KNIGHT'S REPORTS: 3 Book Set (45 page)

Chapter
23

Deep Six

Zoya came back
to my side and we exchanged nods

I gave her a smirk for taking the big guard on all by her little self and then passed back her sealed sample bag with firearm and phone inside.

I raised my cell phone out of the water, still sealed in its plastic enclosure, woke it up and pushed the send button. I couldn't see it well through the wet plastic, but the signal indicator didn't appear to be showing many bars. I hoped the text would go through, but I couldn't wait. If it didn't go now, surely it would as we boarded the yacht.

"All aboard," I whispered, and we swam over to the bow ladder. After slipping off our fins and laying them quietly on the stern swim ledge, I climbed first, my Glock 29 out of the bag, knife still strapped to my uninjured thigh.

So far so good. No one else was on deck. Zoya came aboard behind me, and we edged toward the cabin. Smokey and the others would likely be in the bottom hold — probably a bedroom — where they'd be best hidden away if for any reason the authorities stopped the boat.

Zoya hung back, providing rear security as I placed my hand on the passageway hatch. Suddenly, the night lit up like a firebomb as a search light came on and immediately found Zoya. She waved me on as discretely as possible.

The hostages being our primary target, and myself not yet being seen, I went swiftly through the hatchway, closed the hatch and went down the five steps of the companionway. Standing quietly in the cabin's main salon, I listened carefully for anyone that might come up from below.

From a voice in the cockpit above the cabin, I heard a muffled, "Stop!"

"
Ne mogu v eto poverit'
," the voice said. "I can't believe it! Is that you, little sister?"

I was only mildly surprised. Karl was the brother Zoya hadn't killed. This was the favor the Judge had given her. He'd fixed it so she would have the opportunity to kill her second brother. Finally, Zoya would have revenge for what Karl had done to her years ago. After killing Karl, she could have that family she'd dreamed about.

The sound of running footsteps of at least two men came from the steps in the forward compartment.

Taking them head on might not be a good idea. There could be more than two, and they could have hostages.

I dove beside a sofa near the passageway, just out of their sight as they came up. Two men raced through the large open main salon of the cabin, past me and topside, through the hatchway.

I got up and limped back in the direction they'd came, the bullet wound in my thigh starting to throb again.

On the way, I grabbed a sofa pillow and made the bottom of the short stairs in three long and awkward, but quick, steps. When I threw the next compartment door open, I was both relieved and horrified. All four of the girls were sitting before me, tied and duct-taped, their eyes pleading, a gun to the back of little Dolly's head. The fear in Smokey, Jada, and Ol' Corky's eyes tore at my heart, knowing their concern wasn't for their own lives, but for that of the four-year-old girl's.

I had no choice. I am an expert marksman, but a quick draw without aiming and from behind a pillow is a tough shot.

Like I said, I had no choice.

Before anyone realized I had a gun behind the pillow, it discharged. The prick with the gun to Dolly's head fell back, a bullet in his brain.

I wanted to stay, I wanted to comfort them and tell them it was okay. But it wasn't okay. I had to get back topside and help Zoya. If I didn't, we wouldn't be getting off the boat alive.

I pulled the large dive knife from the sheath strapped to my healthy thigh, considering who would be the most experienced in this kind of situation. Stepping to Ol' Corky, I cut her hands free and passed her the knife.

"Go slaughter the bastards," the old woman said after pulling the duct tape from her mouth.

After taking an extra two seconds to pat Dolly and Jada on the knees, I then gently pealed the tape from Smokey's mouth and kissed her on the lips.

"Don't come up until I give you the word," I whispered, turned around and headed back.

On the way, I pulled my still bagged cell phone out of my belt and looked to see if it yet had a signal. The bars went from none to two, then three as I approached the passageway to the outside.

As I touched the knob, I heard the explosions back ashore. Beautiful had gotten the text.

When I threw open the door and stepped out, three men were on the deck in front of me, one tall man holding Zoya from the back. His left forearm was covered with a white, bloodied bandage. All were gawking to the shore, so I still had surprise on my side.

"Ve got Knight!" the one holding Zoya said.

I climbed up to deck level, my Glock trained on their backs.

Suddenly the fireworks stopped. Then a lone popup flare went off, the incendiary lighting up the shore below it as it burned under its small parachute.

They seemed a bit confused.

"Vhat?" said a different man — another Russian. "That is not our explosive charges? A flare?"

"It is trick," a third Russian said.

Fearing Zoya's life was in immediate danger, I told them, "You didn't get Knight. Knight got you!" And then the old fateful demand that seldom works, "Don't move."

They all turned in unison, so I had to pick my shots quickly.

I shot the first one, pulling his handgun out of a shoulder holster.

The second man leapt to the side and out of sight to the port side of the cabin.

The third guy turned, holding Zoya's own dive knife to her throat.

 
I tried to keep a watchful eye out for number two, and said, "Karl, I presume."

"Mr. Knight? Is indeed pleasure. You teamed vith lovely little sista? Did Zoya please you?"

His smile was sickening. I wanted to shoot him there and then, put a bullet in his brain, but the big knife was pressed hard against Zoya's jugular, and I knew it would be deadly if he fell away before she had a chance to redirect it.

Zoya's eyes begged me to shoot him.

"Let her go, and I'll put the gun down."

"Ah," Karl said, "then ve settle — how you say —
man to man
?"

"Exactly."

"You take me for fool, Mr. Knight? Vas varned vhen take assignment should stay rifle-scope distance from you. And me vith wound," he said raising his left arm to show the bloodied bandage. "I am not stupid."

