Finder's Fee

by Alton Gansky

  “Where are we going to get a nail?”

  “We’re not, but we might find something similar. Start looking.”

  Judith stood and glanced around the room. The decor was plush but she saw nothing that could be used as a tool. She had to think outside her normal perceptions. Stop seeing what is and see what can be. “The bathroom.”

  Judith led the way and the two crammed themselves in the small space. Judith forced her eyes to trace the objects before her: toilet, small shower, lavatory … “The sink.”

  “What about it?”

  She reached for the rod that worked the sink’s stopper. “There’s a rod that works a device on plumbing below the sink.” She pulled it up. “It’s an old and proven system. We have a line of faucets and we worked hard to move away from this system; it’s too old-fashioned for us.”

  “Fortunately, these people haven’t caught up to you.” Luke dropped to his knees, grunting as he did. The pain on his face reminded Judith that the poor man had taken two beatings. This posture had to set every nerve on fire.

  “Let me do it.”

  “I’m already here.” He opened the cabinet. “I see the plumbing. Typical P-trap. Almost everything is plastic.”

  “PVC,” Judith said. “Can you see the plunger rod?”

  “Yeah, but it’s not a rod, it’s a strap. It won’t work. Too wide.”

  “Wait a sec. Let me think. It’s been over a year since I looked at the designs. I wanted to change everything but my advisors reminded me that below the sink everything works pretty much the same.” She closed her eyes. “Okay, what you’re seeing is the adjustment strap. It has a series of holes, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Okay, the pop-up rod attaches to the strap at the top. You might have to feel for it, but there should be a set screw that holds the rod to the strap.”

  Luke grunted. “Man, this hurts.”

  “Want me to do it?”

  “No. That would get me kicked out of the male chauvinist country club.” He groaned. “My side feels like it’s on fire … found it.”

  “You’ll have to loosen it.”

  “The head of the screw is knurled. I was … ow … afraid that it would need a screwdriver of some sort.”

  Three painful grunts later, Luke pulled his hand from beneath the counter, a screw in hand. “We got lucky. It wasn’t that tight.”

  Judith saw blood oozing from Luke’s fingers and it shredded her heart. She reached for the plunger rod behind the faucet spout. It came free easily. In her hand she held a chrome rod about six inches long.

  Helping Luke up, Judith waited for him to catch his breath and for his pain to settle. Perspiration dotted his forehead. The job might have been easy for a man not beaten into unconsciousness earlier that day.

  “I don’t know how all this is going to end, Luke, but I want you to know, you’re the bravest and noblest man I have ever met.” She kissed him on the cheek. To her surprise, he blushed.

  He pushed away from the lavatory and Judith noticed that he carried his arm across his chest. He didn’t say so, but she could see that the injured ribs had been damaged even more.

  At the door, Luke placed the blunt end of the rod beneath the pin on the top hinge. There were three hinges, smaller than those found in a home but still large enough to require a pin for setting. He paused then stepped away from the door.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I need a minute.” He looked at the door. His breathing came in gulps. A full minute passed before he spoke again. “There may be a guard on the other side of the door. We’re going to have to work quietly and be ready to fight should he come barreling in. I’d feel better if we had some kind of weapon.”

  “Like what?”

  “Cattle prod, machine gun, bazooka. I’ll take anything right now.”

  forty-four

  I don’t want to be morose but this is going to be our last chance.” Luke looked into Judith’s eyes and for a moment it seemed her insides were trying to rearrange.

  “I know.” It took a moment for her to realize it, but Judith worried more for Luke than herself.

  “There’s a good chance that by breaking out we are going to get ourselves killed.”

  Judith pursed her lips. “If we don’t get out, Pennington is going to kill us anyway. I think I’d rather die on the boat than under it.”

  Luke nodded slowly. “We don’t have much time, but maybe I should take a moment to tell you my secret. After what we’ve been through, you have a right to know.”

