by H. L. Wegley
Yagi knelt down and checked the man’s pulse. “Brandt, next year when the Maui PD takes on the Fire Department in our annual football game, I want you at linebacker.” Yagi looked up at Lee. “Well, he’s alive…barely.” He frowned at Lee again. “Did you blindside him?”
“Close to it. I couldn’t afford to give him any warning. He was chasing Jennifer.”
Kaai and another officer approached from the direction of the main desk, hearing his words. “Brandt, are you OK? And your wife…she’s here? You know that?”
“This Iranian dude needs an ambulance,” Officer Yagi said. “What about your wife?”
“I sent Jennifer up to the fourth floor to hide while I kept these two busy. I need to go up to let her know that I’m OK.” And tell her about Katie. “If you need me, come up to room 414, Chapel Wing.”
“Brandt…” Yagi looked up at him again. “Are you sure there were only two?”
“Only two men chased Jennifer in here. That’s all either one of us has seen.”
“Kaai, you go with Brandt, just in case,” Yagi said.
Lee looked from Yagi to Kaai. “Guys, she was taken on our wedding night. I haven’t seen her since then, except when I pushed her into the elevator a few minutes ago. Can we have a few moments alone, please?”
Kaai pushed the elevator button. The door opened. “Sure. As long as I’m convinced it’s safe.” He motioned towards the elevator door.
Lee stepped inside and pushed number four, and then he shoved everything but Jennifer from his mind, everything except his fearful concern about Katie. He prayed the FBI would get to the yacht in time.
When the two exited the elevator, Lee jogged down the hallway, scanning the room numbers.
“Wait up, Brandt. I don’t want you getting into more trouble.”
He ignored Kaai and ran to room 414, positioned his face in front of the peephole, and knocked.
The door flew open and Jennifer jumped onto him, locking her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. Tears spilled from her eyes and splashed onto his neck. “We heard the shots. I was afraid that you—”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Brandt.” Kaai chuckled. “Your husband just sent one of Iranian goons to the hospital. I shot the other one. Just tell me there were only two and I’ll leave you two alone for a while.”
Jennifer’s legs slid down his body and her feet landed on the floor. “Oh. I didn’t know anyone was with you. I—” Her cheeks turned rose red.
Lee stepped inside the room and closed the door, leaving Kaai outside. “Now there isn’t anyone with me, Jenn.” He pulled her lips to his, oblivious to everything but Jennifer.
“Praise the Lord!”
He broke the kiss. “Mrs. Renner, I completely—”
“Yes, you did. But don’t stop on my account. I’ve been praying for you two every hour since last night. Don’t I deserve to see the fruits of my labor?”
He kissed her again, but Jennifer hijacked his kiss taking it to an intensity he had never before experienced.
When Jennifer slowly pulled her lips from his, she cupped his cheeks, turned his head, and looked into his eyes. “Finally, we’re all safe. There were times when I—”
“Jenn…” His heart ached as he sought words that would be less hurtful, that would soften the blow he had to deal her. Such words didn’t exist.
Jennifer’s smile faded and turned to a frown. “Lee, what’s wrong?”
He pulled her close. “They took Katie. She’s on the yacht.”
29
Franklin James scanned the blue sky littered with puffy white clouds, looking for any aircraft from Molikini to Maalaea Bay. Only one helicopter. However, the red-orange chopper had flown directly over his yacht twice in the past five minutes.
“Snake, did you tie the girl’s feet to the bedpost like I told you?”
“Yes. She won’t be rolling around looking for a weapon.”
Snake shoved the spear in a storage compartment and turned towards his boss. “You worried about the chopper?”
James rubbed his chin, and then locked gazes with his employee. “What do you make of it?”
Snake gave him a tight-lipped smile. “The Coast Guard is definitely interested in us. That’s not good. Means either our million-dollar baby survived and called the cops, or the boat with the snorkelers reported the missing girl. Either way, our time here is limited.”
