I looked around the room that I was in. Along one wall was a pile of junk. The rest of the room was empty. I walked over to the junk and began sorting through it, looking for anything that might help me. My head buzzed, and I finally sat down to keep working.
There were bits of old frayed rope, some canvas bags, a couple of plastic buckets, and an old plastic milk crate. I turned the canvas bags inside out, hoping to find anything that I could use to defend myself or to escape. But there was nothing. And I didn’t have anything with me. I wasn’t sure what they’d done with my shower bag, but all I had was the clothes I wore. They’d even taken my shoes. I checked my shorts pockets, just in case, but they were empty. Great.
I didn’t have a clue what time it was, as I had no idea how long I’d been unconscious. Even though I knew it was pointless, I checked the portlight again, tugging at the loose piece of sheet metal. But it was useless. It wouldn’t budge. And even if it did, I couldn’t escape through it anyway. I turned my attention to the other pieces of metal. Two of the screws were sticking out from the surface about a quarter inch. They hadn’t been screwed flush. I tried twisting them with my fingers, but got nowhere.
Moving back over to the pile of junk, I dug around until I found a small piece of rope with a rough fiber. Taking it back to the window, I wrapped it around the head of the screw, hoping that it would provide enough friction to help me get enough of a grip to turn the screw. It was frustrating. The rope helped a little bit, but because the screw head was so small, it was still difficult to get a tight enough hold. After about fifteen minutes, I gave up. I wasn’t sure why I had bothered anyway, since I wouldn’t be able to crawl through. But at least it made me feel like I was doing something.
I paced around the small room, looking for anything I might have missed. Eventually, I heard footsteps in the corridor. In desperation, I picked up the milk crate and stood near the door. I heard the sound a lock clicking open, then a rattle as a padlock was removed. The handle turned. I tensed, bracing myself.
The door opened, and Johnny Rumbar stepped inside. With all my strength, I hit him across the face with the milk crate. He staggered back with a grunt of pain. I slammed the milk crate down on him, trapping his head, then I shoved against the crate as hard as I could. He fell backward, cursing. I jumped across the threshold, ready to run.
And stepped right into the waiting arms of a tall, blond, good looking man. I’d seen him once before, walking away from Thief of Time in the middle of the night.
Chapter 25
I fought him, but he was too strong. Laughing, he picked me up and set me back inside the room, where Rumbar was now standing, the milk crate tossed to one side, his shoulders heaving.
"Get the light, Ivan," Rumbar said.
Ivan shoved me toward Rumbar, who roughly grabbed me and pushed me down. I fell, banging my elbow painfully. I blinked, trying desperately not to cry from the pain. Ivan stepped back into the corridor and returned with a battery-powered lantern. He switched it on, then turned the milk crate upside down and put the lantern on it.
I looked up at Rumbar and saw murder glinting in his eyes. He brought his knife out of his pocket and held it at his side, an expression of anticipation on his face. Slowly, I stood up, rubbing my elbow. Fear spiked through me.
"Get all that stuff outside," Rumbar said to Ivan, motioning toward the pile of junk. "I wanted you to clear that out earlier."
Ivan shrugged, but began hauling everything out. I heard another hatch open. He must be dumping everything into a different room. Rumbar stared at me while we waited, his hand clenched around his knife.
A moment later, Ivan returned.
"Shut the door," Rumbar said. "Then check her pockets. I don’t want any more surprises from her."
I turned my pockets out before Ivan could reach me. I had no desire to have him touch me. He squeezed each out-turned pocket. "Nothing there, Johnny."
"All right. Ivan, stand in front of the door. Kill her if she tries to get out." Ivan’s eyes darkened, daring me to try to get out.
"You. Sit down."
I sat down under the portlight. Rumbar stood in front of me, rubbing his knife against his blue jeans. Then, to my surprise, he squatted down in front of me.
"We’re going to have a little chat, Shelby. I want you to know what’s in store for you. Just to give you a little something to look forward to."
"Where are we?"
"Hiding in plain sight," he said, smirking.
"What does that mean?"
"It means we’re still in Beaufort. Ivan here, well, his mother actually, owns this boat. Everyone thinks it’s a derelict. It’s been anchored here for—how long, Ivan?"
"Years. I’ve lost count."
"But Ivan makes sure his mother keeps the registration current, and we’re anchored outside the channel, out of the way. People may think it’s an eyesore, but we’re not breaking any laws. Well," he said, with a snort of laughter, "We’re not breaking any laws as regards the boat. Its cargo is sometimes a little outside the bounds, right, Ivan?"
Ivan nodded, his eyes on me, his pupils dilated.
"It’s come in pretty handy over the years. We just make sure to move everything quietly, at night, and no one ever even knows we’ve been aboard. It’s the perfect place to stage a big shipment. From the outside, the boat looks like it’s on the verge of sinking. Over the years, we’ve moved a lot of stuff. Mostly guns, but sometimes drugs. The stuff I gave you earlier was from one of our shipments." He grinned at me.
I didn’t say anything.
"Here’s the thing, though, Shelby. You messed stuff up for me. First, by seeing that unfortunate incident with my brother. That was really none of your business, you know. You should have just kept that to yourself, and I would have left you alone.
