Scorpion (31 page)

Broxton turned to look. They were close to the rocks and he still had trouble seeing them. If Ramsingh hadn’t pointed them out he’d have missed them completely. He looked behind. “They’ve completed their turn.”

“
Look at the island ahead,” Ramsingh said. “We’re headed directly for the south coast. When I tell you, turn to starboard, to the right. Keep turning till the island is off the port side. That’ll be a ninety degree turn. Hold that position till I tell you differently.”

“
But the rocks?”

“
We should be by them by then.”

“
Should be?” Broxton said.

“
Should be,” Ramsingh answered.

Broxton checked behind them again. He didn’t have to tell Ramsingh they were getting closer. He turned away and eyed the coastline, looked again toward the rocks, but they’d moved past and he couldn’t see them through the rising swell.

“
What are you doing?” he asked, as Ramsingh let out more of the mainsheet.

“
Slowing the boat down even more.”

“
They’re coming awfully fast.”

“
I think she wants to ram us.”

“
Won’t she go down, too?”

“
Good possibility, but she’s thinking she’s got a steel boat. We’re fiberglass, she’s bigger. She probably thinks she’d survive a collision and we wouldn’t. She’d be wrong. Fiberglass is a lot tougher than it looks, and that thin skinned steel boat isn’t as strong as she thinks. Anything can sink, even the Titanic went down, and that boat’s no Titanic.”

Broxton looked over his shoulder. They weren’t far behind now and they were rapidly closing the distance. “Shit,” he said, staring at the stainless steel bow roller. Two heavy anchors rested in it and to his eyes they looked like great steel tipped battering rams charging up the ass end of their small boat. He gripped the wheel in a fit of panic.

“
Don’t!” Ramsingh yelled. “Not yet.”

And Broxton stayed his hand. He’d been about to turn out of the way, but there was something about the authority in Ramsingh’s voice that screamed out to be obeyed.

“
We don’t turn till the last possible moment. We want her to think we’re running like frightened jackals. If she even suspects what I have in mind we could all find ourselves swimming.” So Broxton kept a steady hand on the wheel as Ramsingh fiddled with the lines, making ready for the turn.

He grabbed another look behind. The twin anchors seemed to be aimed right between his eyes, chromed and glistening, so polished that they reflected, like a mirror, the few rays of sunlight that managed to sneak through the gray clouds.

“
Hold steady your course,” Ramsingh said, as the monstrous form of the boat behind filled his vision. “Eyes front,” Ramsingh said, and Broxton turned away from Sea King and faced Grenada’s south shore. “Steady, steady,” Ramsingh cautioned. Broxton felt like there were a million eyes shooting laser-like pin pricks up his back, but he held the boat steady as Ramsingh commanded.

“
Now!” Ramsingh screamed, and Broxton spun the wheel to the right as Ramsingh played the sheets. The wind from behind filled the jib and the boat heeled and picked up speed. Broxton risked a quick look back and shivered. Sea King slipped by, missing them by less than a yard.

“
Two strikes!” Dani yelled out across the space between their two boats. Broxton shivered again. She had been his friend his whole life through. He loved her. She was all he wanted. If only he could make her see the light. But the fleeting look he caught from her eyes as they flew past told his heart what he already knew in his head. There was no going back. Though he and Dani both lived, their friendship was dead. He loved her still, but there was nothing he could do about that.

“
We’re going to turn right again in a few minutes,” Ramsingh shouted, “so be ready.” He heard the voice, nodded to let Ramsingh know he understood, but he kept his eyes on Sea King and watched as Dani rushed around the wheel. The Texan took her place as she struggled at a winch, making ready to turn and give chase.

“
Did you make out what she said?” Ramsingh asked.

“
Two strikes,” Broxton said. “It’s from baseball.”

“
We play cricket here, but I know what it means.”

“
They’re coming around,” Broxton said.

“
And so are we. Turn now, right again, ninety degrees,” and again Ramsingh was at the sheets as the little boat bucked and turned through the churning seas. When the sail had come around to the other side and they had the land directly at their backs, Ramsingh said, “Turn a little more right, not too much.” Broxton obeyed as Ramsingh tightened sail. He stole a look at the knot meter. Seven and a half knots. The wind was across their left side now, blowing strong. They were heeled over, rails back in the water, headed back toward Trinidad, seventy-eight miles away, going full tilt, as fast as Gypsy Dancer was able to take them.

“
Will we be able to out run them?” Broxton said.

Ramsingh didn’t answer. His eyes were on Sea King as she made a clumsy and wide turn. But instead of stopping at ninety degrees as they had done, she kept coming around.

“
No!” Broxton screamed.

One second, Sea King was slicing through the water, a dangerously beautiful sight as she moved through the choppy seas, and the next she was stopped dead as she slammed into the rocks.

Ramsingh slackened sail and Gypsy Dancer straightened up and slowed to four knots. “Three strikes,” he said. “She’s out.”

And Broxton understood. Ramsingh had gambled that she would be so caught up in the chase that she’d forget about the rocks. While she was changing places with the Texan and struggling to turn the ship around, Ramsingh had him circling around the rocks. She’d been too busy to notice what they were doing.

“
We have to go back,” he said as the boat floundered.

“
No,” Ramsingh said, and Broxton watched in horror as a gaping hole opened in Sea King’s bow. In seconds she was on her side. Ramsingh looked away, tightened sail and cleated off the sheets. “We’re going back to Trinidad,” he said.

“
We can’t leave them,” Broxton said.

“
Sometimes a prime minister has to make life and death decisions,” he said. “This is the first time for me, and I hope the last. I hope in the end God will judge that I acted properly.”

“
She’ll die,” Broxton said.

