Ursula hurriedly stepped out of range.
* * *
Kate took the ammunition clip out of the pistol, checked to make sure it contained its full complement of bullets, then shoved it back in place. Considering the swells the boat rode, she wouldn't be able to fire the weapon with much accuracy unless she was directly in front of her target. Nevertheless, it was better than nothing. She tucked the gun into the damp waistband of her pants at the small of her back and flipped her T-shirt down to cover it.
"How much time do you figure we have?" Sam called.
Kate leaned over the galley counter to peer out the porthole. The dark blue fishing boat was plowing through the swells. There was no doubt anymore that it was the Penelope. She'd thought she'd seen two figures moving around the deck at first, but now she only saw one. "Three minutes, maybe more," she replied. "They seem to be having problems making headway."
There was a metal-on-metal scraping sound. Something clanged dully from the engine compartment.
Kate moved to reposition the flashlight Sam had wedged in the opening under the steps. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Without looking he thrust his hand behind him. "Give me a cup of water. Fresh water."
She filled a cup and put it in his hand. Instead of drinking it, he poured it over the battery.
"I need to clean the leads and dry them off," he said in explanation. "It looks as if seawater got into the battery box last night and shorted the connection. That's why the battery drained."
"Is there any power left in the battery at all?"
"I'm hoping there's enough to give the engine one more try."
"Good."
He fumbled behind him for a rag. "Once the engine's going and we have time to recharge, we'll be able to fire up the radio and call in the fleet."
"But if the electronics were damaged by the lightning and it's not the battery that's the problem..."
"Then we're on our own." He backed out of the opening and wiped his hands on the rag. He was still bare from the waist up, but he'd exchanged the loose jogging pants he'd worn earlier for his damp jeans. "Okay. Here goes."
The engine turned over sluggishly. Kate held her breath and leaned forward, as if she could will it to work, but it went silent.
"Damn," Sam muttered. "It needs more time to dry off."
Kate went to the porthole. "She's still heading directly for us."
"That's good. We're in no shape to chase her."
"I'd think Chambers would try to avoid contact with another vessel. Why wouldn't she have changed course?"
"Good question. We're almost within hailing distance. How do you want to play it?"
"Maintain our cover as vacationing tourists. Stall for time until we can start the engine and try the radio."
"Sounds like a plan." He stood up and grabbed the top of the companionway, his arms bent as he prepared to haul himself out of the cabin. He paused, then looked at her over his shoulder. "Kate?"
"Yes?"
"I don't suppose it would do any good if I ordered you to stay belowdecks."
"Why? Do you think I won't be able to do my job?"
"There isn't another officer I'd rather have at my back at a time like this. It's the woman I want to keep safe."
How could she have chaffed at his protectiveness in the past? She understood his urge to keep her safe—she wanted to do the same for him. "You'd better not try and order me, Coburn. We never did decide who's captaining this sloop, so you don't outrank me."
"Kate..."
"Besides, we're still partners, remember?"
He continued to regard her. He wasn't smiling. "I'll keep that in mind."
She followed Sam onto the deck. The Penelope was close enough for her to see a figure standing on the flying bridge above the fishing boat's cabin. It was a bearded man. He was a stranger to her, and yet... "Sam, he looks familiar."
"Thurlow said the man who took the boat with Chambers had a beard."
"I think I've seen this man before, but I can't place him."
"Whoever he is, he looks sick," Sam muttered.
The man lifted a hand in greeting.
Sam waved back. "Ahoy!" he shouted.
"Do you need assistance?" the man yelled.
Kate pressed close to Sam's side. "This has to be a ploy," she said quickly. "Chambers wouldn't want to help anyone."
"Yeah." He slid his arm around her. "What do you want to do?"
"Let's play along, keep stalling."
"Right." He cupped one hand around his mouth. "We're all right except we lost our mast," he called.
"I saw that." The man slowed the boat as he brought it closer. He reversed the engine, then held it steady twenty yards off the port bow. "Is your engine working?"
