3 Lies (37 page)

The deck was clear. He started down the stairs. From a distance, Chester heard the slow whining spin-up of the Bell jet engine before ignition. Binard didn’t fly.

Amir. Shit. He found the helicopter. Chester punched the wall of the stairwell. Now how the hell was he going to get away?

“Where the hell did Beth’s helicopter go?” Clint rocked his crate chair inside the shack.

“Shh.” Merlin took a furtive glance out the window.

“Why would it leave now?” Clint spoke in a whisper. “Beth’s still on the ship. It can’t leave without her.”

“I can’t say it makes sense, mate.”

“It’s been over an hour since we left the car. What’s the CIA doing? Where’s the big tactical team Chester bragged about?”

Waiting in the small building intensified the discomfort. They hadn’t seen any action on the ship since they arrived within view. The constant churn of the surf drowned out everything but the sound of Beth’s helicopter disappearing into the smoky-dark night.

Amir was true to his word. He left Doug to fend for himself, and the crawl space from the engine room led to a bunkroom. Doug peered through the grating into the cabin. Obtaining a weapon held a sincere appeal, but he didn’t want to meet any more of the agents beforehand. He watched a moment to make certain no one was present, then opened the hatch door and crept into the room.

A Smith and Wesson 9mm lay inside the drawer of the nightstand as promised. Three for three. While honor might be in short supply among thieves, it still abounded among assassins. The clip held ten hollow-points, but the chamber was empty. He cycled a round into battery position. He also found a lone key in the drawer, which he hoped would unlock the other cabin doors.

He wanted to help the hostages off the ship. But with the other agents on board, he’d only lead them to slaughter. He had to clear the ship.

The disabled monitors gave him cover but no help. Doug listened for noises in the hallway before opening the door. He knocked on the door across the hall. No one answered. He tried the key in the lock and turned, opening the door a crack. The smell of unwashed bodies seeped from the room. When he pushed open the door, the haggard faces of five old men turned to him in fear.

“I’m Doug Bryant.” He kept his gun out of their sight. “Are there any guards in the room with you?”

An ancient head shook the answer. Doug stepped inside and closed the door. His was the first face they’d seen in a week that wasn’t masked. It didn’t matter what Doug said to them, hope skipped from one man to the next as they realized Doug was there to set them free. The man closest to him quickened near tears.

“I’ve got people on the outside to help.” Or did he? Clint and Merlin were ordered to stay at the hotel and Chester, well, Doug already had too much of his help. He doubted the tactical team existed. Plus there were at least two other agents at large. Doug might be the only one to help after all.

He examined his charges. They weren’t an especially fit bunch to begin with. Elderly, soft, and worn from a week’s confinement. “I’m going to get you out of here.” He hoped that promise was true.

“Thank you.” Tears streamed down the large lady’s face as she hugged Chester. “I’d given up hope of being rescued.”

“We’ll get you off this ship as soon as possible.” Chester counted the three women and a child. They wouldn’t be any trouble as long as Binard really was contained as they said. “I need to make sure we have all the kidnappers under control first, ma’am. You have one in your bathroom?”

He stepped over the child and opened the door to the head. The women backed away as if he might unleash a tempest. Binard was conscious, bloody, but trussed beyond any ability to maneuver in the small space. Shame flickered into hope when he saw Chester, but Chester closed the door in his face.

“Nice work, ladies. I’m very impressed.” Charm wasn’t Chester’s usual tack, but confined women were an easy audience. They beamed at his praise. All except Beth. She had no resistance left. No fight. He walked over to her.

He needed insurance, especially if Masters tried to be a hero. She was an anchor, but the other women might resist, and the child was a child. Chester detested children.

“I understand you need medical attention. If I help, do you think you can walk off the boat?”

“Can’t you get a stretcher for her?” The black woman looked worried.

“There’s an ambulance on the way.”

“It’s all right, Vonda. I’ll try.” Beth raised her head from the pillow. “I’m ready for some fresh air.”

Chester held both hands out for her and helped her upright. She was very weak. He lifted her legs around to let them swing over the edge of the futon, where they rested on the floor. He scooped her up from the side and ushered her to the door.