“
And her father will go on to serve his president and the world. The Scorpion will kill no more. Warren will mourn his daughter and you and I will keep our silence. A beautiful young woman has died and the Scorpion has gone into retirement.”

“
I loved her,” Broxton said.

“
I know you did, son,” Ramsingh said, “and that saddens me, but it was the only way.”

Eleven hours later they sailed back into Trinidad racing the setting sun. The waters around the Bocas were unusually calm, the sea inside the gulf clear and flat, the wind silent. A yellow-orange sky greeted them as they dropped anchor. The sound of cheerful pan music floated across the anchorage, but it failed to lift Broxton’s heart.

Dani was dead and he’d had a hand in the killing. There was no other way. He knew that, but still she was gone. He felt like the light had gone out of the world.

Chapter Twenty

“
Hey, how’s it going?” Broxton said. “I called your room. When you didn’t answer I thought I’d come out here and check.” Maria was finishing dinner at a table by the pool. Two of the other three chairs were full of shopping bags and there were more under the table. He pulled out the empty chair and sat down.

“
I’m getting by. I got on with Iberia. I start in a week.” Her smile was genuine. She looked happy. “How’s the protection business?”

“
Finished,” he said. “They got the bad guys, so they no longer need my services.”

“
Where does that leave you?”

“
They’ve offered me a field assignment. Here. I’ll be working out of the embassy for a year. Then I suppose they’ll rotate me.”

“
So you’re a field agent now?”

“
Looks like it.”

“
How do you feel about that?”

“
It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

“
Then I’m glad for you.”

“
Enough about me. What did you do, buy out the city?”

“
No, it’s all fabric. I’m a seamstress in my spare time. I make quilts.”

“
So much,” he said, looking at the bags.

“
Port of Spain must be the fabric capitol of the world. I’ve never seen so many fabric shops. I couldn’t help myself. Give a girl a credit card and you know what happens.”

He laughed as he subconsciously took the ring out of his pocket and started playing with it.

“
There’s that ring again,” she said.

“
I guess I’ve given up on her,” he said.

“
Really?”

“
Yeah,” he said. Dani was dead, but there was no way he could tell her that. He turned toward the pool.

“
You’re not?” she said.

“
I am,” he said, and with a flick of the wrist he sent the engagement ring spiraling and sparkling toward the deep end of the pool.

“
That was very foolish,” she said.

“
Better to have loved and lost.”

“
But you haven’t lost yet,” she said.

“
Ramsingh has a mantra he repeats to himself when the going gets tough. ‘Never give up. Never quit,’ but the battle has to be winnable.”

“
What do you mean?”

“
Dani and I were best friends growing up. She was one of the guys. She was the one I could tell everything to, but I think that’s all we were ever meant to be, best friends. Even that’s over now.”

“
Never lovers?” Maria said.

“
We never were,” Broxton said.

“
Really? I thought—”

“
Can you think of a better way to ruin a perfectly good friendship?”

“
I think maybe it can make a friendship even stronger. Something that can last forever. What could be better than your lover being your best friend? I think that would be very nice.”

“
I suppose, if you found the right woman. Dani obviously wasn’t the right one for me.”

“
Can you help me carry these up to my room?” she asked.

“
Sure,” he said.

“
Then let’s go,” she said, pushing herself from the table. She stood, brushed her hair back with her fingers, then picked up several of the bags. He picked up the rest and followed her toward the lobby and the elevators.

At her room she slipped the plastic card key into the door. She reached out to open it when the green light on the lock told them it was okay to enter, but the door jerked open before her hand touched the knob.

“
Bring the bags inside and set them down, then walk to the bed and put your ass on the mattress, Mr. Broxton. You too, Maria.” The voice commanded obedience, and the gun in his right hand backed it up.

“
You?” Broxton said.

“
Me,” Earl said. “Surprised?”

“
Very,” Broxton said.

“
You know each other?” Maria said.

“
He’s the man that tried to kill Prime Minister Ramsingh in Venezuela,” Broxton said.

“
He’s also my husband,” Maria said.

“
Curious,” Broxton said.

“
And that’s the way you’re going to stay,” Earl said. Broxton tensed his legs and gauged the distance between them, two quick steps, but Earl seemed to be daring him to try it and Broxton knew he’d be dead before he closed half the gap.

“
Sit,” Earl said. “Only you, Broxton. Maria, get a glass of water out of the bathroom.”

“
Get it yourself.”

“
Come on, baby, we both know I can be difficult if I get upset, so don’t get me angry and make me do something I’ll be sorry for.” He was talking softly, but he was a man on the edge and any second he was going over.

“
Do as he says, Maria,” Broxton said, sitting.

“
You don’t scare me anymore, Earl.”

“
Baby, if you don’t hustle your buns into that bathroom, I’m going to put a bullet into lover boy’s stomach, then we’ll see how much I can scare you.”

She went into the bathroom and got the water. “What do you want me to do with it?”

“
Put your ass next to his,” he said, as he fished a bottle of pills out of his shirt pocket. “These won’t kill you, but they’ll put you right out.” He tossed the bottle toward them and Broxton snatched it out of the air with a quick left handed catch. “Four for you, Mr. Broxton. Two for my wife.”

“
How do we know they’re not poison?” Maria said.

“
You don’t, baby, but it’s the pills or a bullet.”

“
What are they?” Broxton asked.

“
How should I know? She gave ’em to me and told me if you got in the way to drug you up till it was over. She wants you alive, remember?”

“
She tried to sink us,” Broxton said.

“
That was then, this is now.”

“
How’d you get away?”

“
You were so busy turning tail and leaving us to die that you didn’t notice when she lowered the dinghy into the water. We grabbed her get-away-bag and sailed into this nice little bay. Three hours later we were on a plane for Port of Spain. We probably beat you back.”