  Judith raised a finger and put it to his lips, silencing him with a gentle touch. “Not now. It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

  “It might. I could be a cannibalistic ax murderer.”

  “You’re not,” Judith said.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because Abel says there’s truth in you and that’s good enough for me.”

  “Okay, but this is probably the only chance you’ll have to hear it.” He stood.

  Judith placed a hand on each side of his head. He winced when she touched the knot left by Pennington but didn’t pull away. She drew him close and kissed him. Their lips touched for only a second but it seemed to Judith to contain a lifetime of pleasure and an encyclopedia of communication.

  He returned the kiss, then turned his face to the door. “I’m ready. If we manage to get out and get past the guard if there is one, we should split up.”

  “Is that wise?”

  “I don’t know how large the crew is. My guess is that it’s small. Fewer mouths mean less talking about secrets. I’m hoping that’s the case. We have two things to achieve. First, we have to signal for help and I think I know how to do that.”

  “Won’t the radio be where the people are? You’re in no condition to fight your way past them.”

  “You’re right. I’d have to subdue them; I don’t think I’m the man for that job. But I have another idea. When we were looking at the ship, I noticed what looked like a dinghy. That got me thinking. What happens if they have to abandon ship? They won’t want to be in a dinghy with an outboard motor. Not in the open ocean. I think ships this size have modern life rafts.”

  “I didn’t see a life raft.”

  “You wouldn’t. It’s probably in some large container. It would have to be easy to get to and open, as well as launch. It’s probably at the back end of the yacht. A ship this size needs a way to get passengers and crew back and forth to shore in shallow waters — that’s what the dinghy is for. Maybe they call it a tender. I don’t know. The life raft is meant to keep people alive in rough seas for several days. It must carry some electronic communications and maybe even an emergency beacon.”

  “Makes sense. So you’re planning to activate the beacon?”

  Luke shrugged. “It’s the best I can come up with. We can’t go toe-to-toe with these guys. If I can get the beacon activated then the Coast Guard will pick up the automated signal. If there’s no beacon, maybe I can use the emergency radio. There has to be some electronics on that thing. I wish I knew more about this stuff.”

  “What should I do?”

  “I’d like to disable the engines, but I don’t know if you can do that.”

  “I can try. What would I need to do?”

  Luke thought. “I’m sure they’re diesel engines. The way to kill any engine is to deprive it of fuel, air, or disrupt its electronics.”

  “Will there be someone in the engine room?” Judith tried to imagine herself creeping through a massive, oily engine room like those she’d seen in movies.

  “I doubt it. This is a superyacht but I doubt they have men stoking boilers or oiling machinery like old ships. My guess is that you’ll find a room with a couple of big diesel engines. Everything is controlled from the bridge above.”

  She bit her lip. “I’ll do what I can.”

  “I know. It’s all we can do.” Luke started to the door but Judith grabbed his elbow.

  “Do you believe what Abel
said … back in the hotel, I mean.”

  Luke looked puzzled.

  “Wait on the Lord and He will save you. Remember. He said it was in the Bible.”

  “Are you suggesting that we do nothing?”

  “No, he said waiting wasn’t doing nothing; it was doing something. I think I have that right. Abel seemed so certain about it. At first, I thought he was just quoting something he read. After all, he said there was a Bible in the room. I assumed he had been reading it, but now I’m wondering if he has more up his sleeve. He is so …”

  “Spiritual?”

  “That’s it,” Judith said. “Terri’s tried to talk to me about faith and about Jesus many times, but I keep putting her off. Now, I wished I had listened.”

  “Somehow, I think God knows.”

  “Do you really think that?”

  “I feel it as much as I think it.” He took her in his arms.

  “Can we pray?” she asked.

  “I don’t know how.”

  Judith stopped fighting the tears. “Me either, but I feel the need to try.”

  She felt his head touch hers. “Okay.”

