Now, there was nothing he could do but exercise patience and work with Interpol in the hope of arresting Victor Yu.
He went back to the saloon, noticing how Marina looked at him in an offhanded way, so different to the way she’d looked at him at the amphitheatre.
‘Would you have given the flash drive to Yu, if he’d fronted in Sorrento?’ he asked, curious to hear her answer.
‘I’d do anything to save my career, though I wouldn’t like it to be at the expense of someone else’s.’
He guessed he deserved that. ‘Lucky we got to you first, then.’
‘Depends on how you define lucky.’
Dean almost laughed. He was used to dealing with respectful guests, not reluctant ones, and there was a refreshing honesty about Marina. People often told him what they thought he wanted to hear, and it became tiresome. Only Rask knew him well enough to be entirely frank.
And strangely, in the time he’d been gone, she and Rask had lapsed into a polite wariness following their dust-up—whereas she wouldn’t give him the time of day. Impressing him wasn’t her priority. He knew she had more important things to worry about.
He leaned forward and tried again. ‘Despite the fact we got off to a rocky start, being on the yacht serves two purposes. One, it keeps us out of sight of the paparazzi, and two, it gives us time to organise things with the cybercrime squad and Interpol. We can have local police in every port from here to Rome.’
He watched her lift her brandy glass and take a sip. ‘If he’s watching the cruise ship, he’ll be expecting me to get off.’
‘And when you don’t, he’ll call,’ Rask said. ‘That’s how we’ll set him up.’
Marina put the brandy glass on the coffee table. ‘You’ll have to excuse me. Where’s the bathroom?’
‘Of course.’ Dean reached for the phone on the table. ‘Danika. Could you come up here please?’
He hung up, watching as Marina came out from behind the coffee table. She was a little unsteady on her feet, maybe a combination of tiredness and the brandy he’d given her. ‘Are you sure you’re alright?’
She nodded, looking unimpressed by his concern.
‘Is there anything I can get you?’ He shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t touch her. ‘Something to eat, perhaps?’
She shook her head as if she couldn’t be bothered talking, and moved towards the violin.
‘Here, let me.’ He moved in front of her and picked it up, heard her sigh.
Okay, so maybe he was trying too hard.
There was a light tap and Danika walked in.
‘Is the master guest suite made up, Danika?’
‘Yes, Mr Logan.’
‘Take Ms Wentworth downstairs.’ He handed Danika the violin. ‘Her suitcase should be outside the door.’
‘Yes, Mr Logan.’
‘Oh, Marina?’
He waited until she turned those big eyes on him. She was noble—she’d called him immediately she knew the USB was in her possession. She might not like him very much at the moment, but he intended doing everything in his power to turn that around.
‘If you need anything, just pick up the phone.’
‘I just need a break.’
He almost winced. She could have added ‘from you’.
‘Sure.’ He looked at her white face. ‘Rask and I will start work on this.’
Dean watched as she left the saloon, and a moment later the door closed behind her.
He turned around and raked a hand through his hair. ‘Christ, Hektor, what a fucking mess. I gave that girl hell, and then she handed me the files that could save my company.’
Rask gave a slow nod. ‘I have to admit her story’s plausible. We always thought Yu was after the designs, and it makes sense he’d use her to courier the device out of the country. Didn’t want to get caught with the hardware himself.’
‘We have to nail him.’ Dean jabbed a finger at the door. ‘I need to fix this, for her.’
‘Don’t feel too bad. She would have given him the files if he’d turned up today, she said as much.’
‘I’m not convinced. Anyway, she gave you shit, Hektor.’
For the first time in a long while Rask’s face cracked in a smile. ‘I enjoyed the stoush. Makes a nice change from the usual hangers-on.’
‘Yeah? I don’t think she’s going to forgive me anytime soon.’
‘And I’m guessing it’s important—because you’re talking about it.’
‘You know me too well, Hektor.’
Rask gestured with his glass. ‘I’ve never seen you so eager to please a woman. And a hot-headed one into the bargain.’
Dean picked up the brandy bottle and poured another finger of liquor into his glass. ‘She’s a musician. Artistic temperament.’
‘Oh, that’s right. You haven’t had one of those.’
Dean snorted. ‘Have you heard her play?’
‘You know I haven’t.’
Dean swirled the liquor in his glass. ‘I downloaded some of her music last night. She’s incredible. It—takes you somewhere. I design yachts, and people call it art. But that’s bullshit. It’s not art. Art is what she does.’
‘You’re scaring me. I’m thinking she’s special.’
‘I like her, Hektor.’ Dean’s thoughts turned to Venice, and Taormina—how she’d laughed in the gondola and ridden on the back of his bike. Before he knew who she was. ‘I thought for a while we might be good together.’
‘And now?’
Dean shook his head. ‘Not so much.’
‘Because of her job?’
He nodded. ‘Long-distance relationships don’t work. Women crave attention. They get lonely.’
Like his mother.
Driven into the arms of another man.
‘I remember my father coming home after months at sea.’ Dean leaned over and topped up Rask’s glass. ‘The whole family dynamic changed. I loved him, but it was like having a stranger in the house.’