"Then second, after I beat out of Duke that he’d helped you, even though I still thought you were dead, I had to change all my plans because of you."
"Well, actually," I said, unable to stop myself. "That was your fault. If you had thought things through, you wouldn’t have left Duke behind. I bet it was after that, when you realized that Duke knew your plans, that you knew you’d made a mistake in leaving him."
Behind Rumbar, Ivan shifted a little, looking down at him. "She’s right, Johnny. You should have killed Duke or brought him with you. You knew he’d tell. He never wanted anything to do with this, and that was his payback."
"Just shut up, Ivan," Rumbar snapped. "I’m not asking you."
"Hey, I’m not Duke. You can’t order me around," Ivan said, his voice quiet. "Do yourself a favor and remember that."
Rumbar turned to face him. "And you do yourself a favor and remember what I did to Eric."
There was a moment of silence while they stared at each other. I couldn’t see Rumbar’s face, but Ivan’s was calm. No emotion. I shivered.
Finally, Rumbar shrugged and turned back to me.
"We’ve strayed from the point here, Shelby Hope. I haven’t told you yet what’s going to happen to you. See, in another few hours, our regular guys will be here to drop off a shipment of guns. Since you messed up our plans to leave the country, I decided to go ahead and get one last drop. We'll leave it here for now, come back later when the heat has died down. Tonight, after we unload and our guys leave, the three of us will go with them. We’re going to take you offshore, weigh you down, and drop you in."
His voice took on a parody of sorrow. "You should have just let me get you drunk the other night so you could drown peacefully. I tried to help you out there. I tried to make it easy for you. Painless. If you’d done what I wanted, you would have passed out and not felt a thing. Now, this way, you’re going to be awake when we tie weights to your feet. Awake when we drop you overboard. Awake when you feel your body dragged downward. And you won’t be able to do anything about it. You’ll struggle, your lungs will burn, you’ll try to hold your breath, but eventually, you just won’t be able to help it. You’ll take a breath. But it will be wa
ter and not air. Then you’ll start choking. The pressure will be terrible. It’s not an easy death, Shelby. You should have done it my way. Just remember that. Have that be your last thought."
He grinned and began absently rubbing his scar. "I wanted to tell you now, so you’d know what was coming. We’ve still got some time while we wait for our last shipment to get here. Time where you can sit here and know that the other boat is getting closer. Time that you know you can’t get away. Time to think about what’s going to happen to you just hours from now. Time while we put you into the other boat and drive you offshore to deep, cold, dark water."
Choking down my fear and hoping that my voice wouldn’t shake, I asked, "What happened to you?"
"What do you mean? Like, why am I a criminal? Are you trying to be a social worker, here, Shelby?"
"No, I mean, what happened to your arm? The scar?"
Surprise went across his face. "Funny, not many people ask me about that. They just figure it’s an occupational hazard, I guess."
Ivan spoke again. "You like to give people that impression, Johnny. So people will think you’re a real tough guy. Tell her what really happened."
"Ivan, you’re starting to get on my nerves."
"When Johnny was about twelve, he decided it would be fun to light a wasps’ nest on fire and watch it burn. So he got a bottle of lighter fluid out and squirted it all over the nest."
"Ivan, enough. I’m telling you."
"Except he got some on his arm too. Then when he lit the match…well, I’m sure you can picture the rest. Back then, nobody in our family had enough money to get him good medical care, so he just went to the ER, and they treated it and sent him on his way. He didn’t get a skin graft or any of that, what do you call it? Reconstructive surgery? Anyway, now, he’s got a few different stories he tells people, depending on his mood. He hated it when it happened, but he sure likes having that scar now."
Rumbar looked self-conscious. "Ivan, I thought I told you to stop talking. You’re supposed to be the silent partner, remember?"
"I’m the reason you’re not in jail, Johnny. That scar makes you feel like a tough guy, but it always just reminds me that you have no impulse control. You need me to keep you from self-destructing."
Rumbar stood up and slid his knife into his pocket. "Ivan, I’m telling you, I’ve had enough."
Ivan grinned. I got the sense that they’d had these arguments before, a sort of ongoing rivalry that replayed over and over but that wasn’t fueled by real emotion and didn’t keep them from working together. Ivan’s next words proved me right. "All right, Johnny. We all know what comes next. Just hit me and get it over with. I embarrassed you in front of the girl, and now you need to assert your masculinity. Come on, go ahead."
Rumbar swung his fist at Ivan. Ivan caught it and pushed it away, easily. "Come on, Johnny, you can do better than that." Then Ivan cuffed Rumbar on the ear. "Come on, come on."
Rumbar drove his fist into Ivan’s stomach. Ivan doubled over. Rumbar brought his interlaced fists down on Ivan’s back. Ivan dropped to his knees. Over the sounds of their scuffling, I heard a small clink as something fell from Ivan’s pocket. Neither of them seemed to notice. Ivan recovered and grabbed Rumbar around the waist. They wrestled for a moment, then both of them started laughing and stood up, Rumbar whooping with masculine joy. They did a man-hug, thumping each other on the back.
