Running Dark

by Jamie Freveletti

  Her eyes widened at the sight of him.

  He thrust the bottle at her. “Can you open this?”

  She nodded and stepped inside. He closed the door, throwing the dead bolts before waving her into the kitchen. Stromeyer had the bottle open by the time they got there. She didn’t say a word, and he was too busy clenching his teeth against the pain to engage in any conversation. She shook out two pills, took another look at him, and shook out two more. She filled a glass with water and handed it all to him. He downed them in one gulp and put the glass in the sink before extracting a Ziploc bag from a nearby drawer. He filled it with ice, wrapped it in a thin dishcloth, and placed it on the counter. Now came the hard part.

  “Can you help me take off the jacket? I got hit in the shoulder.”

  She sucked in her breath. “The bad one?”

  “Yes.”

  Stromeyer took off her own coat, threw it over the back of a nearby chair, and stepped toward him. She peeled the leather back from his chest in a careful motion. At the left shoulder, she took care to raise the fabric enough that she could hold it open while he eased his arm out. Every move, no matter how subtle, sent fresh waves of pain through him.

  “The shirt, too,” he said.

  She unbuttoned his shirt and repeated the careful motion. They both gasped at what was revealed. The spiked brass knuckles had left deep indentations on the tip of his shoulder. Several purple swellings were set in a precise row where the spikes had punctured the flesh. The whole mess was a mottled red heading to black. He went over to the counter to retrieve the ice.

  “You’d better wait to put that on until after you’re lying flat.” Stromeyer sounded matter-of-fact, but when he looked at her, he could see strain around her eyes.

  “Afraid I’ll faint?” Banner said.

  “Yes.”

  He nodded. “You may be right.” He turned to go.

  “Let me wipe the blood off your face first,” she said.

  “I’ll lie down. You can do it then.”

  He made it to the bedroom and sat on the bed. He stared at his booted feet. He didn’t think he had the energy to remove them. Stromeyer appeared and knelt before him. She eased off his boots, and he swung his legs onto the bed. Once he was flat, he put the ice on his naked shoulder. Just the weight of the bag made him want to shriek in pain, but he knew that if he could stick it out, the ice would work wonders.

  “Your jeans are covered in blood. Let me get them off,” Stromeyer said.

  Banner said nothing. She eased them down. Normally he would have been embarrassed to have her perform the chore for him, but he found that he didn’t really care just then. She unfolded the blanket from the foot of his bed and covered him with it.

  “I’ll keep watch and call the police. You have a gun?”

  Banner went to reach for it but decided against moving. “Under the pillow.”

  Stromeyer slid her hand beneath his head.

  “Other pillow.”

  She leaned over him to reach under the second pillow. He smelled her perfume, a happy citrus scent that seemed incongruous given the circumstances. She removed his nine-millimeter. He watched her check it.

  “I’ll hold on to this. Try to sleep.”

  Banner fell into unconsciousness. He never heard her leave.

  33

  EMMA WATCHED AS A BLACK FOUR-WHEEL-DRIVE VEHICLE OF AN indeterminate make drove out of the shrubbery lining the beach. It came toward them, its wheels churning through the sand. It pulled within five feet of the jeep and stopped. A white man swung out of it wearing khaki-colored cargo pants, a Guns N’ Roses T-shirt, and a pistol in a holder attached to his waistband.

  “What’s up, Nick?” Hassim sounded concerned.

  Nick glanced at Emma and back at Hassim without replying. He had shaggy black hair that was hacked off at his collar in a choppy fashion, as if someone had taken a knife to it rather than scissors. His skin was tanned a honey color.

  Hassim grabbed the top of the windshield, hauled himself upright, and jumped over the door. “She’s okay. She works for Banner.”

  Nick looked visibly relieved. He gave Emma a curt nod before directing his attention back to Hassim. “We’ve got a problem. Our contact, the one who promised us the boat, wants another two days. He claims he’s got something he needs to do.”

  Hassim snorted. “You know what that means. He’s got a couple of hostages that he wants to transport first.”