‘From what I saw, she’s not asking you to marry her. She’s barely speaking to you.’
‘Understandable. I didn’t phone her back, and we both doubted her. I don’t know who she hates more, Rask, you or me.’
‘Pretty sure it’s you.’
‘Christ, that’s depressing.’
Right then his mobile rang, jolting him out of his reflection.
‘It’s Sydney.’ He swiped his thumb across the screen, his heart striking a slow, heavy pulse against his ribs. ‘Logan.’
A hum, a long-distance delay on the phone.
‘Dean?’
Jim Kruger, his General Manager.
‘Jim? How’d you go?’
Dean waited as his voice echoed down the line followed by another lengthy delay.
‘They’re all there. Every file.’
Dean closed his eyes and let the relief wash over him. It was almost finished. He opened his eyes and nodded at Rask, then sent a silent thank you to Marina.
The Mach V was almost back on track.
‘The files are reinstalled,’ Jim was saying. ‘The IT people won’t give the final okay until they run their own anti-virus and malware through it. That could take a while. And as you suspected, he’s changed the passwords. God knows how long it will take to crack those.’
Dean waited for the echo to finish before he spoke again. ‘Take it one step at a time, Jim. We’re in a lot better position than we were a few days ago.’
Another long delay. ‘For sure.’
‘Send me two-hourly progress reports.’
‘Will do.’
‘Cheers mate.’
Dean killed the call and brought Rask up to date. Then he moved to the window, bracing his hands against the polished wood as he stared out at the ocean. For the first time since Yu had encrypted the files, they had the upper hand. Yu had made a grave mistake when he contacted Marina, for he’d put her on notice. He’d placed a bet, rolled the dice, knowing how she’d hidden her condition back home. He ha
d been certain she’d never risk her career.
But she’d come to him.
And now he had to help her.
Dean looked up as Rask clapped him on the back. He turned, and the two men shook hands.
‘We’ll get him.’ Rask picked up his glass and raised it in a toast. ‘Skál.’
While Rask threw back his drink, Dean turned away and went to the computer containing the encrypted files. He leaned over, ran his finger across the touchpad and tried opening one of the old design files. Just as it had a few days ago, the geek guerrilla warrior appeared in the centre of the screen.
Today it looked far less menacing, maybe because they knew a lot more about who and what they were dealing with.
Dean sneered at the ridiculous-looking Lego figure kitted out in its mercenary gear. This loser had stolen from him, and now he was blackmailing Marina.
‘Brace yourself, Yu, or whatever your fucking name is, because your time is just about up.’
Chapter Fifteen
Cinque Terre—Five Villages Walk
Li stared at the hundreds of padlocks clipped onto the wire bridge, purporting to signify eternal love.
What a stupid and unsightly tradition.
How many besotted lovers threw away their key only to return with a set of boltcutters? Not many. Most would leave the lock to corrode away as the relationship had. Did they buy a shiny new lock when they found another lover and fix it to a different structure, contributing to another community eyesore?
Stupid people!
Like sheep.
Li shifted his backpack to a more comfortable position and trudged on towards Monterossa. He had two days to study this piece of coastline and mingle with the tourists.
He wasn’t interested in being a tourist.
Time was money.
Money was his interest.
He went where money was to be made.
Two days until the cruise ship docked in Livorno.
Was it the best day to approach Marina?
He kicked at the loose pebbles on the track, pulled his cap lower over his face. Before their conversation he’d been on edge, wondering if she’d discovered the USB in her camera bag. He’d imagined her finding it among the others where she stored her musical stuff. He’d imagined her staring at the password protected files in confusion. He’d imagined her tossing it away thinking she’d picked it up by mistake while teaching at the Conservatorium.
Half a million dollars, maybe more, gone in an instant.
So he’d called.
Had he made his first mistake?
He’d be crazy not to maximise his return on the risks he’d taken. And this had been a high-stakes game from the moment the big man contacted him with his proposal. That part of the transaction was over, but there was money to be squeezed from the deal yet. The million would pull his family out of the poverty cycle and into the new Chinese middle class.
Another half mil would buy him a Mercedes McLaren.
Li trudged on. A short while later he reached the picturesque fishing village of Monterossa. He chose a busy cafe with free wi-fi and sat at a table in the corner. He gave his order to the waitress and thought about whether Marina would call the police.
He didn’t think so. Music was her life. She lived and breathed it. She’d never sacrifice her career for somebody like Dean Logan, a man she didn’t even know.
Then, like an echo of his thoughts, someone spoke his former employer’s name.
Female.
American.
Li didn’t move, just scanned the room from left to right from under the brim of his cap. On the bar, a small TV was tuned into CNN news.
‘We cross to the America’s Cup where match races are due to begin off the coast of San Francisco in ten days. Reports to hand state that Dean Logan, skipper of the Australian racing team, the current defender of the America’s Cup, has withdrawn from the competition. Details are sketchy, but our reporter in San Fran confirms Mr Logan will not be joining his crew in California as scheduled. Just repeating this breaking news. Dean Logan, the skipper of Australian racing yacht, Eclipse, is out of the America’s Cup.’
