Storm Surge: A Fast Paced International Adventure Thriller (Storm Thriller Series Book 3)

by Steven Becker

  Mako pointed to the left, past the church. If they wanted to check the door they would need to avoid the windows. Six inches shorter and probably way more limber than he was, Saba lowered herself and duck-walked past the windows. She passed the door and continued another ten feet to the end of the building.

  Mako followed, though not as gracefully. When they were both past the building, they turned. “It’s too risky to look inside,” Mako said.

  “You can’t see inside the part of the chapel where we stashed the journal, anyway.”

  “Guess we wait ’em out,” Mako said.

  “It’s the best option we’ve got. Why don’t you have John bring the car around? At least we can be comfortable,” Saba said.

  The only thing that changed over the next few hours was that John got grumpier. It was his typical old-man state of affairs, only exacerbated by the gunshot wound. Mako had been shot twice before, both to areas thick with muscle. There would be no lasting damage, but he knew his dad would hurt like all hell for the next few days.

  “I can’t take this anymore. I’m going out to get him some pain meds,” Saba said, pointing to the reflection of a green cross in a window down the block.

  There was little to debate, and they agreed that she would be okay to go alone. Mako and John were relieved to be free of her for a few minutes. As soon as the door closed, Mako started questioning his dad.

  John quickly recounted the story of how he and Faith met outside the police station in Rome, that he knew Faith’s father well, and, in his opinion, she could be trusted.

  “Don’t know if she can shoot, but she handled herself better than most when bullets were flying,” he finished the summary.

  “You know I’m sitting right here, right?” she said.

  The two Storms gave each other a look that was almost a grin.

  Saba returned carrying a larger bag than a bottle of pills required.

  John popped the lock just as Saba was about to knock on the glass. Saba opened the door, slid into the seat and passed drinks and snacks around. Lastly, she handed John a bottle of pills.

  He held the bottle close to his face. “This is the real McCoy here.” He struggled with the childproof lid for a long second before opening the bottle. He dispensed two, then paused and waited for a third to slide onto his hand before popping them into his mouth and chasing them down with the bottle of water Saba had brought.

  “He said to take only two, and that’s if the pain is really bad.”

  “I can read,” John snapped.

  Mako supported his decision to overmedicate if it would take the edge off his mood.

  “Sorry. I appreciate you getting them for me.” John paused. “I’ve kind of built up a tolerance over the years. I’ll be fine.”

  Mako wondered how Saba had walked into a farmacia without a prescription and emerged with narcotics, then realized her Interpol credentials had probably done the trick. Studying her face, he wondered if she also might have used the interlude to call for backup.

  They sat silently for the next hour. It was getting close to midnight, and they watched as one at a time, like dominos falling in slow motion, the lights in the stores and cafes went out. By one a.m., the street was deserted. The only illumination came from several streetlights and the light bleeding through the windows of the church.

  “Was there another exit? I just remember the front and side doors,” Mako asked.

  There was a long pause.

  “Dad?” Mako leaned forward, expecting an answer. John Storm was meticulous about noting those kinds of things. John’s head bobbed and Mako realized he was asleep.

  “I’m going to take a walk.” Mako had been cooped up long enough.

  “I’m going with you. If anyone’s looking, a couple walking will seem more normal than a single man,” Saba said.

  “You okay with dear old dad?” Mako asked Faith.

  She nodded, and leaned over and tilted John’s head back against the seat. “Yeah, we’re good.”

  Mako and Saba crossed the street. He looked back at Faith, and could see her face illuminated by her cell phone. Both he and Saba knew better than to allow it, and he regretted not being thorough with stake-out procedures. The light from the phone would act like a beacon to anyone looking.

  He was about to go back and tell her when something creaked, breaking the silence. Their heads turned toward the door. It was the unmistakable sound of a rusty hinge. The small island that held the church was not a good climate for metal. They were only feet away from the door when it cracked open, spilling a narrow stream of light onto the street. It was quickly extinguished. Mako and Saba hugged the wall, using whatever skills they had acquired over the years to stay invisible.