How does one bait a snake? “What do you think the Coast Guard will do?” James studied Snake’s face as he waited for a reply.
“This is a hostage situation for them.” Snake shrugged. “What else can they do? They’ll bring in reinforcements and try to—what is that strategy they teach them at the FBI Academy?”
“The three Cs. Contain, control, and capture. Eventually they’ll get to capture. Which probably includes snipers.” James looked at the shore, studying it, waiting for Snake to bite.
The lean man followed his gaze. “You’re not thinking…No, no way. We’re five hundred yards out. They can’t—”
“Yes, they can. A sniper with a tactical rifle, say a modified Remington .308, can shoot your eyes out at five hundred yards. At a thousand yards, he can put five consecutive shots in a three-inch circle, such as your forehead.” James studied Snake’s face again, watching for signs that the man was swallowing the bait.
“Then we’d better stay on the port side by the blonde princess. We’d better not show ourselves on the side facing the shore.”
James smiled, not because he agreed with Snake’s assessment, but because the snake had slithered through a knothole in the chicken coop and swallowed a golf ball instead of an egg. An old farmer’s trick, but it had worked. Snake would never get out of here alive. No one on the yacht would, including the blonde princess.
But I will.
“Mr. James, wouldn’t it be better to simply hoist anchor and make a run for the South Pacific?”
“Not an option. The Coast Guard at Oahu just took delivery of their first FRC, Fast Response Cutter. They could outrun us and, with all their firepower, blow us out of the water.”
James pointed towards Maalaea. “Look. The Coast Guard is sending both of their boats. It looks like ‘contain’ is underway.”
“Mr. James,” Snake’s gaze roamed the shore, “Maybe we should all move to the port side now and stay there.”
“Go tell Mack,” James said. “I’ll join you after I talk to the captain.”
“I know someone has to take the wheel, but it’s a sniper’s paradise up there.” Snake left for the room where Mack lay resting.
When Snake disappeared from sight, James opened the storage bin by the ladder and moved a small scuba tank, mask, and fins to the front where he could quickly grab them. Then he climbed the stairs to the wheel and warned the captain about sniper fire.
The Amber Alert had created some big challenges. He would probably lose his yacht today, but Franklin James would not die on it, and he refused to spend his life in a federal penitentiary. When everyone else was on the port side, he would grab the air tank, slide into the water, and not surface until he was nearly to Big Beach. If he couldn’t steal a car there he would hijack one and drive to the airport where his Gulfstream would take him to Southeast Asia and to safety.
Granted, he would have to take off without permission. Besides being a bit dicey, that would tip off the FBI who, worst case, might scramble fighters from the base on Oahu. But, if he flew towards the southwest at maximum speed, his Gulfstream would be outside the fighter’s fuel range before they caught him. When the fighters turned for home, James would be home free.
He smiled. Great challenges cause great minds to rise to the challenge.
A few minutes later, James, Snake, and Mack gathered in the cabin next door to the girl. He noted that Mack’s neck had stopped bleeding. The man needed some stitches, but he would be OK until…”Mack, do you feel up to watching the girl? As things heat up, we’ll need someone with her all the time.”
&n
bsp; “Yeah. I can handle the girl.” Mack’s voice was weak and a little hoarse.
“I still haven’t heard your plan for getting us out of here.” Snake stared at him.
Clearly this was a challenge to his authority and ability. It was unlike Snake to question him. Perhaps James didn’t know the man as well as he thought. Perhaps he shouldn’t trust the man as much as he had. Perhaps it was another reason Snake should die on the yacht.
James smiled, trying to portray confidence to the men. “We still have a case of dynamite on board and some plastic explosives, don’t we?”
His question drew a frown from Snake. “Yes. But how will we—”
“Don’t worry, Snake. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Let me take a look outside, tweak my plan a little and then—”
“I’m not going to stay on board if this ship goes down.” Snake glared at him.