  To Judith’s surprise, the hinge pins came out easily. Maybe because the doors were thinner than those in a home, maybe because the superyacht was well taken care of; whatever the reason, Luke had been able to use the metal rod pulled from the sink to push the pins free of the hinges.

  After setting the pins aside, Luke pressed the rod into the space between the jamb and the edge of the door and used it as a lever to pry the door free on one side. The door fit snugly and Luke had to work the rod several times to get the hinge side free. With his right hand on the doorknob he quietly pulled the door free and set it aside.

  Judith could see beads of sweat on the back of Luke’s neck. She didn’t know if it was from the work or from fear or pain. In the end, it didn’t matter. She stepped close to him as he peeked into the corridor that ran by the door. The passageway ran two-thirds of the length of the cabin deck. When they had descended from the salon above, they first entered a smaller salon similar to the one above but more intimate. The rest of the deck had staterooms on either side of the corridor.

  “No guard,” Luke said. “Of course, where can we run? I don’t think they consider us a problem any longer.”

  “Let’s prove them wrong.”

  Luke stepped from the room and Judith followed. She looked up and down the passageway and wondered which room or rooms the children were in. It was a question she’d have to answer later — if there were a later.

  Judith followed Luke who came to an abrupt stop at the foot of the stairs that led to the salon above. He tilted his head as if straining his ears to hear a distant sound. Then he looked up the circular stairway. He motioned for her to go around him and the steps, to the other side of the stairs, which led to the lower deck.

  The time had come to part company. She took his hand and gave it a squeeze, inhaled a bushel of air, and moved.

  Luke tiptoed up the steps, fearing several of the crew might be waiting for him in the salon. If such was the case, then his plan was dead before it had a chance to live. Slowly he slipped up the steps. He heard no voices; heard no movement. Fighting fear that made his hands shake and acid boil in his stomach, he emerged, his eyes looking for any movement. He saw none.

  Where is everyone?

  He looked through the open doors of the salon and at the stern deck. Lounge chairs sat empty waiting for passengers who would never come. This wasn’t a pleasure cruise. He doubted there would be much sunbathing going on.

  A voice trickled into his ears. He tensed. It came from above. While studying the yacht from the pier he had seen a superstructure he took for the bridge. He listened carefully. There wasn’t much conversation but enough for Luke to guess that at least two people were manning the controls. Most likely one was Pennington and the other one of the two who had captured him and Judith.

  Returning his gaze to the deck again, he easily identified the dinghy, a rigid hull inflatable. He doubted that had what he needed. He had to find where the life raft would be stowed. The superyacht looked like it could hold twenty plus people. Did they make rafts that large? Would there be more than one emergency raft?

  Something caught his attention. To either side of the deck were white, rounded fiberglass containers that reminded Luke of fuel tanks. But they couldn’t be fuel tanks — not on the main deck. He moved closer and his mind raced with hope. Each had writing on it and a nylon strap encircled the capsule -shaped containers. EMERGENCY FLOTATION. The words looked painted in gold to Luke. All he had to do was open the large canister and find the emergency beacon. That required stepping into view.

  There was no other way.

  He slipped through the doors and looked up at the bridge. He saw no one but knew at least two men were there. He couldn’t turn back. The odds of his success were miniscule but they were the only odds he had.

  The strap, a two-inch wide nylon belt with a metal clasp like those used on seat belts decades ago, came off easily. He set it down at his feet. The container had two handles locking the top half to the bottom. Releasing them he pried open the top and peered inside. He couldn’t make sense of what he saw. Maybe if he had thrown back the lid he could better see the folded mess of what looked like canvas, rubber, and other materials. He did find something else: a rectangular nylon bag with strap handles. Printed on the side were the words “Abandon Ship Bag.”

  He removed it, lowered the lid, picked up the strap, and eased his way back into the salon. He had an idea and glanced around the room. On the inboard side was a bulkhead with a narrow door. A man/woman symbol told him it was the room he was hoping to find. A few moments later, Luke had locked himself in the head.