  Mako could tell from the bishop’s height that he came out first. Burga, following close behind, closed the door, and scanned the street. She looked to each side, and then forward, but not behind her. Mako glanced across to the SUV, which would have looked vacant if not for the light from Faith’s phone. It was out of place enough to attract Burga’s interest. Whispering something to Maldonado, she pulled out her pistol, and crossed the street.

  Burga was on her before Faith realized anything was amiss. Her inexperience had shown with the use of her phone, also making Mako wonder if the car doors were locked. He didn’t recall hearing them click when he and Saba had left, but Faith could have done it any time after.

  The answer was evident when Burga opened the driver’s-side back door and slid in. Faith had lifted her head. The phone illuminated the interior of the SUV enough for Mako to see the gun trained on her. Burga called for Maldonado. In several long strides he crossed the street and entered the car through the passenger rear door. A minute later John’s head jerked up and the car was rolling.

  41

  Key Largo, Florida

  Alicia could feel the heat of the flames on her face and knew they only had another few minutes before the fire compromised the hull and the boat sank. She looked at TJ, who was also desperately looking for a path through the flames, and Jen, who remained stoic. Alicia could tell from the reflection of the flames in their eyes that they were as scared as she was.

  “What would Trufante do?” she said out loud, looking around for a knife or anything else that might cut their restraints. Her eyes found the dive tanks. The gear had been switched over to fresh tanks, but it sat across the deck with a line of flames blocking the way. She didn’t know how to reach it without injuring themselves. Feeling the roughness of the rope around her wrists, she couldn’t figure a way, even if they could cross the deck without being burned, to get into the water.

  One way or another, the ocean was going to save them or kill them.

  “We have to get in the water,” she called over the crackling flames.

  “Goddamn, I liked this boat,” TJ howled. It had been totally refitted after his adventure with Mac Travis.

  “We have to get in the water,” Alicia repeated. It was her mantra, and she repeated it over and over to herself. Her intermittent yoga practice had given her enough flexibility and balance to allow her to get to her feet. Standing right next to the gunwale, she could easily roll over into the water, but what then?

  A loud crack from inside the hull told her that time was running out. She felt the flames on her face, the fire hot enough to singe her hair.

  “Let’s just get to the tanks. We’ll figure out part two from there,” Jen said.

  Her and Jen’s tanks were side-by-side, strapped to the port-side gunwale with bungee cords. Hoping her dive booties would protect her feet, Alicia started hopping across the deck. Flames danced around her and she gagged on the smell of burning hair as she braved the flames. Alicia made it first, with Jen right behind, looking like Medusa with tiny specks of flame burning the tips of her long hair. TJ was last. Just as he reached the area engulfed in flames came another crack and he dropped, looking as if he had been cut off at the knees. The extra hundred pounds he carried had caved in a compromis
ed section of the deck.

  Alicia was by his side in seconds as he struggled to extricate himself. It was no use. It was as if he were stuck in quicksand; his movements weakened the deck further and, instead of releasing him, it started to engulf him more. Alicia’s efforts seemed futile.

  If they escaped this, she needed to pump some iron and he needed to lose some weight. First, they had to get past the “if.”

  A figure broke the wall of flames, and Alicia saw Jen approaching with the end of the coil of hemp rope dangling behind her. Alicia knew what they had to do, but with their hands restrained she had no idea how. Something Trufante had said about her tendency to make things harder than they were came to mind, and the answer came to her.

  “Put that end through the rope around his hands.” She moved to Jen and awkwardly took the end of the line. Backing up to TJ, she dropped the line between TJ’s body and his restraints, then squatted down and picked up the end. Grasping both sections in her bound hands, Alicia reluctantly backed away, knowing that if she dropped one, TJ was lost.