“You don’t have to. It only has to appear that way. Then we all disappear…together. All but the girl. She stays on board.” James pounded his fist into his palm. “The princess goes down with the ship.”
“But, if anything should go wrong, let’s say a sniper picks me off, and then they try to take the ship, put the girl on the deck and let them watch you kill her. Let the whole world watch you kill her.”
30
When the man called Snake grabbed Katie’s ankles, sliding one on either side of the bedpost and securing them with the restraint, she discarded all of her previous plans to escape. She now lay on her back, hands tied behind her, and her ankles secured to a leg of the bed. This called for a new plan, but in this predicament nothing she could think of seemed to work.
First, she had to free her feet, but freeing her feet required raising the corner of the bed, lifting the bedpost a few inches off the floor. That would allow her to slide the ties around her ankles under the bedpost, permitting her to roll around the room. Even if she accomplished that, it was only step one in a long, risky process that could be upstaged at any moment.
Did they tie Jenn like this? If so, she had managed to escape. But what if they tied Katie like this because Jenn had escaped? That was a depressing thought. Nevertheless, Jenn had escaped and, somehow, Katie would also.
Could she raise the bed with her back and legs? Katie slid under the bed and tried to roll onto her stomach, so she could pull her knees under her and lift. When she rolled over her legs twisted around each other, tightening the tie around the post. She discarded this approach.
How could she lift while on her back with her hands tied behind her? The answer was obvious, put her knees on the underside of the bed, instead of on the floor. It might work if she moved under the bed, and then scooted towards the post until her knees were bent upward as far as possible.
Footsteps sounded outside the room. Katie stopped. She lay still, parallel to the bed.
The door opened. A man with an ugly gash on his neck wobbled into the room.
Had Jennifer injured this man?
“I see your wrists aren’t bleeding yet.” His voice was hoarse. “Maybe our blonde princess is smarter than our million-dollar baby… or a whole lot dumber. After all, you are a blonde.” The man’s hoarse laugh sounded like he was choking. The laugh ended in a coughing spasm that sent him to a chair to recover.
Katie lay on the floor breathing rapidly through her nose. But that was becoming more difficult as her allergies turned her body against itself, narrowing all of her breathing passages.
The man stood after he had recovered. “You’re not going anywhere. But I’ll be back to check on you, so don’t get any ideas.” He glared at her. “No one’s going to kick me again,” he growled as he left the cabin.
So Jennifer had injured this man. In so doing, maybe she had made it easier for Katie to disable him.
The cigarette smoke was taking its toll on her entire breathing apparatus. She began wheezing, and that made her grow panicky again. She needed air. She needed to breathe through her mouth. She needed to calm down. She couldn’t!
The room seemed to close in on her. She thrashed on the floor as her nose became stuffy from the heavy concentration of smoky allergens.
I can’t breathe. I’m going to suffocate!
Though it seemed it might also suffocate her, Katie slid her head under the bed. She raised her head until her cheek pressed into the fabric covering the underside. She tried to rub the tape off from her mouth by twisting her head.
It didn’t work. Her breathing turned to rapid panting. Then her nose became blocked. She tried to blow it. That didn’t work.
Katie was dizzy. The room spun wildly, out of control. She ground her cheek into the underside of the bed, raised her head using all of her neck strength, and twisted violently, raking her cheek across the fabric.
Skin rasped from her cheek.
No. It was the tape ripping off from her skin. She had snagged a loose corner of the tape.
Now her vision grew gray and fuzzy, as only a small amount of air reached her lungs with each attempt to draw a breath.
Katie’s strength drained until it was nearly gone. In desperation, she cocked her head and twisted her neck one last time. The tape peeled off from half her mouth.
She lay on her back gasping, sucking the life-sustaining air of planet Earth into her lungs, and then expelling it as fast as she could through the side of her partially opened mouth.
In a few moments, the room came into focus. Adrenaline still coursed through her veins, but the panic had subsided.
