INVITING FIRE (A Sydney Rye Novel, #6) (14 page)

The women looked at their escorts and then each other, surprised and excited by the new development. The men began to escort their dates inside while Lenox and I held back. Once they'd all drifted indoors we took the steps down, headed for the garage.

Once below decks the design of the ship's interior turned utilitarian, white metal walls and caged bulbs replaced the luxurious woods and satin shades. The garage area was in the stern of the ship. The lights were on when Lenox opened the door for me. It was a cramped space, Lenox's head grazing the ceiling. It housed the tender we'd taken earlier, propped up on a lift, a Jet Ski on a similar contraption, and then one empty space.

Lenox crossed the space and pushed a button. The back wall began to rise out and up. Lenox stepped to the edge as it moved away. The smell of the ocean floated in, mixing with the scent of gas that hung in the closed space. I slipped my dress over my head, laying it on the tender. Reaching into the boat I pulled out the bag Lenox had put in there earlier. It held my wetsuit, shoes, gloves, and pack. My skin pebbled as the door fully opened and the breeze coming off the water filled the space.

I pulled on the wetsuit, slinking it up my body. I put up the hood and, tucking strands of my hair into it, turned to face the open door. Lenox was looking at his watch. "He should be here any moment," Lenox said. I sat down on the deck to put on my shoes, pulling the strap of the pants over them once they were secure. When I looked up again I saw the other Jet Ski approaching the back of the boat. Its electric engine was so quiet that I had not heard it over the gentle slapping of the sea against the
Satisfaction’s
hull.

The driver of the Jet Ski was the same young man I'd met earlier in the day with the charcoal lined eyes, Tomas. He pulled up next to the platform and smiled at Lenox then nodded at me. I grabbed my pack and put it over my shoulders.

"What do I need to know?" I asked.

"The waves are actually down so you should have an easy trip." He looked in the direction of the peninsula I'd have to round before entering into the next protected bay. "It's real dark out there so be careful."

Lenox approached the empty lift and pushed a button. The whole thing began to move on tracks toward the water.

"I prefer it dark to light," I said.

The lift stopped half in the water.

"What about the security?" I asked. Tomas had gone out to double check what our source said, about the pattern of the guards on
Goldilocks
.

"The guards are pretty regular. They make the rounds on deck every 15 minutes but I also counted some at 12," he said as he helped Lenox maneuver the Jet Ski onto the hydraulic lift that would bring it out of the water. "I watched for the last two hours and they were not quite clockwork but never off by more than five minutes. But usually it was shorter periods rather than longer."

"Okay," I said. Blue touched my hip as Lenox pushed another button and the Jet Ski was raised out of the water by the hydraulic lift. Lenox approached the other Jet Ski and when the first clunked into place he released the second.

"It's fully charged," Lenox told me as the slick craft headed toward the water. It was all black except for dark green highlights on the handles and seat. It slipped into the water and I stepped to the edge of the boat. Turning to Blue I told him to stay. He cocked his ears and tilted his head.

"I'll watch after him," Lenox said.

I smiled. "Yeah, you guys are not who I’m worried about."

"You're going to do great," he said. I smiled, I wasn't afraid for me, either. It was Juan Carlos I was afraid for. Afraid that if I saw him I wouldn't be able to resist taking him out. Lenox checked his watch again. "You have three hours before we will set off again." I nodded. "If you miss the deadline," he made eye contact communicating that while he didn't think that was going to happen he wanted to make sure I knew the plan.

"Then I head toward tonight’s anchorage and meet you there."

Lenox nodded and smiled. I could see tension around his eyes. "Good luck," he said.

I
turned back one more time. Blue stood next to Lenox, his fur fluttering in the breeze, his ears perked, watching me. I faced forward, cranking the throttle gently. The Jet Ski purred and I slowly sped up until I was flying across the waves, a silent streak of black in the dark night. The grips on my hands and feet made me feel like I belonged on this ski, it glided through the water so effortlessly. I crossed out of the bay going fast and when I reached the open ocean the waves kicked up. I hit a wave and got air, it felt damn good as I landed back onto the surface of the sea, spray coming up and misting my face. The waves looked like uncut diamonds, flat facets and rough planes.