  Alicia knew that the ocean was their only chance. Flames had spread across the deck, inching close enough that they started to lick the base of the cabin and flybridge structure. The stink of burnt fiberglass permeated the air, making Alicia’s eyes water. The ball cap she had been wearing protected some of her hair, the rest had been singed. She heard a splash and realized Jen was gone. Turning back to TJ, their eyes met, the panic clear. He yelled something across to her, but his words were sucked into the flames.

  “Go!” TJ’s plea finally reached her.

  Alicia was glued to the deck, paralyzed by indecision. “What would Trufante do?” she asked herself again.

  A woman’s voice called out from the water. Turning toward it, she saw Jen’s dripping-wet head bobbing in the waves.

  “Help!” Jen called out, handing a metal cylinder to Alicia. She fumbled with the pin, finally realizing she didn’t have the dexterity with her hands bound to operate the fire extinguisher.

  “I need you. It’s going to take both of us to set this baby off.” Alicia set the cylinder on the deck and reached backwards over the gunwale, hoping the unbalanced position didn’t send her into the water, and helped Jen back aboard.

  Alicia realized that Jen had braved the flames, and grabbed the fire extinguisher from the side of the flybridge. Unable to recross the deck, she had dived overboard, and swam around to Alicia, all the while holding the heavy cylinder behind her back.

  They would need a little luck, Alicia thought, but it was the best, and only, idea they had going. Standing back-to-back, Alicia pulled the pin and together they depressed the lever, while Jen tried to aim the nozzle. The first blast soared over the gunwale. On the next several attempts the two women danced around the deck, trying to focus the spray on the area around TJ.

  Slowly the flames surrounding him were extinguished, and the empty canister dropped to the deck. The fire in the cockpit had been partially extinguished, buying back a few precious moments, but flames continued to creep up the cabin.

  The two women scanned the deck and surrounding water.

  “We’ll never get him over the side,” Jen said.

  A third loud crack startled her, and Alicia watched as flames reappeared in the extinguished areas. Alicia looked around for something to cut their bonds. Every edge she saw was rounded to prevent injury in rolling seas. The cabin had some old kitchen knives, but it was impassable now.

  She felt the heat of the flames intensify. Fire shot up the sides of the boat, engulfing the cabin and flybridge. Like the finale of a fireworks show, the Bimini shade cover flared like a torch.

  There was nothing to do but abandon ship, and hope the EPIRB placed in a cradle inside the cabin hadn’t been destroyed by the flames. The device would activate if the boat sank, and automatically alert the Coast Guard of their position.

  Remembering the life raft strapped to the foredeck, Alicia tried to make her way to the skinny passageway between the cabin and gunwale. She had to turn back. Everything in front of her was engulfed in flames.

  The respite the fire extinguisher had bought was gone.

  “The tanks!”

  Jen understood and moved toward one of the two tanks with their BCs and regulators attached. Sitting on the bench in front of it, she struggled to figure out how to get into it. Under normal circumstances the diver slid their arms through the vest and buckled the cummerbund. Jen struggled to stick her bound hands backwards through one arm hole. Giving up her attempt to wear the equipment, she stood, looked over her shoulder, and reached behind her back for the inflator hose.

  Alicia immediately saw what she was trying to do. If they could inflate the BCs and toss the gear over the side, they might be able to swim toward them. The inflated vests would be more than adequate flotation devices. It was an awkward maneuver, but they managed to get two tanks over the side.

  A third for TJ would have been ideal, but there had been only four divers and the saboteurs had taken two of the rigs. The fire had breached the cabin door, consuming the interior of the cabin, where the rental gear was stored. Alicia turned back to TJ. The fire extinguisher’s magic had worn off and flames were closing in on him. It was time to go, but first they had to free him.

  She turned toward him, but the deck cracked again, making the decision for them. It would have been difficult to pull him out before. Now, waist deep in fiberglass, there was no way. As she watched him struggle, a solution came to her.

