"Go slaughter the bastards," the old woman said after pulling the duct tape from her mouth.
After taking an extra two seconds to pat Dolly and Jada on the knees, I then gently pealed the tape from Smokey's mouth and kissed her on the lips.
"Don't come up until I give you the word," I whispered, turned around and headed back.
On the way, I pulled my still bagged cell phone out of my belt and looked to see if it yet had a signal. The bars went from none to two, then three as I approached the passageway to the outside.
As I touched the knob, I heard the explosions back ashore. Beautiful had gotten the text.
When I threw open the door and stepped out, three men were on the deck in front of me, one tall man holding Zoya from the back. His left forearm was covered with a white, bloodied bandage. All were gawking to the shore, so I still had surprise on my side.
"Ve got Knight!" the one holding Zoya said.
I climbed up to deck level, my Glock trained on their backs.
Suddenly the fireworks stopped. Then a lone popup flare went off, the incendiary lighting up the shore below it as it burned under its small parachute.
They seemed a bit confused.
"Vhat?" said a different man — another Russian. "That is not our explosive charges? A flare?"
"It is trick," a third Russian said.
Fearing Zoya's life was in immediate danger, I told them, "You didn't get Knight. Knight got you!" And then the old fateful demand that seldom works, "Don't move."
They all turned in unison, so I had to pick my shots quickly.
I shot the first one, pulling his handgun out of a shoulder holster.
The second man leapt to the side and out of sight to the port side of the cabin.
The third guy turned, holding Zoya's own dive knife to her throat.
I tried to keep a watchful eye out for number two, and said, "Karl, I presume."
"Mr. Knight? Is indeed pleasure. You teamed vith lovely little sista? Did Zoya please you?"
His smile was sickening. I wanted to shoot him there and then, put a bullet in his brain, but the big knife was pressed hard against Zoya's jugular, and I knew it would be deadly if he fell away before she had a chance to redirect it.
Zoya's eyes begged me to shoot him.
"Let her go, and I'll put the gun down."
"Ah," Karl said, "then ve settle — how you say — man to man?"
"Exactly."
"You take me for fool, Mr. Knight? Vas varned vhen take assignment should stay rifle-scope distance from you. And me vith wound," he said raising his left arm to show the bloodied bandage. "I am not stupid."
I wondered how he got the injury, but that didn't matter now.
"Chicken shit!" I said.
"Mr. Knight, name calling?"
I knew he was stalling me so that the other guy could sneak up from behind. I went along.
"Dick weed!"
He frowned as if really hurt.
"Hemorrhoid lips."
His eyes went wide.
"Shit stick."
His hand tightened on the blade.
"Pickle smoker."
I noticed the corner of his mouth curl up ever so slightly as I caught a dark reflection moving on the chrome trim around the companionway.
Zoya was getting ready to shout a warning, and I knew Karl would shove the seven inch blade up under her chin and all the way to her brain if she did.
Quickly pre-gauging my new target's position, I twisted around halfway and shot the bastard in the throat. He fired his gun wildly in his final dying reaction, but missed me. I was pointing my compact .45 automatic back at Karl, all within a second.
"Needle-dicked bug-screwer," I said, as the man I just smoked splashed in the water behind me.
Either he was really offended, or the guy I just killed had been a valuable asset to him. Karl's glare became genuine.
Zoya said, "Oh, too bad. Poor cousin Orlov!"
But I didn't see what was coming.
A fourth guy leapt at me from above, a kitchen meat clever in his hand.
My god, it's the chef! I realized as I rolled with him on the deck and my gun went flying. I should have known — all these big luxury yachts come with a chef.
I managed to knee him in the groin as we struggled, and I gained control of his weapon.
The additional distraction gave Zoya the advantage, and she stepped in to Karl's body, stomped the heel of her foot onto the top of his shoe, and spun out of his grasp, the knife now in her hand.
In the next instant, the seven-inch dive knife was buried in Karl's gut, up to the hand guard.