  “Yeah, but who? They haven’t taken a ship that I’m aware of.”

  Hassim looked thoughtful. “Last kidnapping I heard about was a Turkish freighter.”

  “That crew’s long gone. Their company paid up a month ago.”

  “Where’s he now? Or, more important, where’s the boat?”

  Nick waved back toward the beach behind him. “Anchored two miles down. I just saw it as I drove in.”

  “Anyone on it?” Hassim reached into a small area directly behind the seats. Emma watched him as he fished around under a green tarp. He withdrew an assault rifle.

  “Not that I saw.”

  Hassim checked his weapon. “Then let’s go. I’ve already paid that guy. If I let him get away with taking the money and not delivering the boat, I’ll never be dealt with straight again.” He turned to Emma. “Do you want to come?”

  She was up and over her door in a flash. “I don’t want to be left here, if that’s what you mean. Do you have a gun for me?”

  Hassim stopped in midstride. “Didn’t I just give you one?”

  “I mean a semiautomatic.”

  Nick looked amused.

  Hassim stood still. Then he shrugged in apparent resignation and headed back to the jeep. He extracted another AK-47 out from under the tarp and handed it across to Emma, over the jeep’s seats. She hefted it, feeling its weight. It appeared in fine working condition. Oiled, with a carrying strap that was relatively clean, it was set to automatic. Emma switched it to semiautomatic.

  “Sure you want to do that?” Hassim asked.

  You have no idea how sure, Emma thought. “I don’t want to autofire indiscriminately. I’m a terrible shot and likely to kill one or both of you in a bout of friendly fire. I’ve had a sum total of three lessons on how to use a gun.”

  Hassim’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “In that case by all means.”

  Nick laughed. “Glad that’s settled. Climb into the car. I’ll take you to the boat.”

  They piled the rest of the duffels and chemistry equipment into the Land Rover. When they were finished, Nick hit the gas. The car dug in even further as a result of the added weight. Emma watched sprays of sand fly out from under the wheels, but the four-wheel drive managed to propel the vehicle forward. They drove for ten minutes before coming to a dirt road cut between the palms. It led away from the beach. Nick turned onto it. Here they moved quicker, although potholes filled the road. Emma held on to a handle above the door as they bounced along. The path turned to parallel the beach. After a few minutes, it became gravel, then curved back in the direction of the ocean. When it appeared as though they’d drive straight onto the sand again, Nick took a sharp left and killed the engine.

  “The boat sits in a small cove up ahead. I think we should finish the trip on foot. We’ll need to move as quietly as possible.” Nick whispered the instructions before he carefully opened the driver’s door. Emma eased out of the car as well. She shut the door not by swinging it closed but by placing it against the side of the car and pressing it.

  Nick went first, Hassim followed, and Emma brought up the rear. Her heart took on a crazy rhythm, and beads of sweat popped out on her forehead. She did all she could to walk softly. The only sounds she heard were the crashing of the waves on shore and the cry of seagulls, but these were so loud that she was concerned they’d miss the telltale step of a prowler behind them.

  After five minutes of skulking through the trees, Emma could see the prow of a boat bobbing up and down. It was anchored ten feet from the sand’s edge. Nic
k waved them into cover. Hassim moved behind a tree. Emma followed his lead. Now she had a view of the entire vessel, and she was underwhelmed. It was a small cabin cruiser. So small, in fact, that she wouldn’t have been confident taking it out on a local lake, much less the ocean. From what she could see, there was a little cabin up front, and enough seating on each side of the open back to seat six, three on each side.

  “That’s the boat we’re taking on the ocean?” Emma said.

  Hassim turned his dark eyes on her. “It’s seaworthy. The Kaiser Franz was only about seventy-five miles out at its last known location, so we don’t have far to go.” He looked at Nick. “So we know the boat’s here. Where’s the owner?”

  At that moment two men came out of the trees, assault rifles slung over their backs. They scanned the area before waving behind them. Three Somali women emerged. All three balanced large bundles on their heads. After them came two more men with guns. They carried a large crate. Once their feet hit the sand, they staggered with its weight. The entire entourage headed to the boat.

