternative is that I cut off your face and leave you here for the rats. I do not need you. I can always find your children again. They would be sufficient to bait my trap.’
‘I’ll do what you say.’
‘Good. Get moving.’
‘I can’t walk anywhere strapped to this bloody chair.’
Cain withdrew the knife, smiled down on the woman. She had more spunk than he’d have given her credit for: it was something he could admire.
‘OK. No trouble from you, and we’ll get along fine.’ Cain turned and saw that his new partner was still standing motionless in the corridor. ‘Baron, come and loosen Mrs Telfer.’
Baron walked in as Cain stepped aside.
Cain nodded at the contraption on Baron’s hip. ‘Be careful, we’ve a live one here. First chance she gets she might go for your eyes. Maybe you should zap her first.’
Baron’s unclipped his Taser.
Despite what he’d just said, Cain did prefer it that Jennifer stayed alive. But her dig concerning Joe Hunter had stung. He couldn’t cut off her face – yet – but he could still punish her. That’ll teach her for insinuating I’m a coward, he thought as the room filled with an electrical crackle and corresponding scream.
Chapter 38
A fast flight took us to Langley Air Force Base, just north of the city of Hampton, Virginia. One reason for heading there was to drop off Walter so he could continue to coordinate things from the headquarters of the Air Force’s 480th Intelligence Surveillance and Reconnaissance Wing. The other was that it was a short hop for Hartlaub and me to the nearby naval base at Hampton Roads, the harbour at the mouth of the Elizabeth and James Rivers where they spilled into Chesapeake Bay. From there it would only be a short chase to catch the freighter currently cruising south past the Barrier Islands off the coast of North Carolina.
My original plan was to steal a boat and chase Cain by sea, but that held a couple of major flaws. For a start, an underpowered craft would never catch a ship going at full steam, so I would have to take something big and powerful. Something like a launch or speedboat would have been ideal for my purposes, but easily missed. The Coast Guard would be alerted and we’d be captured in no time. There was no way I wanted to hurt anyone in pursuit of their duties, so a fight with the Coast Guard wouldn’t happen. I could approach a civilian crew, tell them of my problem and throw Jennifer’s life on their mercy. But any sane person would tell me to sling my hook and immediately alert the authorities. As much as I hated to do it, I had no other recourse left to me. I had to work with a naval crew.
The sun was casting its last fingers of day over the harbour as we stood on the dock, studying the boat that sat below us. It was akin to the lifeboats I was familiar with from back home in the UK, a metal shell with inflatable cushions and a small cabin towards the front. The boat bore no insignia, which was good, because Cain had warned he’d kill Jennifer immediately he saw a naval vessel approaching.
‘We’re going to have to take the crew with us,’ I told Hartlaub as we made our way down to the boat. ‘But there’s no way they can be involved.’
‘They won’t be. They have their orders to drop us and then pull back.’
‘That suits me fine. If we do this the way I intend, I don’t want any witnesses.’
He showed me an eye tooth. ‘Don’t worry, that also suits me fine.’
I took the lead, moved down and on to a gangplank out to the boat. Smaller craft bobbed on the dark water of the dock. Ac
ross from us was a rusting hulk that looked like it hadn’t put to sea in the last decade or two, but the backdrop was dominated by massive aircraft carriers and warships. If we failed to stop Cain, I wouldn’t put it past Walter to order one of them after him instead.
There were only two crew members on board, one of them a fit young guy with corn-coloured hair and freckles, and another man, of stockier build, maybe ten years older with the ruddy complexion of a seafarer. Neither was in uniform, but they still struck me as military men. The younger one had a flashlight in his hand and was crouching down at the motor, going through maintenance chores. The other was in the cabin, nose deep in paperwork. I took it that he was the commanding officer.
Maritime protocol usually requires permission for you to come aboard, but I didn’t rest on etiquette. With Hartlaub at my heels I stepped over the thick rubber and on to the deck. My boots thudding on planks brought the older man’s head out of his papers. Dumping my backpack on one of the benches, I walked towards him, extending my hand. ‘You were expecting us?’
‘So you guys are my mysterious passengers, huh? Am I allowed to know your names?’ The older man’s eyes twinkled. He had received his orders and understood that this trip was off the record. Reading the humour behind his gaze I decided he could be trusted.
‘Hunter,’ I said shaking his hand. ‘My friend’s Hartlaub.’
‘Call me Lassiter.’ He winked.
‘Which of you is the pilot?’
‘I am,’ said the young man, as he approached with Hartlaub.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Terrence. Terrence Fletcher, sir. US Navy.’
‘Terry?’ The young man nodded back at me. ‘Drop the formalities, OK? Forget that you’re with the Navy for the next few hours.’
‘I’m not sure I can do that, sir. I’m—’
‘Getting off the boat if you don’t do as I ask,’ I finished for him.
He squinted, glanced sharply at the other man and Lassiter shot him a grin. Finally he nodded, ‘You’ve got it, sir.’