I got to my feet quickly and recovered my gun. Karl lay motionless in a pool of his own blood. The cook began to slowly stand, as Ol' Corky poked her head through the hatchway.
"Come on out," I told her. "But watch out for the dishwasher. I haven't seen him, yet."
In the distance a large boat with strobes and a search light was heading our way.
I turned to the clever wielder. "Over the side you go, fat ass."
"Vhat? Cannot swim."
"You heard me," I said. "Now. And I won't tell you again, I'll just pull the trigger. Besides," I told him, motioning toward the search lights, "Coast Guard won't leave you out there too long."
I thought it was a bit odd that the big man smiled before scurrying off the transom and making a huge splash in the water. I threw a life jacket to him as he went under for the second time, figuring he wasn't going anywhere. He would have drowned without it.
He could tread water until the Coasties got here.
Smokey followed Ol' Corky out of the cabin, but asked Jada to stay with Dolly below in the main salon. It was safer there, for now.
Smokey asked me, "Is Rabbit okay?"
I had nearly forgotten about him. Thinking back on the text he'd sent, I deduced where he might go if he were to sneak aboard a boat and hide to avoid capture. I doubted he could have made it into the cabin without being seen. I scanned the deck near the aft ladder for his hiding place. Molded into the bulwarks on both sides was a bench topped with a seat cushion. Under each were storage compartments. One was locked with a padlock. I was willing to bet Rabbit was either in the unlocked hold, or they'd discovered, killed and thrown him overboard. I prayed he was in that side compartment.
"Hmm," I said eyeing the hasp. "If I were to bet on it, I'd say he's inside that unlocked compartment.
Even though unlocked, it was the type that, with the hasp down, it could not be opened without pulling the hinged hasp back out and up. If Rabbit slipped inside to hide from the Russians, there would be no way he could get back out without outside help.
After tossing the seat cushion to the side, I threw up the hasp and raised the compartment lid.
Inside was a very grateful, grinning Rabbit.
"Well, young man," I scolded, "have you learned anything while trying to save the day?"
Climbing out, he answered, "Yeah, make sure your cell phone battery is charged before you go hiding from bad guys!"
All gave relieved chuckles...except Zoya.
Making eye contact with her, she smiled lightly while clutching what had been her uninjured side. Blood was pouring through her fingers.
* * *
"Know vho is third assassin," she says. "Know vho hired all."
As she collapses, I take her in my arms and hold her. She must have taken the wild shot from that cousin Olaf guy before he fell over the side. The girl is like a stray-bullet magnet.
"Hang on," I tell her, nodding to the approaching Coast Guard boat. "Help is coming."
"I kill. I kill brotha, Kirill." She smiles.
"Yes, you sure did."
Her body relaxes completely. She's limp in my arms. There is so much blood coming from her side and back. I'm sure she won't last another thirty seconds. My mind is racing. She knows who the third assassin is...and who started this competition to kill me — who hired them all?
Whoever hired this
group of contract killers is likely to be the same one who paid off the two dirty FBI agents and sent Peña to kill my wife, Jolene. Zoya knows....
She throws a curve. "How much like me — you love me?"
She's caught me off guard. She's dying. This lovely woman who made me feel so good, made me feel so young, made me laugh — is now making me cry. But I hold back the moisture from my eyes.
"Vould marry me if ve know...betta?"
"Yes," I whisper. What else could I say — even with Smokey looking on? This young woman, climbing with resolve out of destitution, had dreamed of coming to America and having a normal life, a family, children. Her dream, her life, is ruined.
Her head bobs lightly and her eyes close. I support her neck — worried she is gone.
"Yes," I tell her, louder so she can hear me on her way down that long tunnel. "Yes," I nearly shout. "I love you — "
She comes to and it makes a relieved smile come to my face, but I know she has only seconds to live.
She returns my smile and touches my cheek. "Liar."
Her arm falls limp. As quickly as that, she is no longer with us. I am holding only her shell — an "it", as Lt. Harper Legend so accurately refers to a corpse.