  “They’re provisioning,” Nick said, “but I don’t see any hostages.”

  Hassim shrugged. “Maybe they’re carrying arms to the mother ship. That box looks heavy enough. Whatever they’re doing, they’re not taking my boat. Let’s make a circle around and check out the road they used. I’ll bet Ali’s there.”

  Nick gave Hassim an incredulous look. “You’re using Ali?”

  Hassim nodded. “Why does that surprise you?”

  “Ali always delivers. He’s the most reliable thief in Puntland. He’d never leave you high and dry if he could help it. Whatever’s up, he must really need that boat.”

  Emma didn’t like the sound of that. The change of plans could very easily be born of desperation or coercion. Hassim, though, seemed unimpressed.

  “I really need that boat. And this is the first time I’ve ever used Ali. Somalia isn’t my usual stomping ground. Perhaps this guy thinks he can mess with me.”

  Nick shook his head back and forth. “No way. Ali may not know you personally, but everyone knows that you work for Banner and that Banner doesn’t allow anyone to mess with his people. If they did, there would be a small army of former Special Forces guys crawling up their ass within days.”

  Hassim looked doubtful. “Banner doesn’t work this area much at all. Ali may not know his reputation.”

  Nick snorted. “Ali knows, believe me.”

  Hassim hitched his gun higher on his shoulder. “Whatever’s going on here is not my concern. I have a time-sensitive situation that requires my intervention. I need the boat, I paid for the boat, and I’m going to take the boat.”

  Nick put up his palms in surrender. “Hey, I’m with you. Let’s go get the boat.”

  Hassim moved out from behind the tree. Emma followed, and Nick brought up the rear. They jogged through the trees, following a jagged path from trunk to trunk. After a couple of minutes, they emerged at the beginning of the road. From the looks of it, Emma guessed that it was the road the Somalis had just used to deliver their provisions. Hassim hesitated behind another tree.

  “They most likely have a Land Rover around here somewhere. It’s doubtful they carried that crate the entire way on foot. Let’s go down, farther away from the shore, and impound their car. If they want it back, they’d better bargain.”

  Fifty feet along, they came upon a Range Rover parked dead center in the road. Emma was surprised to see that it was the latest model. Behind it sat an old white panel van. They watched both vehicles for a few minutes. Nothing happened.

  Nick shifted. “No one’s here. How about I canvass the road on the back end, leading to the village?”

  “I’ll head farther down the ocean side,” Hassim said. “When you’re done, come join me.” He turned to Emma. “You stay with the cars. It’s the safest place under the circumstances. They’re not likely to get past either Nick or me.”

  Emma shouldered her gun. “I’ll check both vehicles. If there are any weapons on board, I’ll drag them here.” She watched both men head to their various destinations. Silence settled over the clearing. After a minute she slipped out from behind the tree and walked to the Range Rover. The door opened with a smooth swing. A gust of superheated air washed over her. The inside of the SUV was like an oven. Despite the temperature it still contained a new-car smell. The incongruity of such a beautiful vehicle in Somalia struck Emma as evil. Nothing good had bought this car. She scanned the backseat first, looking for evidence of weapons, peering into the cargo area. Sand was scattered on the carpeting, but on the whole the interior was clean. She lowered herself onto the front seat. The leather was so hot that she felt the warmth seep through her clothes. By now she was sweating freely. Rivulets of perspiration streamed down her sides.

  She fished around the glove compartment, the ashtray, and the console. A canteen sat in the passenger’s foot well. Next to that was what appeared to be an aluminum water bottle. The driver must have tried to stash them out of the sunlight. A small burlap bag tied at the top with string sat on the console between the front seats. Emma opened it to find twiggy khat leaves, still fresh. They hadn’t started chewing yet, which was unfortunate, because they wouldn’t be impaired when they came upon Hassim and Nick. She gave another cursory look around and backed out of the Rover.