The large woman had opened the door for them and stepped aside, so they could lead the way. Chester stepped though to the hallway with Beth, pulling the locked door behind him.

Before it slammed shut, the large woman screamed.

“I’m going to get you off this ship, but right now I need you to stay here. At least until I check on the women.” Doug needed these men to stay calm. He needed time to map an escape.

Several of the men echoed him, “The women?” Another added, “We knew there were others on board but—”

“I’ve got to check the ship.” He opened the door to leave. Defeat sagged the men’s faces. “I promise, I—”

With a door slam, the men jumped as if zapped by a cattle prod. The trilling scream of a woman sent them receding into their skins.

“Stay quiet.” Doug peered into the hall. He caught a flash of someone, probably Chester, dragging a woman up the stairs. With long, blonde ringlets of hair, Doug knew it had to be Beth. He took aim but lowered his weapon. He’d gladly shoot the bastard, but he couldn’t risk killing Beth.

Who are you, really?” Beth stumbled on the step. “What do you want from me?”

“Cover, honey.” Chester dragged her up the stairwell, keeping a constant watch around them. “In case your boyfriend is somewhere outside.”

“Clint? He’s here?”

“Maybe. If so, you’re going to be my shield.” He pushed her into the galley first. “Now keep quiet.”

He cleared the galley before moving to the main salon. Amir and Doug were the only people left who could stop him. If Amir took his helicopter, as Chester suspected, then he wasn’t a threat. Doug, even if he was still alive, was still just a kid. Besides, Chester was out of options. He had to get off the damn ship.

He dragged Beth along until she recovered a stumbling gait. Her breathing came hard and quick. As they stepped around Salif's and Jaman’s corpses, Chester felt her body shudder.

Doug knocked before unlocking the door of the women’s cabin. They greeted him with mistrust and tears. “I’m Doug Bryant, CIA.” He flashed a badge. “I know someone just took Beth. Please, was it a white man, tough-looking, about sixty?”

The black woman glared at him while the large woman sniffled into her sleeve.

“I’m trying to help. Who took her?”

The small girl on the floor stopped playing. “He was Chester. He’s taking Beff to the doctor.”

A lump worked through Doug’s throat. He wanted to bundle up the girl and take her home. She needed some clean clothes, her own bed, parents who loved her. Chester would answer for this tiny child too.

Doug leaned over and stroked her cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He turned back to the women. “Please stay in your cabin. Do you know how many kidnappers are on board?”

“We know of at least four.” The black woman’s countenance softened. “We have one in here.” She motioned to the bathroom. “He’s not going anywhere.”

“Seriously?”

The large woman said, “We did it.”

Doug opened the door to leave, “I’m glad I’m on your side.”

His phone vibrated when he hit the hallway. The called ID said it was Posey. He considered not answering. Taking the time to hang on the phone was risky. But he wanted someone to know what had happened if he didn’t make it out alive.

Clint’s eyes burned. He’d stared at the ship for fifteen minutes with nothing to see.

“You need to blink, mate.” Merlin said.

And then he caught a glimpse of her at the aft door. Beth. His insides felt like flowing liquid. She was limping, but Chester helped her out the door.

“Oh, thank God!” Clint shoved the binoculars to Merlin. “Chester’s got her. Finally, an end to this nightmare.”

From the galley, Doug saw bodies of two dark men on the floor of the main salon. No doubt the two agents he’d met earlier. That meant nearly a full count. Amir was gone, a captive below, these two dead, only Chester on the loose. It was his turn to stalk. Time to think like a hunter.

Time to double-oh-seven-up.

No way Chester would go to the flybridge, it was a dead end. The only way out was off the ship. He checked the rest of the galley and peered into the main salon. Chester was heading out the door with Beth. He leveled his gun. But they were moving around too much. He didn’t trust himself with the new weapon to make a clean shot.

The moon hung low in the sky like an October pumpkin. Orange hues bounced across the water as Clint ran to the Hatteras. He tripped over a crumbling rowboat in the tall weeds but stayed on his feet, braking the quiet with a full-tilt run on the planks in front of the pier. Chester and Beth turned toward the noise but continued down the pier toward shore.