But I have no time to grieve.
From the deck behind Smokey, I see movement.
Karl is still alive.
He has Zoya's hand grenade in one hand.
He has the ring and pin in the other.
He throws the grenade, the safety lever flipping off as the deadly explosive bounces into the cabin where Dolly and Jada are.
One. We have less than six seconds before it explodes.
Two. Too many people — children, Smokey, Ol' Corky. All will die.
Three. I dive through the companionway, down into the cabin's main salon.
Four. My hands find the grenade.
Five. I begin unscrewing the head and fuse assembly from the body and explosive filler.
Six. It's coming, I'm turning the body fast, hoping it won't blow.
Seven. Lucky — old grenade, a dud? I duck my head away as I twist the thing one last time, pulling out the head and fuse.
Eight. The fuse flares as it comes out and pops — igniting the explosive charge inside.
The body of the grenade rockets from my hand and through the outside bulkhead — punching a huge hole in the hull, well below the waterline.
The main salon is full of acrid smoke and, as the water pours in, I collapse. Both hands feel on fire. My ears ring. My head hurts. I can't see. I pass out.
EPILOGUE
Wine and Romantic Gunfire
The Wizard's Den, 8:00 a.m., One week later
After a "welcome home from the hospital" pizza party for Oz the night before, I was sitting at the bar drinking coffee with Oz and See-Saw that next morning.
We were waiting for Smokey, Dolly, Rabbit, Jada and Ol' Corky to come over from the restaurant with breakfast. Beautiful and Booger were on their way up from San Diego to join us.
"Yeah, I'll tell you, E Z," Oz said, giving me a rundown on his time in the hospital, "there was this one night nurse — well, she was fantesticle."
"What?"
"That's Greek speak," See-Saw explained.
"Yeah," Oz said, "Fantesticle — she was so hot that I had to fan my testicles to keep 'em from catching the sheets on fire."
The two old sailors erupted in laughter.
I chuckled along, more at them than the joke.
"I don't remember that night nurse's name, but I'd call her Nurse Onion Butt."
"Onion Butt?" I said.
See-Saw said, "Yeah, her butt was so nice, it made him cry."
They both laughed again.
"And me, with two busted up arms," he said. "Can you imagine what time of day I wanted my sponge baths?"
"At night," I surmised.
They laughed again.
Oz said, "But I always got old Hilda, the body builder, first thing every morning. When I complained, she said young Nurse Onion Butt didn't do nighttime sponge baths."
They laughed again.
"Except on the weekend," he said. "Nurse Light-Loafers gave it to me, and both days, he pulled a couple of extra times on the ol' tally-whacker." He grabbed himself.
Now they were laughing so hard Oz couldn't talk, and I had to catch See-Saw before he fell off his bar stool.
They finally straightened up. I was glad — I didn't think I could take much more of the old sailor humor.
"I gotta hand it to you, E Z," Oz said, "I never thought you could unscrew a hand grenade to keep it from exploding."
I raised my eyebrows. "Neither did I."
"What?"
"What else could I do? If I would have jumped on the grenade it would have blown the bottom of the hull out, and that boat would have sunk like a rock."
See-Saw began explaining, "Hand grenades are made of three main parts — the charge, the body, and the head and fuse assembly. The head and fuse screw into the body where the charge is. When the pin is pulled and the safety lever is released, a spring-loaded firing pin strikes a primer, which ignites the fuse. The fuse will burn for five or six seconds before it gets to the detonator that sets off the charge. Since the charge is enclosed, the hot gasses that are immediately released have nowhere to go to relieve pressure, so the thing blows up."
I took over, "I figure the forty-year-old grenade fuse was a little slow. It probably went for about eight seconds. That gave me an extra two, which saved our lives."
See-Saw took the baton. "He got the detonator out of place from where it would usually go off in the explosive filler. And the top was open from him unthreading the thing. The burning filler was able to release its pressure right out the threaded hole. Instead of blowing up like a bomb; it shot like a rocket."