"The engine's fine," Sam replied.
"Good, good." He paused. He glanced down for a moment, then coughed and called, "What about fuel? Do you have enough?"
"Sure."
"Diesel?"
Why would it matter what kind of fuel they carried? Kate wondered. Unless... "Sam, that's what they're after," she said quietly.
He tightened his arm around her to indicate he'd heard. "Yes, diesel," he called.
The man glanced down again before he spoke, as if he were looking for advice. "Can you spare us a few gallons so we can make it to port? I'll pay whatever you ask."
Had he realized he'd said us? Kate wondered. Or didn't he care whether they knew there was someone else on board? "She's there with him," Kate whispered. "She has to be."
"Looks like you need a pump, too," Sam called.
"Yes."
"The sea's too rough to come alongside. I don't want to risk a collision. I'll lower the dinghy."
The man started to nod when his shoulders heaved suddenly as the boat rolled over the top of a swell. He spun, clamping his hand to his mouth.
"Poor bastard's seasick," Sam said, dipping his head toward Kate. "He wouldn't be hard to overpower."
"What are you thinking?"
"This is perfect. If I could get on that boat, I could apprehend Chambers."
"It's too dangerous," she said immediately. "Chambers will be watching the dinghy and be ready for you."
"Who says I'll be using the dinghy?"
Kate studied him. His jaw was set. His eyes gleamed with anticipation. It was the same expression she'd seen when he'd jumped from the helicopter and when he'd dived in the cavern.
Damn him, she thought. She even loved his recklessness.
"I think Chambers has to be concealed on the bridge," Sam continued. "Looks like her friend has been taking orders from her."
"That's what I thought, but—"
"As long as you keep them distracted, I can take them off guard. Tell him I'm finding an extra pump or filling fuel cans."
"Sam—"
"We don't know whether the fleet got back in place after the storm, Kate. There might be no one else in the vicinity to catch up to Chambers and her friend."
"If they're low on fuel—"
"They could still disappear. We can't let her get past us."
She knew that. She had to put her worry aside and have faith in Sam. "For God's sake, be careful. You know what that woman is capable of."
"No problem. She doesn't know what I'm capable of."
"Take the gun. I've got it behind my back."
"No, you keep it."
"Sam—"
"You can give me cover fire if I need it."
"But—"
"Wish me luck, partner." He gave her a swift kiss and slipped to the other side of the cabin.
Sam steeled himself to ignore the shock of cold as he lowered himself into the water. He heard Kate call to the man on the Penelope, something about having to locate a spare fuel can, and he smiled tightly in satisfaction. He'd meant what he'd said—she was a good officer to have at his back. But every protective instinct in him wished her post was a bit farther away.
Flattening his palms against the hull, he rode
the swells with the boat as he moved toward the stern. He breathed deeply to saturate his blood with oxygen. Even though Kate would do her best to distract attention, Sam intended to cover the distance between the two boats underwater. He checked the position of the sun relative to the boats to fix his bearings, then pushed off from the hull and submerged.
The silence was startling, as it always was on a dive. He kicked downward to propel himself beneath the rolling surface, and the pressure of the sea turned him weightless. He'd done countless dives on countless missions, so he didn't doubt his ability. Only this mission was different because it wasn't his team who depended on him, it was Kate.
She'd been correct in her reasoning that Chambers and her accomplice needed fuel. But Sam was sure Chambers wouldn't want to leave witnesses. That's why Sam wanted Kate to keep the gun. Chambers had killed the king's nephew and her own sister. She had nothing to lose.
Simply because Sam hadn't seen Chambers yet didn't mean that she wasn't there. He'd been studying the body language of her accomplice, and it wasn't only seasickness that was making the man sweat. He was scared.