Five days of agony, and suddenly, there she was. Each pounding step brought him closer to Beth and relief. He felt numb and on fire in alternating flashes. His thoughts tumbled over each other. Beth, finally in his arms. Paige alone with his child. Louie, dead. Beth, alive and here.

He rounded the corner to the Hatteras’ pier. Chester and Beth were half-way to shore as he bounded toward them.

“That’s far enough, Masters.”

Clint skidded to a stop. Chester aimed a gun at Beth’s head. Clint looked around, maybe he was missing something that might help this all make sense.

“Get moving.” Chester shoved Beth forward.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m leaving the ship.”

The logic fell into place like tumblers. “You’re working with Todd.”

“You are a smart guy.”

“Beth. Are you alright.”

Her green eyes expanded as if to take him all in. His Beth. Five days as a hostage. Dirty, tired, determined. Beautiful.

“She’s fine. Now turn around and keep walking.”

“I guess there’s no tactical team out here to help. No snipers.”

Chester laughed. “We’re all alone, pal.”

Someone had taken the helicopter. “Where’s Doug?”

“With any luck, dead.”

Clint’s heart wrenched when he came closer to Beth. Her silky skin was a pasty sallow, puffy and shiny from swelling. She swooned under Chester’s grip.

“Let her go.”

“Keep moving, or you’ll wear her head.”

“You don’t need both of us, Chester. Let her go. I swear. I’ll do anything you ask.”

With his left arm threaded across her back, Chester dragged Beth forward.

“She’s only slowing you down. Look at her. C’mon, I can at least drive for you. I swear Chester, word of honor.” Clint held up his right hand. “I won’t do anything to try and stop you.”

Chester seemed to weigh the offer and relaxed his grip on Beth. She fell toward the railing. Her hand slipped to her pink jeans.

“Maybe you would be more useful than—”

Fire flashed from Beth’s hip and blew out Chester’s leg. The gun fell from Beth’s grip, clattering across the planks. Her jeans hung in tatters. Chester crumpled to the deck in a screaming, bloody heap. He aimed at Beth. His hands shook like a jackhammer. She strained against the railing. It collapsed, sending her over the edge. He fired.

The bullet cracked the air. Chester swung toward Clint. The black circle danced inches from Clint’s face. He backed up slowly. Chester’s finger squeezed the trigger. A gunshot from the Hatteras ripped Chester’s shoulder open. His weapon scrabbled beyond his reach and dropped into the ocean. Clint stepped off the pier after Beth. From out of the dark, a volley of blasts exploded into the planking.

Clint dove into the icy blue, flailing with each stoke to locate Beth. About ten meters away, her limp body floated near the surface. He buried his face in the water and powered to her side. “Beth. Are you hit?”

Her eyes didn’t open. “No. But I’m cold.”

He placed his arm over her neck, lifting her head with his hand. Her body shivered as he pulled her toward the shore.

When his feet reached the bottom, he sloshed through the waves with Beth draped in his arms. She nuzzled his face, whispering something to him. He couldn’t make out the words, but he knew what she wanted to say.

The cool air sent chills across their wet bodies as they climbed out of the cold Atlantic. Each drop of water returning to the ocean leached a drop of his accumulated dread. Merlin waded into the surf with a blanket and wrapped it around Clint and Beth as they trudged the shallow slope to shore. Clint looked up to see a medical team waiting for them on the beach. He hadn’t noticed the arrival of the helicopter. He exhaled, the weight of his undertaking peeled away like a rind.

Clint cradled Beth and carried her to shore. Brash lights probed the spaces between them. Beth’s hot breath tickled the inside of his ear as he laid her on the gurney. The MedFlight team swarmed with the efficiency of procedure.

They prepped Beth for evacuation to Brigham and Women's Hospital where her nephrologist was standing by. A twin-engine Dauphin II helicopter stirred the air in anticipation. Instead of an annoyance, the noisy jet engines and kerosene smell only added to Clint’s relief.

Beth vanished behind a wall of white-clad bodies, dangling bottles, and a metallic blanket of
Star Trek
design. He wanted to go with her, but he knew, it wasn’t best for her. The medical team had enough distractions without nursing an ego.