I held up my two bandaged hands. "I was really lucky."
"You can say that again," Oz said.
I said, "Oz, I was really, really lucky."
He frowned at me, curiously.
I explained, "You didn't know I spent a couple nights in a room down the hall from yours, did you?"
"No." Oz said, obviously wondering where I was going with it.
"Remember Nurse Onion Butt?"
"Yeah, so?"
I raised my two bandaged hands higher. "Nurse Body-Builder lied to you. Onion Butt does do nighttime sponge baths."
Oz groaned, shaking his head.
Now it was only See-Saw who was laughing. But he stopped abruptly.
"Sh-h-h!" he said. "I hear the girls coming, and if they catch us laughing, they'll wanna know why."
We were still chuckling when the ladies and Rabbit came in.
They greeted us with pleasant smiles, carrying plates of pancakes, eggs and bacon, and they sat them down in front of us as Oz poured more coffee with his right hand. Although badly bruised, it wasn't broken.
"The heroines," Oz said. "We were just talking about you," he lied. "How you all saved old E Z here from that sinking, burning yacht."
Ol' Corky rubbed my head with her knuckles. "Yeah, even ol' Wonder Boy needs a Wonder Girl once in a while."
"Hey, how about me?" Rabbit said. "I got the raft."
"And I got the pad-duls!" Dolly said.
I grinned at them. "That's right, you sure did. And it was young Rabbit here who had those bad guys all figured out."
I patted him on the back as he went to a bar stool on the other side of Smokey.
Smokey sat next to me, her face beaming. This would be a nice day — forecast sunny and very, very hot!
Two new voices joined us.
"And I got the helicopter that evacked him to the hospital — a lot quicker than the Coastie's patrol boat could have, if they'd ever showed."
"And I evacked Jazzy to the vet."
Beautiful Johnson and Booker Radcliff came in the door together, their smiles beaming.
We had a great breakfast, exchanging niceties and catching up. Ol' Corky was getting a new boat delivere
d this afternoon, and she was excited. She'd decided to retire from the mercenary-for-hire business for good and settle down here on her boat.
Oz was getting new front teeth today. His right arm was plenty bruised, but he would have full use of it within another week. His left would take several more weeks to heal.
When I asked See-Saw if he was getting anything new, he whispered, "I'll be getting laid."
I let that one go with a smile and nod, but without further comment.
I filled them in on some of the details they may have missed during the craziness the week before.
After his newly ex-wife exploded at the Kodak Theatre, Jason Ryder himself found the card she was holding that named Best Actor — that name was not his. The word on the news last night was that the Academy would be making a big announcement today.
I also explained to them that Jason was sterile. His manager Scott Pula was Sophie's real father, and Jason's lover. Stella knew Jason was gay — he started out being a very confused bisexual. She also knew that, although Scott was gay, he married his wife to keep up appearances. Between the three of them they decided Stella should have a child to hide from the world the fact that Jason wasn't homosexual in order to ensure he kept getting the block-buster movie deals.
Coincidentally, Scott's daughter was born within a month of Sophie and the two good friends could pass as twins. Scott Pula's ex was now in the process of adopting Sophie, and Jason was going along with it.
Now, with third degree burns to one side of Jason's face, he wouldn't be a pretty-faced leading man anymore. There weren't many big parts for actors with the Phantom of the Opera look. How ironic.
I complimented Oz on how nice it was for him to hang photos of Zoya and Stella above the bar with his brother and parents. But his family photos weren't of his real family.
You see, Oz claims he and his twin brother were raised from birth by the same wolf pack that killed his parents. He lived with them until he was caught in a trap at the age of six. He'll actually show you the trap scars on his ankle if you ask him. He says his brother is still living with the wolves on the Greek island of Hydra. If you tell him there aren't any wolves on Hydra, he'll reply that just because no one else has ever seen them, it doesn't mean they aren't there. The pictures of two wolves above the bar are captioned "Mom" and "Dad" underneath.
KNIGHT'S REPORTS: 3 Book Set Page 44