Inexplicable.
Still laughing, Rumbar said, "Shelby, I hope you enjoy thinking about what I told you. Now, me and Ivan are going to go have a little drink, an early celebration. We’ll be back to get you in a couple hours. I hope you remember everything I told you just now. I’m going to enjoy my drink, thinking about what you’ll be going through soon."
He picked up the lantern and the milk crate. Ivan opened the door, and they stepped into the corridor, Rumbar’s voice raised in excited chatter. The door handle thunked firmly shut, and I heard the padlock click closed. Their footsteps faded.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust again to the dim light, with the lantern gone. I waited until I could see well enough not to walk into the wall, then moved toward the door. Kneeling, I began searching for whatever Ivan had dropped. My hand closed on something small and cold.
A key.
Chapter 26
It must be the key for the padlock. Slumping down against the wall, I leaned my head back in frustration. It would do me no good with the lock on the other side of the door. I thought hard. Was it likely they had a spare? If they came back and discovered that they’d lost the key, what would they do? If they didn’t have a spare, maybe they wouldn’t be able to get in when their friends came, and I would be safe until someone figured out where I was.
My elation was short-lived when I realized the two fatal flaws with that scenario. First, no one knew where I was, and since help hadn’t arrived so far, it seemed unlikely that anyone would figure it out in time.
Second, surely on a boat like this, there were any number of tools—bolt cutters, hacksaws, who knew what else—they could use to just cut the lock. It would delay them by about five minutes, tops. And three of those minutes would be them having a juvenile argument about whose fault it was.
I stood and began pacing, my thoughts churning. My head still ached a little, but my nausea was gone. I hoped the remnants of the headache would dissipate soon.
Since they’d taken everything out, there was nothing for me to sit on besides the floor. I alternated between pacing and sitting, feeling restless and afraid. I tried to picture what would happen when they came back for me. Would they all come? Rumbar, Ivan, and their friends? If they didn’t, if maybe only one came, would I have a chance to fight and run?
Even if I made it out, I didn’t really know where I was. Rumbar had said we were near Beaufort. That was still a lot of water, and I had no sense of what direction I should head in. Maybe once I was outside, I’d be able to see the city lights. Even then, I didn’t know how far away we were. I could swim, but not forever.
I knew that Rumbar and Ivan must have some kind of dinghy here. They had to have a way to get out here themselves. I had the impression that this boat was fairly large, though, and I had no idea where their dinghy might be tied off. Or even if it was still in the water. If they were trying to maintain the appearance of an abandoned boat, they might have hauled the dinghy aboard to keep their presence unnoticed, especially since they were planning to leave with their other friends.
When their friends came, they too would have some kind of boat. I didn’t know how many people were coming though, and it seemed likely that their boat would be guarded while they offloaded their cargo.
It also seemed possible that Rumbar would be back with his needle and his sedative before they moved me, just to avoid complications. Unconscious, I wouldn’t be able to resist at all. And with two or more of them, they could easily inject me.
One thing was sure though, if they managed to get me off this boat and onto their friends’ boat, that was it for me. I started pacing again.
Sometime later, I heard a familiar voice at the portlight, softly calling my name. I stood still, too shocked to respond at first.
Chapter 27
"Shelby, are you there?" the voice whispered again.
"Grace?"
"Oh, good. I thought I’d never find you." Her face appeared, close to the opening.
Recovering from my surprise, I asked, "How did you get here?"
"It’s a long story. Listen, I’m here to help you. Do you know where you are?"
"Not exactly. But there’s a padlock on the outside of the door. I have the key."
"How did you get the key?"
"That’s a long story too. Do you think you can get down here and find me?"
"Yes. It may take a few minutes. Here, hand me the key."
I passed the key to her through the hole. She took it and said, "Okay, sit tight, I’ll be there as soon as I can."
I listened, but I couldn’t hear her
footsteps move away. She must not be wearing her Mary Janes, I thought, grinning to myself despite the circumstances.
Two minutes passed. Three. I began to worry that she couldn’t find me, or that Rumbar and Ivan had found her. But then I heard a scritch as the padlock opened, then the handle turned, and she gestured to me to come out. I followed her out into the corridor, shutting the door and locking the padlock. Then we both froze as we heard voices.
"In here, quick," she hissed, grabbing my hand and hauling me to an open doorway across the corridor. We hurried inside and crouched down. A moment later, I heard footsteps, and then someone rattled the padlock.
"Johnny, I told you that you were just imagining things. The door’s still locked."
Rumbar’s voice came faintly. "I could swear I heard something."
"Well, you didn’t hear her. She’s still locked in. Pour me another drink." His voice got fainter as he moved away.
"So how did you get here?" I whispered.
"Well. I was looking for you. I was still in Beaufort this evening, hanging around, trying to decide if I should stay to see what happened or go back home. I was near the marina when I saw your friend come running back from the facilities. He got your other friend, and they were both looking for you. The police came out. Everyone’s trying to find you. But I figured it out." Her voice sounded smug.
"How did you figure it out? Are the police on the way?"
Telltale (Shelby Hope Book Two) (Shelby Hope Novels 2) Page 16