Another twist of her head left the tape stuck to the underside of the bed.
She realized she couldn’t have done that on her own, especially after panicking so badly. I was so scared I didn’t even think about praying. Thank You for helping me, anyway.
The incident that should’ve left her in terror seemed, instead, to give her confidence. She wasn’t alone in her effort to escape. Katie recalled her plan to use her knees. The plan the injured man had interrupted.
She created a mental picture of how this would work to free her from the bed. Then she slid under the bed and scooted her body directly towards the post which her bound ankles straddled. As she moved closer, her knees bent upward but her feet remained flat on the floor.
When her knees reached their maximum height, she lifted them. The bed raised a couple of inches off from the floor. Unfortunately, her ankles did also.
She couldn’t work the restraints under the post to free herself from the bed unless her feet remained on the floor while the corner post raised about four inches. How could she make that happen? She sent another prayer heavenward.
Katie recalled the sit-ups the softball coach made the team do during training. Sit-ups with their knees bent.
Katie tried one and her forehead rose until it pressed hard against the underside of the bed. She tried again. Her forehead and knees together lifted the corner of the bed six inches. Katie put all her strength into the next sit up. As the bed lifted, she scooted her heels towards her rear end. Her feet slid free from the bed post.
When she relaxed from the exertion, the bedpost thumped on the floor. She prayed the noise wouldn’t attract attention.
Her relaxation made her aware of the pain coming from the back of her head. It was lying on a hard, uncomfortable object. She slid her upper body out from under the bed, swung her feet around where her head had been, and swept the object out into the light.
It appeared to be half of some ceramic container. A bowl? No, an ashtray. The broken edge looked sharp. Jennifer must have left this. Unknowingly, Jennifer had provided Katie a way of escape.
The sound of a helicopter grew loud, so loud the yacht pulsated with each wop of the rotor. There were voices outside. Someone barked out commands.
The popping of automatic weapons came from the deck. Two or three guns had fired. Then the sound of the helicopter faded. The authorities must be pressuring the people on the yacht.
She was their hostage. Katie knew what this situation meant.
This is when they drag the hostage onto the deck.
She had to hurry. How could she free her hands? First, they had to be in front of her.
Katie rolled onto her knees, extended her long, athletic arms, forced them over her rear end, and then rocked onto her back. She bent her knees to her chest and worked her hands over her feet, one foot at a time.
With her hands in front of her, she grabbed the ceramic shard, jammed it between her feet, and sawed on the wrist restraint. In a few seconds it broke.
The sound of more shots came from outside. Running feet pounded the deck. One set of feet approached her door.
Katie sawed furiously on her ankle restraints. The first one broke.
A man stopped outside her door.
She prayed it was the coughing, injured man.
“I’ll get her,” the voice hissed.
Not Snake. Please not him.
The last ankle restraint popped in two. Her right hand grabbed the broken ashtray. When she stood, an overstressed calf muscle cramped hard. She didn’t need this. Not now.
The door opened partway.
Katie shoved the heel of the cramping leg away from her body, pulling out the charley horse in the process. Her left leg launched her body towards the door.
Snake’s skinny head appeared. Its triangular shape reminded Katie of a viper. His eyes widened as Katie’s right foot delivered a crushing karate stomp, dead center on the man’s face.
His nose flattened. Blood splattered the wall beside the door. Snake grunted and hissed out the dregs of his revolting vocabulary.
Katie gasped when he lunged at her.
31
Lee stroked Jennifer’s head. His heart ached for her.
She clung to him. “Lee, they can’t have Katie. I won’t let them have Katie. I’ll—”
He lifted her chin and kissed her forehead. “Let’s pray that God and Katie won’t let them have Katie.”
“I’m on it.” Bertha Renner’s intense voice came from across the room.
“Thank you,” Jennifer said as she choked back a sob. “But I’ve got to know how Katie is.”