Which should make what Sam had to do that much easier. He saw the dark shape materialize in the distance and swam toward it. By the time the hull of the fishing boat loomed overhead his lungs were aching for air, but he continued to the far side of the boat, taking care to keep clear of the propeller. Although the sound of the idling engine and the waves would mask any splashing, he took care to surface quietly. He resisted the urge to gasp. Instead, he filled his lungs in slow, steady inhalations, keeping as close to the hull as possible.
Sam heard voices overhead, a man's and a woman's, confirming his assumption that the bearded man wasn't alone. They were speaking low so the sound wouldn't carry across the water. Sam had to strain to make out what they were saying.
"That's disgusting, Edwardo. Can't you throw up somewhere else? I have to sit on this floor."
"I need to keep the boat steady but I want to stay where I can see that sloop. I don't trust them."
"You're being paranoid. Didn't you take a good look at them? They're just a pair of dumb tourists."
"Then where's the man?"
"That beach boy's filling the gas cans, just like his girlfriend said. They want to help."
"He could be using the radio and—"
"Once we get their gas we'll be long gone. They're not going to be telling anybody anything."
"What do you mean? I didn't agree—"
"Like I said, leave the thinking to me." The boat rocked on a wave. "Edwardo, watch out! These are my last pair of shoes."
There was a retching sound. Sam felt a twinge of sympathy for the man's discomfort, but then he heard the sound of heavy footsteps on the deck and he wiped all other thoughts out of his mind. The man called Edwardo must have descended from the flying bridge. This was Sam's chance.
He craned his neck, assessing potential handholds and judging the distance to the gunwale. He kicked hard to propel himself as far as possible out of the water, caught the edge of a scupper with his fingertips and hoisted himself over the side of the boat.
He came down practically on top of Edwardo. The element of surprise was definitely in Sam's favor. The man had no time for more than a strangled curse before Sam administered a swift knuckle jab to his solar plexus.
Edwardo crumpled to the deck unconscious. Sam patted him down to check for weapons, all the while watching for any sign of movement from the bridge where he deduced Chambers was hiding. He moved to the base of the steps and flattened himself against the cabin, only then sparing a quick glance across the water.
The gap between the two boats was widening. Kate was at the stern, her attention apparently focused on unlashing the dinghy, but he knew she'd seen what had happened. He could tell by the stiff set of her shoulders and the way she was keeping her right hand free near her side.
"Edwardo?" a voice whispered. "Where are you? The boat's drifting. You have to get back up here."
Sam settled his weight on the balls of his feet, his gaze riveted to the top of the stairs.
"Edwardo?" The voice spoke again, growing nearer. The crown of a dark head appeared above him. "What... oh, get up, you idiot. You're not that sick."
Chambers was some piece of work, Sam thought. The sooner she was in custody, the better. He leaped up the stairs to the bridge, hoping surprise would work as well with her as it did with her accomplice.
It did. The woman screamed and scrambled backward.
Sam had seen Ursula Chambers's photo. He'd read every detail about her background and her actions that he could get his hands on. He thought he'd known what to expect. But the woman who was crouching on the floor beside the wheel was like a poor artist's caricature of someone once considered beautiful.
The hair that had been blond, her flowing, shoulder-length, trademark locks, was now a dull black. It hung in limp tangles to her chin. The features that had looked so striking in her photograph were pinched with fatigue and impatience. Dark, puffy circles marred the skin beneath her eyes, and her full lips were colorless and pressed thin.
All these details Sam registered in an instant. Yet Chambers's loss of beauty couldn't be attributed to her ragged appearance. Her looks had been a shell. It was the character of the woman inside the shell that now shone through.
And within the blue gaze that was directed at him, Sam glimpsed pure evil.
"Ursula Chambers," he said. "As an officer in the United States Navy under King Marcus's command, I'm placing you under arrest."
There was a flicker of defiance on her face. "Who are you? How did you get here? What—"
"I'm placing you under arrest," he repeated.
She didn't move. Defiance changed instantly to calculation. From her crouch she studied him, her gaze traveling up and down his body in a perusal that made Sam's flesh crawl. "There's some mistake," she said. "I'm not—"
"Ma'am, I'm wet, I'm tired and I'm not in the mood for games. Please stand up and move away from the wheel."
