Jet (30 page)

“Give me a knife, then. I’ll cut her head off and dance on the flying bridge with it,” Grigenko snarled.

“I’ll finish her. You need to leave now. Can you fly the helicopter yourself? The pilot is on shore for the evening.”

“If I go slowly, I can manage it. I had a few lessons. It will be tough at night, but I can handle it.”

“Stay low, and you’ll evade the radar. Put down near the airport in Nice, and you can be airborne, on the way back to Moscow, before anyone is the wiser. By the time they get around to questioning all the guests, you’ll be in Russia, having narrowly escaped an assassination attempt. We can figure out the rest from a safe distance – the authorities will lose interest quickly once they realize that the only casualties were members of your security detachment.” He gestured at Jet and David. “These two don’t exist, and their bodies will never be found. We’re only eight miles away from the airport, so you should have no problem making it. Just keep your running lights off and stay close to the water,” Vaslav cautioned.

Grigenko grunted assent. Vaslav was right. They walked towards where Jet was lying on the floor next to David, and the Russian abruptly stepped closer and kicked her in the ribs, the toe of his loafer connecting with bone with an audible snap.

“That’s for my brother, you bitch. Rot in hell,” he spat, a stream of sour spittle landing on her still face.

“She’s out cold. Come on. Don’t waste your time. She’ll be dead within two minutes, I promise. I’ll strangle her myself,” Vaslav assured him.

“Fine. Oleg. Come on. You’re going with me. Let’s go,” Grigenko ordered, and the second security man joined them from the com room.

“But the computer and the–”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s over. Move,” Vaslav said.

Grigenko took one final look at Jet and then fixed Vaslav with a glare.

“Rape her. I want you to violate her in every ugly way you can think of. Tear her apart. Film it for me. Use your phone. Do not disappoint me in this, Vaslav.”

Vaslav nodded. There might just be time, and the idea had already occurred to him when he’d caught a good look at her.

Trailed by Oleg, Grigenko mounted the stairs to the next level, where the small helicopter he kept for shore excursions was located. When they reached modest flight deck, Oleg unfastened the straps that held the conveyance in place, coughing from the toxic cloud that rose from the entertainment deck. Grigenko climbed into the cockpit and flipped several switches, and then a starter whirred. The engine caught, and the rotor began turning lazily overhead.

Oleg gave him a thumbs-up signal, swung the co-pilot door open, and slid into the seat next to Grigenko.

After a few false starts, the rotor picked up speed and the small craft hesitatingly lifted clear, ascending shakily into the night as Grigenko struggled to keep the little chopper under control.

~ ~ ~

Jet felt herself being dragged away from David, then a powerful hand yanked the zipper on the front of her jumpsuit down with violent force. Vaslav strained at her clothes, his breath catching in his throat when he saw the bronze of her nakedness under the leather. He pulled her arms out of the sleeves and then began stripping the pant legs off, tearing the outfit down to expose her.

He stood, fumbling with his belt, and then dropped his trousers as he looked to the railing, where smoke was pouring from the deck below. He would have to rappel down using one of the cables from the helicopter deck once he was done with her. There was no way to make it down the stairs now.

And no way for anyone to get up.

David gurgled helplessly beside them, unable to help her, his life ebbing from him even as the nightmare he was witnessing grew worse with each passing second.

Vaslav knelt between Jet’s legs, and then his hands flew to his throat. Blood sprayed from a gash running from below his left ear to his esophagus. He tried to staunch the stream with shaking hands, and then his eyes rolled into his head, and he slumped onto the deck next to her, twitching as life departed him in a rusty puddle. Jet pulled herself to a sitting position, the plastic card from the casino still clenched in her right hand. She’d retrieved it from her jumpsuit’s only pocket, the stiff edge as effective as a razor in her skilled hands. She wiped the blood from it using Vaslav’s hair and then pulled her jumpsuit back up, zipping the front before moving to where David was laboring to breathe.

“David…” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. He was dying. The chest wound was bubbling pink froth from his lung. She gazed at the ashen skin of his face and knew.

“I…I’m sorry, Maya.” His voice was barely a whisper.