I wondered how he got the injury, but that didn't matter now.

"Chicken shit!" I said.

"Mr. Knight, name calling?"

I knew he was stalling me so that the other guy could sneak up from behind. I went along.

"Dick weed!"

He frowned as if really hurt.

"Hemorrhoid lips."

His eyes went wide.

"Shit stick."

His hand tightened on the blade.

"Pickle smoker."

I noticed the corner of his mouth curl up ever so slightly as I caught a dark reflection moving on the chrome trim around the companionway.

Zoya was getting ready to shout a warning, and I knew Karl would shove the seven inch blade up under her chin and all the way to her brain if she did.

Quickly pre-gauging my new target's position, I twisted around halfway and shot the bastard in the throat. He fired his gun wildly in his final dying reaction, but missed me. I was pointing my compact .45 automatic back at Karl, all within a second.

"Needle-dicked bug-screwer," I said, as the man I just smoked splashed in the water behind me.

Either he was really offended, or the guy I just killed had been a valuable asset to him. Karl's glare became genuine.

Zoya said, "Oh, too bad. Poor cousin Orlov!"

But I didn't see what was coming.

A fourth guy leapt at me from above, a kitchen meat clever in his hand.

My god, it's the chef!
I realized as I rolled with him on the deck and my gun went flying. I should have known — all these big luxury yachts come with a chef.

I managed to knee him in the groin as we struggled, and I gained control of his weapon.

The additional distraction gave Zoya the advantage, and she stepped in to Karl's body, stomped the heel of her foot onto the top of his shoe, and spun out of his grasp, the knife now in her hand.

In the next instant, the seven-inch dive knife was buried in Karl's gut, up to the hand guard.

I got to my feet quickly and recovered my gun. Karl lay motionless in a pool of his own blood. The cook began to slowly stand, as Ol' Corky poked her head through the hatchway.

"Come on out," I told her. "But watch out for the dishwasher. I haven't seen him, yet."

In the distance a large boat with strobes and a search light was heading our way.

I turned to the clever wielder. "Over the side you go, fat ass."

"Vhat? Cannot swim."

"You heard me," I said. "Now. And I won't tell you again, I'll just pull the trigger. Besides," I told him, motioning toward the search lights, "Coast Guard won't leave you out there too long."

I thought it was a bit odd that the big man smiled before scurrying off the transom and making a huge splash in the water. I threw a life jacket to him as he went under for the second time, figuring he wasn't going anywhere. He would have drowned without it.

He could tread water until the Coasties got here.

Smokey followed Ol' Corky out of the cabin, but asked Jada to stay with Dolly below in the main salon. It was safer there, for now.

Smokey asked me, "Is Rabbit okay?"

I had nearly forgotten about him. Thinking back on the text he'd sent, I deduced where he might go if he were to sneak aboard a boat and hide to avoid capture. I doubted he could have made it into the cabin without being seen. I scanned the deck near the aft ladder for his hiding place.  Molded into the bulwarks on both sides was a bench topped with a seat cushion. Under each were storage compartments. One was locked with a padlock. I was willing to bet Rabbit was either in the unlocked hold, or they'd discovered, killed and thrown him overboard. I prayed he was in that side compartment.

"Hmm," I said eyeing the hasp. "If I were to bet on it, I'd say he's inside that unlocked compartment.

Even though unlocked, it was the type that, with the hasp down, it could not be opened without pulling the hinged hasp back out and up. If Rabbit slipped inside to hide from the Russians, there would be no way he could get back out without outside help.

After tossing the seat cushion to the side, I threw up the hasp and raised the compartment lid.

Inside was a very grateful, grinning Rabbit.

"Well, young man," I scolded, "have you learned anything while trying to save the day?"

Climbing out, he answered, "Yeah, make sure your cell phone battery is charged before you go hiding from bad guys!"

All gave relieved chuckles...except Zoya.

Making eye contact with her, she smiled lightly while clutching what had been her uninjured side. Blood was pouring through her fingers.

*  *  *

"Know vho is third assassin," she says. "Know vho hired all."

As she collapses, I take her in my arms and hold her. She must have taken the wild shot from that cousin Olaf guy before he fell over the side.
  The girl is like a stray-bullet magnet.

"Hang on," I tell her, nodding to the approaching Coast Guard boat. "Help is coming."

"I kill. I kill brotha, Kirill." She smiles.

"Yes, you sure did."

Her body relaxes completely. She's limp in my arms. There is so much blood coming from her side and back. I'm sure she won't last another thirty seconds. My mind is racing. She knows who the third assassin is...and who started this competition to kill me — who hired them all?

Whoever hired this group of contract killers is likely to be the same one who paid off the two dirty FBI agents and sent Peña to kill my wife, Jolene. Zoya knows....

She throws a curve. "How much like me — you love me?"

She's caught me off guard. She's dying. This lovely woman who made me feel so good, made me feel so young, made me laugh — is now making me cry. But I hold back the moisture from my eyes.

"Vould marry me if ve know...betta?"

"Yes," I whisper. What else could I say — even with Smokey looking on? This young woman, climbing with resolve out of destitution, had dreamed of coming to America and having a normal life, a family, children. Her dream, her life, is ruined.

Her head bobs lightly and her eyes close. I support her neck — worried she is gone.

"Yes," I tell her, louder so she can hear me on her way down that long tunnel. "Yes," I nearly shout. "I love you — "

She comes to and it makes a relieved smile come to my face, but I know she has only seconds to live.