  The sun struck her, though it was a bit cooler when compared to the SUV’s interior. She headed to the van, ignoring the front area and moving straight to the rear doors. If any weapons existed, they’d be there.

  She reached for the handle and yanked her hand off it. The metal scorched her palm. She wrapped her fingers in the edge of her T-shirt and used it as a protective layer. She grasped the handle again and swung the door wide. Another blast of hot air hit her. She peered into the cargo area and gasped.

  There, staring back at her, was Richard Stark.

  34

  SUMNER STOOD ON THE PORT DECK NEXT TO THE SWIMMING pool and gazed at the cage armor. It sat in a circle of light cast by the overhead lamps. Herr Schullmann supervised a mechanic wielding a torch. Red and yellow flames sparked as he welded one piece to another. It was a grid of metal rods erected on a movable dolly. The bars ran horizontally, spaced six inches apart and held together by vertical support beams. The entire grid measured four feet high by five feet across. It was mounted at the end of the rectangular flatbed, which allowed a man enough space to crouch behind it on the platform. Schullmann moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with Sumner while he watched the mechanic work.

  “It is almost finished. What do you think?”

  Sumner walked around the dolly. The beams did not appear to be bolted to it. He looked underneath. Schullmann had welded several beams at a ninety-degree angle to the upright supports. These were six inches apart. They managed to slide over and under the dolly’s platform, stabilizing the entire grid without the need to nail it down. But what caught Sumner’s attention was the piece of steel attached to the back of the grid. It looked like a door, complete with a glass porthole. He walked over and tapped on it.

  “Where did you get the steel plating?”

  Herr Schullmann jerked his head at the mechanic. “It’s the metal door to one of the engine rooms. We took it off its hinges.”

  “So maybe it will protect against a blast after all. I’m impressed. This is excellent, Herr Schullmann,” Sumner said.

  Schullmann shrugged without smiling, but Sumner thought the man was pleased with the praise.

  “It is movable as well as removable. If it needs repair, we can simply slide it off.”

  Sumner nodded. “I noticed the way you attached it. Almost like a paper-clip bottom, with supports on each side of the flatbed.”

  “But you know, even with the solid door, it will not necessarily protect the person hiding behind it, right?”

  “I know.”

  Block walked up to them. He eyed the armor. “Helluva contraption you got there.” He moved around it, checking it out from all a
ngles. He reached over to pull on the bars. The system didn’t shake. “Solid. You sure do know your armor, don’t you?” Block extended a hand to Schullmann. “I’m Harry Block. I sell cars in Houston. You must be Marina’s father.”

  Marina, who was standing next to Sumner, translated for her father.

  Schullmann brightened. “What example of cars do you sell?” His English was passable, Sumner decided.

  “You name it, we sell it.”

  “SUVs?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  Sumner could see a long conversation ensuing, and he had no time to spare for it.

  “Any action out there?” he said.

  Block broke off his patter with Schullmann. “No. But Clutch is back. He’s drunk. I wanted to punch the guy, but he’s so damn impaired, wouldn’t be sporting.”

  Sumner was finding Clutch’s behavior to be more and more strange. He made a mental note to ask Wainwright how the man managed to become chief of security. He checked his watch.

  “It’s late. You want to be spelled?”

  Block nodded. “Cindy came by about an hour ago. I promised her to get some sleep.”

  “Give Janklow your weapon. I’ve got to get some sleep myself.”

  “I thought you went to do that already.”

  “Didn’t work out.”

  “So go. But this time, sleep, will ya?”

  “First we’ve got to set up the armor.” He turned to the mechanic. “Can you get it to the first deck level? The area nearest the ladder.”

  Block snorted. “You think these guys will be able to board?”

  “I don’t think they’ll board, I know they’ll board. The only question is from which side?”

  The entire group fell silent. Sumner glanced at Marina. Her face had lost all its color. He wished he could assure her that she was safe, but he couldn’t. Odds were they were soon to be attacked. The only questions were who would live, who would die, and who would be kidnapped.

  He put an arm around Marina. “Why don’t you get some sleep? You may need it later.”