“Shhh. No need to be sorry about anything, David.”

He grabbed at her arm, his grip weak, trembling.

“I need to tell you something.”

“I love you, David.”

He shook his head.

“I’m so, so sorry. I love you too… I didn’t mean to ruin your life…”

“You didn’t ruin anything. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He coughed, blood trickling from his lips and oozing down his chin.

“Listen. I want you to know…I’m sorry about the baby. Our baby.”

She recoiled, shock written across her face.

“How did you know–”

“There’s no time. I found out. That’s the important thing.”

“Oh, David. She…I lost her. She died while I was giving birth…” The tears fell from her face, collecting in a small pool, mingling with the dark stain spreading on his chest.

“No.”

“Yes, David. I…I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and increased his grip, surprising her.

“No. She didn’t die.”

The words slammed into her. She looked around wildly, her expression uncomprehending.

“How do you…what do you mean, she didn’t die? I saw her. I buried her. Hannah.”

He shook her arm with his remaining strength, forcing her eyes back to his.

“She’s alive. I’m sorry. I had to protect her. It wasn’t safe.”

“You…how…”

“I found out, and I had the doctor switch Hannah for a newborn that died the day before. The underage mother was going to put it up for adoption…”

Another racking cough finished with a grimace. He didn’t have much time.

“I wanted to tell you a hundred times since you came back. But I…I couldn’t. I was afraid…I was afraid I’d lose you again…and it still wasn’t safe…Grigenko…”

Her expression froze.

“You stole my baby…? You let me live for two years believing she was dead?” The dawning horror in her eyes was worse than anything she could have said, any condemnation or expression of hate.

“I had to. You’d never be safe, no matter what you believed. You can’t outrun your past. And she’s my daughter, too. I did what was best. For her. Not for you, or for me. For her, to keep her safe,” he said, his voice trailing off towards the end. His eyes began fluttering.

She was losing him.

“No. No, you can’t die. Where is she? What did you do with my baby?” she screamed, grabbing his wetsuit and shaking him. His head lolled, and then he croaked at her.

“What? What did you say? David. Don’t die. Where is she?”

With the last of his life, his lips quivered, trying to shape a word. She leaned close to him, putting her ear beside his mouth.

“Where, David? Where?”

His breath wheezed and gurgled. He drew one final lungful of air and clamped his eyes shut from the effort of staying alive, trying to make amends for having done the unforgivable.

“Ohhh…mah…haaah…”

The last of the breath departed him as a groan, and then he shuddered and lay still, his eyes, having opened on the last syllable, stared lifelessly at the ceiling above him.

“No. No no no no no. Damn you, David. Damn you…”

She pounded on his chest with her fists, over and over again, drumming home each exclamation, then fell against him, sobbing, anguish shuddering through her body, a combination of love and hate battling for dominance.

Flames licked at the rear of the command deck and the enclosed area filled with black smoke, the fire now raging out of control below. Fire engines screeched to a halt on the wharf, and she vaguely heard screams in French as the firemen directed their hoses at the ship.

She looked up at the smoke. Her daughter was alive. David’s final gift had been to give her back her life. But in doing so, condemning his memory to eternal damnation.

Jet reached over and closed his eyelids, then rose and staggered to the bridge. A radio crackled near the throttles, and she heard Grigenko’s distinctive voice.

“Change of plans. Tell the jet to file a flight plan for Omaha, in the United States. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Have the pilots ready to depart when I arrive. And get our man in the United States to send someone to this Nebraska place to meet me when I get there. Do you understand?”

Omaha
?

But how?

How had Grigenko learned that her daughter was there?

Jet looked around, eyes stinging from the haze, and saw a glow from the com room. She moved towards the door and peered in. A laptop computer screen flickered in the dark, running on its battery. She approached it and saw cables going from the hard disk to a much larger box. A decryption engine.

Moving closer, she peered at the screen and saw lines of code. She scrolled down and read, taking in the data. It had to be David’s laptop, stolen from his apartment. The data on it had been instrumental in Grigenko finding her.

But apparently David also kept other information on it.