  Alicia glanced over at Jen. “Go over and grab the tanks. I’ve got one more thing to try and I’ll be right with you.”

  Jen gave her a worried look. “What about TJ, we can’t leave him!”

  “I’ve got an idea. Now go.” Alicia watched Jen move onto the dive platform and jump in feet first. She didn’t have time to wait for her to surface. If she didn’t, there was little Alicia could do about it.

  With her hands still bound behind her back, Alicia’s feet were her only tool. Fortunately, she had on her dive booties. The five-mil neoprene was still damp from the first dive and offered surprising protection as she crossed the flaming deck to where TJ was stuck.

  Though she didn’t have much field experience, as a teen Alicia had trained in the martial arts. Along with the mandatory piano lessons, her dragon mom had thought it best that her diminutive daughter be able to protect herself. At the time, Alicia had doubted that either type of training had much real-world value. She had been wrong about music, as it clearly had aided her in math and logic. The usefulness of martial arts was about to get tested as she bent her knees, breathed in, and jumped straight into the air.

  The guttural sound she instinctively made when she landed, as well as the cracks that appeared in the deck, were proof that martial arts had been good for something. She might not have been able to take out multiple attackers—or even one—but she knew how to channel her energy into a strong blow. The deck paid the price of her education several more times as she moved around TJ, jumping every few inches to weaken the deck around his girth.

  The damage she caused would make pulling him free more difficult. But that was not the direction she intended to save him. With a glance she grabbed the ends of the rope. “Hold onto the line and I’ll see ya on the other side.”

  The look on his face told her he had no idea what she was up to. With no time to explain, she leaned over and kissed him hard, told him she loved him, and bailed over the side of the boat.

  42

  Syracuse, Sicily

  Mako’s eyes followed the SUV as it turned right onto a side street just past the square. As much as he liked to think himself self-sufficient, instinctively, when he was in trouble, his go-to was Alicia, and he pulled out his phone. The call again went to voicemail. Starting to worry about her silence, he tried TJ’s number with the same result. He thought about calling Mac Travis down in Marathon. Living on an island twenty miles from the mainland, he wasn’t sure there was cell service that far out, or if T
ravis would take his call. Mac might not care much for Mako, but he knew he would help Alicia. Deciding to give it a little more time, he put the phone back in his pocket, deciding that if Alicia was still missing in the morning, he would try to reach Mac.

  When Mako looked back up, he found his eyes locked on Saba’s. They each had different motives regarding the journal, but he judged the distress on her face to be authentic.

  “We need to see if Maldonado found the journal,” he told her.

  “Agreed,” Saba said, taking a step across the street.

  Mako reached the side door right behind her and stood watch while she tried to open it.

  “Locked.”

  Mako reached into his pocket and retrieved his billfold. “I got this. Keep an eye out.”

  Saba complied. Mako found the black graphite card that contained the embossed tools of his lock-pick set. The thin pieces dropped into his hand when he pushed them out of the card, and he went to work. The age of the lock should have made it an easy operation, but the saltwater and humidity in the city had found their way into the mechanism, making it difficult to feel for and then turn the pins.

  The position of Saba’s body blocked a good deal of the light. It didn’t matter, though, picking a lock was done more by feel than sight. Mako could see the plug and that was what mattered. Finding the bottom of the keyhole with the small end of the tension wrench, he gently applied upward pressure to the tumbler. Then, he inserted the rake, a two-inch-long tool with peaks and valleys. With a back and forth sawing motion, he pushed the pins above the shear line. The rust made it harder than usual, but within a minute the handle turned and they were inside.

  A flashing red light caught their eyes. “Alarm.”

  Saba pushed him aside. “I got this one.”

  Mako held his phone up, letting the screen illuminate the keypad. Saba worked her fingers around the device, found the release and opened the cover. With only seconds before the alarm activated, she unceremoniously pulled out the circuit board.