  Setting the bag on the small sink he pulled open the zipper that kept the contents inside. The bag opened into two parts with pockets. Some things he recognized easily: flashlight, signal mirror, can opener, whistle, extra batteries, something that looked like a collapsible drinking cup, patches he assumed could be used to repair the inflatable part of the raft, and a few items that were foreign to him. He also found a yellow electronic device with an antenna. Printed on the front was a brand name and EPIRB in large letters.

  EPIRB?

  He turned it over and read. “Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon.”

  “Bingo,” he whispered. He found the switch and turned it on. A light on the case began to strobe. Luke set the device down. Something else had captured his attention: three orange-topped cylinders marked “Smoke Signals — 1 Minute.” He slipped them in his pocket. He allowed himself a moment’s hope, a hope that melted when Luke heard the rumble of the engine increase and felt the yacht gain speed.

  They were headed for open water.

  forty-five

  Judith moved down the stairs, forcing herself to take careful steps. In an ironic emotional turn, she felt the urge to throw caution out and simply run to the engine room for all she was worth. Instead, she ignored her emotion and fear-fueled desire and moved as smoothly and quietly as possible.

  She had no idea where she was going. She followed instinct and some bit of logic that said the engine room would be in the back of the boat. After all, wouldn’t a designer want to put the engines near the propellers? It made sense to her. To her surprise, she found it faster than expected. Someone had even provided a nice sign that read ENGINE ROOM; probably to keep passengers from entering.

  Luke filled her mind. In one sense, he was close, just two decks above; in another sense, he was miles away. Everything he said made sense. Splitting up was the right thing to do but she didn’t like it. If she was going to die today, she’d rather not do it alone and down here.

  “Please, God. Let the room be empty.” She turned the doorknob and it twisted easily. She stepped in. Alone. Two large engines filled the small space, one on either side of a metal grate walkway that ran between the noisy behemoths. Closing the door behind her, Judith moved along the me
tal walk uncertain what to do next. She could feel the steady vibration of the engines through her feet. An aluminum safety rail separated her from the mechanics. She could easily reach over it and assumed they were there to keep a workman from falling from the deck into the rolling seas.

  “Now what?” she said, but the noise made it impossible to hear herself. What had Luke said? A person could stop an engine by depriving it of fuel, electricity, or air. She assumed by electricity he meant something like spark plugs. No, diesels didn’t have spark plugs. She heard that somewhere. Nonetheless, they had to have some kind of circuit to run. For the first time in her life, she wished she was a mechanic rather than an interior designer.

  She continued to study the stupefying mess of hoses, metal lines, and wires having no idea what any of them did. “This is hopeless.”

  Something moved.

  The engines rumbled louder and Judith felt herself leaning against the acceleration. They were speeding up and she knew that couldn’t be good. They must have left the bay.

  What had moved? A wire. A thick wire — cable might be a better word. It moved and the speed changed. A throttle cable? She studied the cable and the L-shaped metal bracket it was attached to. The cable emerged from a protective sheath and attached to one end of the L-bracket, the other end was attached to a thick spring. They push a lever upstairs, a cable gets pulled down here, and more fuel is sent to the engine. Cut the cable and the spring pulls the L-thingy shut. Maybe. It’s a place to start.

  Easy in concept but how could she cut the cable? And if she couldn’t do that, how could she disconnect it? Cutting was preferable; it would take longer to fix. “There’s got to be a toolbox. No one spends millions on a boat like this and not put a few tools on it.”

  She found a large red metal tool chest at the back of the room. It was bolted to the deck and bulkhead. It had a dozen drawers. She pulled on one but it didn’t open. Locked. No. She fingered the drawer pull again and jiggled it. Nothing. She pushed it in and then pulled and the drawer slid open easily. I guess it’s not good to have drawers of tools opening by themselves in rough seas.