Like his plans to kidnap Hannah.

The floor began to collapse and flames shot through a rent twenty feet away. She committed the name and address on the screen to memory, then ran to where David’s FN P90 lay on the floor near where he’d fallen. She scooped it up, moved to David and freed his backpack, pausing to slide the weapon inside before pulling the straps over her shoulders.

A sharp crack sounded from the deck as more of it collapsed – she wheeled around and darted to the bridge. The side door was wedged shut, and she pried at it with both hands, forcing it open with a creak. She stepped out and looked over the rail, then without hesitation threw herself headlong into the night air, her body describing an arc as she narrowly cleared the structure below and sliced into the water, her entry hardly causing a splash.

Chapter 33

The massive bulk of the ship’s hull hid Jet’s dive from view. When she came to the surface, the blazing fury of the fire illuminated the night, the reflection an eerie dance of light on the harbor’s ripples.

Jet pulled with smooth strokes to the front mooring rope, a hundred yards from where the stern of the yacht was backed up to the dock, moored Mediterranean style with the bow pointed at the harbor mouth. When she got to the line, she felt David’s scuba tank and bag bobbing just below the waves. She slid off the backpack before cranking the air valve open and clearing the regulator with an abrupt blast. Glancing at the wharf, she fastened the harness around her chest and clipped the backpack to it, tugging to make sure it was secure.

She slipped the strap of the mask over her head and took one final look back at the dock as David’s now useless dive bag sank into the depths. Samuel was standing near the water, watching the boat burn with the rest of the partygoers, draped in a blanket and looking dazed. One of the crew must have found him in time. She allowed herself a grim smile, then pulled the mask into place and pushed off towards the harbor entrance.

Her boots slowed her, but she was able to make the hundred and fifty yards to the rocks at the marina mouth using only her arms for propulsion. The surge from the sea rose and fell, waves pounding against the breakwater, and in the dark, she could just make out the waiting jet ski tied to an ancient iron ring in the sea wall.

She pulled herself astride it and jettisoned the scuba gear before pulling the backpack on and jabbing the starter button with her thumb. The powerful engine roared to life, and she unclipped the shore line and then opened the throttle wide, the jet ski’s slim frame leaping forward in a surge.

Spray shredded along the hull as her speed increased until she was tearing through the water at over sixty miles per hour. The lights of Cap d’Ail twinkled as she blew past the point, racing towards Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat, where once around the tip, she would have a straight shot at the airport in Nice.

A searchlight pierced the night from behind her, playing over the sea, and she sliced further towards shore, braving the surf and deadly rock outcroppings to lose the patrol boat that had hurtled out of the harbor in chase. She was airborne for a few seconds before she crashed back into the waves and cranked the gas, hoping to outrun the Monaco boat.

A voice boomed from the pursuit craft, but she couldn’t make out what it was saying. She peered down at the speed indicator and saw that she was now doing almost seventy miles per hour. There was no way it would be able to catch her. She just hoped that she could avoid any French patrols and get to the airport in time to stop Grigenko. It was a long shot, but at this point, it was the only one she had.

She zigzagged erratically to create a more difficult target, leaning forward to minimize her profile. She knew she wouldn’t be able to outrun a helicopter if the police were able to get something into the air that quickly, but it was dark, so as long as she could stay out of the searchlight she had a good chance with the boats.

When she rounded Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat, she saw Nice spread out before her like a field of light, the airport shimmering on the shore at the far side of the city. The swell increased in size, slowing her, but making it even harder for the chasing boat to gain on her. She glanced back and saw that it had given up – no doubt, the Monaco patrol had radioed ahead and handed the problem off to the French.

The airport was no more than five miles, and she could easily identify its buildings blazing bright on the water. At her current speed, she would be there in seven minutes or less. Then the question would be whether she had made it in time to stop Grigenko. At any moment, he could be taking off in his custom Gulfstream G-550, headed for Omaha, his objective no doubt Hannah. She understood that this was a blood feud, a vendetta, and the Russians were serious about their feuds – he would go scorched earth and slaughter anyone close to Jet, and the closest person in the world was her daughter.