Li smirked and logged into his computer. So, Logan had gone into damage control and returned home.
Perfect.
He checked the digital clock in the corner of the screen. If Logan coughed up the grand, he’d know his former employer was really on the ropes.
What a great thing to have on his résumé as a hacker.
Li logged into his favourite betting site. On the back of that news bulletin, it would be prudent to increase his already substantial wager on the United States to claim the ‘Auld Mug’.
He didn’t look up as the waitress set a mug of coffee in front of him.
Chapter Sixteen
Dean stood on the bridge and studied the radar, then took a long hard look at the choppy swell.
He’d been caught up with Rask in a two-hour teleconference with Interpol and Detective Mooney. Photographs of Yu were in circulation. Police from the local command in every village had been put on alert, from Portofino through to Livorno.
He had to admit, the various law enforcement bodies had acted swiftly, and to date there was no cause for criticism. But there was also no such thing as a fail-safe plan, and the police were as capable as anyone of ballsing things up, sometimes with horrific consequences. He’d learnt that lesson twenty years ago when only Rask had been convinced of his father’s innocence.
Dean shut down the memories and studied the radar again, checking the blip that was the cruise ship.
‘Chart a course into Portofino. Stay a mile due west and two and a half hours ahead of the ship at all times. Full knots.’
Alain nodded. ‘Shall I call ahead for a berth?’
‘No.’ Dean turned away from the bank of terminals. ‘We’ll anchor offshore.’
He left the bridge, wondering if Marina had woken up. According to Danika she was having a lie-down. He wanted to give her the good news about the files. He also wanted to reassure her they were reasonably confident of arresting Yu the moment he showed his face in any of the villages.
And he needed to apologise.
Rask looked up as he entered the saloon. ‘Sorted?’
Dean checked his watch. ‘Marina should be awake by now.’
‘She looked pretty worn out. Probably didn’t sleep much last night.’
Dean paced the floor in an effort to wear off the edginess. Now they had the files, they could concentrate on catching the bastard. After that, he’d think about salvaging his defence of the America’s Cup. There were billions invested in that race, and he hated letting people down. But right now, he was putting out one fire at a time.
He stopped pacing, catching sight of the stack of papers in Rask’s hand. ‘What do you have there?’
‘Mooney sent through another bunch of images for her to look at.’
Dean rolled his eyes. ‘I bet she’ll be looking forward to that when I tell her.’
He glanced at the door then back at Rask, secretly pleased he had a legitimate excuse to go see her. On the night he’d followed Marina in Venice and watched her in the gondola, he would never have imagined that five days later she’d be lying in a bed on his yacht.
And now, the image alone was messing with his concentration.
‘I’m going down to check on her.’
‘I don’t think she’s too keen on our company.’
‘She saved our skin, Rask.’
Dean left the saloon and took the panelled hallway to where a spiral staircase led to the lower decks. He ran lightly down the steps, the plush carpet silencing his footsteps. Moments later he was standing outside Marina’s door.
He raised his hand and knocked, surprised how his heart rate picked up speed. ‘Marina?’
He waited, listening for a sound from within.
Nothing.
He rapped again, more loudly. ‘Marina?’
‘Go away.’
A muffled reply, barely audible.
Dean smiled. By her own admission she could sometimes be difficult, but he hadn’t taken her for a sulker. ‘Can you come to the door, please? I want to speak with you. I’m sorry if I woke you up.’
Another long pause.
‘Mar—’
‘I’m sick. Go away.’
Sick?
Shit!
He tried the handle.
Locked.
‘Marina, let me in.’
Dean stared at the door, blood pounding so loudly in his head he wasn’t sure if she answered him or not.
‘Stuff it.’ He took out his master key and let himself in.
Her suitcase was open on the floor. The bed turned down, rumpled, as though she’d been sleeping. He strode into the bathroom and stopped, breath catching in his throat. She was lying on the floor in her underwear, arms wrapped around her stomach, dark hair spread across the white tiles.
He sank to his knees beside her.
‘Ohhh’ She clutched her stomach and turned away. ‘Just let me die.’
Dean lunged for the phone on the wall. ‘Alain, put out the stabilisers and bring me the kit.’
He banged the phone down and ignoring her protests pressed a hand to her forehead.
Cold.
Clammy.
Trembling.
She groaned, pushed herself up on her hands and stared at him with shocked eyes. ‘I’m going to be sick again.’
He nodded, wrapped one arm around her waist and supported her as she leaned over the head. A violent spasm ripped through her slender body, muscles contracting beneath the smooth whiteness of her skin. She had nothing left inside, and after a short while he laid her down on the floor again.
He took his arm from around her waist and brushed her hair away from her face. ‘You’d be better off in bed.’
‘No. I might be sick again.’
Needing to help her in some way, he folded a towel and put it under her head. ‘I’ve sent for something. Hang on.’
He was washing his hands with soap and hot water when Alain came in. He glanced at his first mate in the mirror. ‘Antiseptic swab and one of the ready-prepared syringes.’
A Dangerous Arrangement Page 10