She tossed her hair with a flick of her head and held out her hand toward him. "I hurt my ankle in the storm. I can't stand up."
He looked down. She wore skintight black pants that ended at the base of her calves. Her feet were squeezed into narrow open-back shoes. There was no sign of discoloration or swelling on her ankles, so she was probably lying. He crossed his arms. "Then slide away from the wheel."
She looked down. There was a puddle of bile near her feet, likely the result of her friend's last bout of nausea. She lifted her shoulders and shuddered. It appeared she was deliberately making her breasts jiggle under her sweater. "Please. I can't. Couldn't you help me?"
It would be so much simpler if he could knock Chambers out, Sam thought, but he'd never yet struck a woman. He would have to get something to tie her up with. He glanced around.
In the next instant, the boat surged forward. Sam staggered to regain his balance, whipping his gaze to Chambers.
She was on her feet, one hand on the throttle lever, the other holding a speargun.
He lunged at Chambers, but his foot came down on something slippery. Pain exploded in his chest, sending Sam tumbling backward down the steps to the deck.
Chapter 15
It was a nightmare. Not a dream produced by her guilt and memories but a real, living nightmare. As if in slow motion, Kate watched Sam arch backward through the air and fall to the deck. A gleaming metal shaft projected obscenely from his chest.
She wanted to scream and cover her eyes. She wanted to tell herself it wasn't really happening. But it was. Ursula Chambers had just shot Sam. And Kate was the only one who could help him. She whipped the pistol from her waistband and sighted on the black-haired female who stood on the Penelope's bridge, but the boat was pitching too badly. If Kate fired and missed, she might hit Sam.
She raced for the cockpit. Willing her fingers to stop trembling, she hit the starter button for the engine. "Oh, please. Please start."
&nbs
p; There was a slow cranking noise, then nothing.
"No," she shouted. "No!"
At Kate's cry, Chambers looked toward her. She was fumbling for something out of sight on the bridge. A moment later, she straightened with another thin metal shaft in her hand.
Kate had thought she'd known what fear was. Less than a day ago, she had faced drowning. But that was nothing compared to the terror she knew now. Sam was hurt. He wasn't moving. And he was at the mercy of a murderer with a speargun.
She pushed the starter again. "Come on, come on," she said. "Start, you piece of sh—"
This time the engine caught. It coughed and sputtered twice before it settled into a steady chug. Kate opened the throttle, spun the wheel and pointed the bow straight at the other boat.
The wind gusted, sending ripples of spray into the hull. Chambers tossed her hair from her eyes and fumbled to fit the second spear into the gun.
Kate rocked on her feet, urging the sloop forward, but the auxiliary engine wasn't meant for speed. The twenty yards that had separated the boats stretched like twenty miles.
"Please," she murmured, her throat tight, her body shaking. "Please, don't let me be too late."
It's too late. He's gone.
She fisted her hands on the wheel and rocked faster, refusing to give in to the nightmare. No. She wasn't going to lose him.
Chambers finally managed to load the speargun. She walked to the top of the steps and pointed the weapon at Sam's motionless body.
Two yards to go. "Sam!" Kate screamed. She cut the engine and ran to the bow as two yards became two feet. "Sam, watch out!"
Chambers squeezed the trigger at the same moment the sloop rammed the fishing boat. The low-speed impact didn't cause more damage than a splintered gunwale, but it was enough to throw Chambers sideways, sending the spear whistling into the sea.
Before the sloop could recoil and drift backward, Kate climbed onto the railing and jumped to the deck of the Penelope. She scrambled to Sam's side, her heart freezing at the sight of the blood that pooled beneath him. No. Oh, God, no.
Chambers grabbed another spear from a compartment on the bridge and climbed to the deck. "You made me miss, you bitch," she said, pointing the speargun at Kate. "It's your fault that—"
Under the King's Command Page 18