I passed around the craggy hill at the end of the peninsula, its shape a dark silhouette against the cloudy night. The moonless start to the evening was a huge help. The moon would have made me and my little ship much more visible, but in this murky black we fit right in. Not a hint of danger here, folks. Juan Carlos’s yacht glowed, barely moving in the protected bay.

The ship was even more impressive in reality than all the pictures and schematics I'd spent hours memorizing. It was over 150 feet long. A helicopter rested on the very stern of the ship. Three decks rose above it. The moon was just coming up over the land and it illuminated the bow of the boat for a moment before clouds moved in and darkened the scene again.

Slowing down I puttered through the gentle waters watching for the guard. Once I saw the man go by I knew I had at least 10 minutes before he came again. I could either make it over the deck by then or wait, suspended from the suction cups against the black hull, until he passed again.

I pulled out the binoculars Lenox had tucked into the Jet Ski's hold. Scanning the deck I waited to see the figure move by. There was a small gathering sitting on the very top deck, in the stern, enjoying drinks it looked like. I couldn't say for sure but it looked like all men. A puff of smoke surrounded them. Smoking cigars and planning the downfall of mankind, I thought bitterly.

There was a part of me, not a small one, who wanted to go up there and just kill Juan Carlos. Leave the manifesto so that whoever found him would know what crimes he had been punished for. But I wouldn't do that. And not only because Merl wouldn't let me have a gun—the blades at my wrists would do just fine, clean cuts, deadly. I wanted to be able to go home and tell Merl I did as he asked. I wanted him (and maybe me) to know that I didn't need to kill people. That I could see a bigger picture.

I saw a man with a small machine gun slung over his shoulder coming around the side of the ship. I watched him make his way slowly down the deck. He wasn't looking up or down, just out and around. He was not expecting someone to climb the side of the ship. His hair was dark and cut close to his head. He wore a T-shirt with a scoop neck. I knew I could hit that bit of flesh.

I waited until he opened the door to go back inside. I could picture where that entrance led. To a hallway off which were staterooms and then further down the sitting room which opened to the back deck where the helicopter waited. I secured the binoculars and started toward the yacht at speed, my engine barely humming, not even as loud as the wind rushing in my ears.

Inside my wetsuit I felt supremely protected, it was breathable, yet no water could get through. I couldn't say the same for bullets but I pushed that thought out of my mind as the ship began to loom large in front of me. Slowing down I turned off the engine, kicking over the small bumpers so that we glided silently up to the ship, bouncing off just a bit when the bumpers touched the yacht's dark side.

It seemed not to be moving compared to my little vessel but I didn't let that fool me. The swaying would feel a lot stronger once I was halfway up her side. Dropping my little anchor I waited for it to catch, backing up slightly to make sure it was really secure. Wouldn't it suck to do it all right and then have to swim?

S
ecure at anchor I dropped the pack and took out my suction cups, lifting them simultaneously to the side of the ship, securing them to the smooth surface with a satisfying suck. Closing the pack I got it onto my back and turned to the business at hand. I looked up at the ship, its hull curving out before back in. I felt like Sisyphus for a moment. How many times would I have to make this climb? Threaten people? Kill them? Keep pushing that boulder up the mountain?

Inhaling, I released the first cup and moved it higher, to where my elbow was slightly bent. The small craft beneath me rose and fell against the hull of the boat, the straps swayed gently and I exhaled, hearing the suction take hold. Stepping into the strap with my left foot, I concentrated on my core, using it to initiate the movement. Engaging my glutes I stepped up, lifting myself off the Jet Ski and into the air. Taking hold of the second suction cup I moved it up and secured it to the hull. I stepped into the strap with my right foot and looked up again. My feet swung beneath me, the angle of the ship too steep for my toes to settle against the yacht's surface.

Shifting my weight I removed my foot from the first suction cup and balanced on my right side, freeing the left hand to unlock the cup and move it up. I used my breath, the muscles in my stomach and back, and the power of my concentration to move up. Turn, inhale, lift, suction, exhale, step, shift, inhale, turn, lift, suction, step, and so it went. Soon the angle of the ship changed and the sticky toes of my shoes could rest against the hull, keeping my feet steady.

A breeze followed the lines of the yacht, kissing its hull and washing over me as I continued to climb. It dried the sweat on my face. The scent of sea and salt strong in the darkness. My legs began to burn, my fingers ached as I got closer to the deck. Ten feet below the railing I stopped, my hands and feet secure. I rested my face against the cool exterior of the yacht, waiting for the guard to pass again.

My heart slowed. The movement of the ship soothed me as I lay against it. A light went on below me, windows down toward the stern. Crew quarters, I knew from the drawings. Then I heard footsteps above. I tilted my face up and waited to see him pass. From my angle I wouldn't see him unless he looked over the edge but his form would cast a shadow against the light. Like a plane passing under the sun.

The footsteps grew louder, clunky steps, not an elegant man on patrol, more of a lumbering beast. His shadow passed and moments later I heard the door click open. The clouds parted for just a moment and the moon bathed its light onto the ship, covering her in a blue cast. It was at once beautiful and terrifying. I stayed where I was for a moment, craning my neck to see up to the balcony above the deck, my actual destination. Should I wait until the light died down? I wondered.

No, I thought, that's just fear talking. Let's do this.

I began to climb again. The wait on the side of the boat had allowed my muscles to tighten. I reached the deck, throwing one suction cup over and locking it onto the walkway. I hauled myself up with its help, slipping beneath the bottom rung of the railing. I lay flat and reached around to grab my other suction cup still attached to the side of the yacht.

The electric lights that illuminated the deck were bright and I imagined I could feel them burning on my back. The other suction cup retrieved, I stood up quickly and stepping up to the next wall, began to climb again. It was no more than three strides until I was above the lights and could blend more easily into the side of the ship.

I pushed myself to go faster, but careful not to lose control, not to let the nearness of my goal cause me to get careless. Past the electric lights and less than five movements to the balcony I heard a sound beneath me and turned to see a guard coming around the bend. He was tall and thin, wearing a black T-shirt and dress pants, a small machine gun slung over one shoulder, his hand resting against its grip.

I paused, stilling my whole body, holding my breath, the only movement in me the steady thump of my heart and the circulation of my blood. All those little processes you don't control. I felt a surge of adrenaline spiraling through my veins, brightening my vision, strengthening my limbs. I took a deep breath as the guard started down the deck. He was looking straight ahead but one glance up and he'd see my black figure against the gleaming silver of the upper decks.

I concentrated on a spot above his head as I slowly moved my right hand to my gun, shifting my weight like I'd practiced, slipping the silent leather catch. Merl had warned me not to look directly at anyone who hadn't seen me. The feeling of being watched is in our DNA, so don't give him anything to pick up on.

I slowly removed my gun, my feet steady in the straps and pressed against the side of the yacht. I held on with my left hand, sensing but not watching the man move down the deck toward me. His phone rang and the sound almost made me jump, but I kept my instincts under control, daring to take a breath as he was distracted by the device. He paused to pull it out of his pocket but continued to walk as he answered. "Mi amor," he said, then laughed at something the caller said, his eyes cast toward the ground while he walked under me. I followed him with my gun, peeling my body off the boat slowly to glance at him go toward the door. He opened it and I bit down on my lip, hoping he would just go through.

He stopped then, said something louder into the phone, and, unable to resist, I watched him frowning under the light above the door. He stepped back out on the deck and started to argue in Spanish looking out at the ocean. He gestured with the gun, angrily waving it up and down. The guy was getting into a hell of a fight with his girlfriend. Jesus, I thought, as the weight of my gun strained my already tired bicep.

The guard broke off mid-sentence and looked at the phone. I think she hung up on you bud, I thought. He turned angrily toward the door and wrenched it open, passing through quickly and slamming it behind him. I exhaled and almost laughed out loud my relief was so intense. Returning the gun to its holster, I began my climb again in earnest. Ready to finish this.