Terror Stash (24 page)

“Plant another one, then,” Steve insisted.

“I’d have to get unsupervised access to one of the PCs in the consulate. That isn’t going to happen anymore, Steve. Not after yesterday. Not after tonight.”

“But you do know ways to hack into the network without planting a worm, don’t you?” Caden asked, surprising her.

“Yes, but I couldn’t be subtle doing it. They’d know instantly they’d been hacked. They’d find me. A worm sneaks in through the keyhole. To hack in like you’re suggesting is like blowing down the whole door. They’d notice it immediately. They’d see me.”

Caden shrugged. “Steal your boss’s passwords then.”

“That’s Nelson we’re talking about?” Steve asked.

“That’s him.”

“He’s a prick,” Steve said with surprising fierceness. “I agree. Steal his bloody passwords.”

Even though she knew it would be ridiculously easy to do it, even though using his passwords would hide her tracks across the network, she hesitated. Deep reluctance dragged at her.

“Hey, Montana, it’s not like your career was going to survive the last two days, anyway,” Caden pointed out.

She’d known that at gut level, although this was the first time anyone had dared say it aloud.

“So what is this, then?” he added.

“I...so far, I haven’t committed a crime against the US. I’ve bent a lot of local laws, and Steve could probably argue that I’ve broken some of them if he was of a mind to. But I haven’t done anything to harm the States. And I can’t. I just can’t.”

“Planting a worm isn’t harming?” Steve asked.

“I was just looking for information.”

“You will be this time, too.”

“But I’ll be taking something from Nelson to do it.”

“You and your ideals.” Caden shook his head. “You’re mixing it up again, just like last time. There’s no such thing as loyalty to a country, remember? It’s the people in that country that make you want to give up your life for them.”

She thought of Vinnie-too. “I remember.”

“You should know, then, that Nelson phoned me,” Steve said. “He wanted to know if you really were pregnant, or if you were pulling a swift one.”

“So that makes him a prince of a boss. So what?”

“How bad do you want to stop these guys, Montana?” Caden’s tone was reasonable. “Six people dead...how much more convincing do you need that they really mean business?”

“Stop it, both of you. Just stop it. You don’t understand the position I’m in.”

Caden shook his head. “That’s the problem with westerners. No backbone. Soon as the crunch comes you start wailing about principles. You’re never willing to pay the price for what you want.”

Montana halted and spun to face him, her fury boiling up. “Why don’t you just shove that holier-than-thou attitude up your ass, Rawn? You know next to nothing about me. You have no idea how I’ve paid for this life of mine. None at all. You’re a westerner, too. What price have
you
paid for your fucking ideals?”

It was like a dark cloud passed across the sun. The shadow rippled over his face, and was instantly gone, but it left an old, old man sadly looking at her with Caden’s eyes. “You really don’t want to know,” he said softly.

“Keep walking,” Steve said softly, reminding them.

She turned and started walking again. She was breathless, her chest heaving, and the wind kept whipping her hair into her eyes.

After a long silence, Steve cleared his throat. “This thing is too big. I think that’s what we all feel. Even if Montana hacked into the network and we identified the men we’ve seen, we’re still just three people with no official backup and no real proof except what we swear we’ve seen. Problem is that as soon as we step forward with what we’ve seen, it proves to them that we’ve been lying to their faces for the last two days.”

“What if we did it together. All three of us?” Montana said.

“Maybe,” Steve said doubtfully.

“No,” Caden said the same time. “Not the police, not the US consulate. I told you there were things in my life...I can’t go to either of them as Caden Rawn. I can’t be processed in any way.”

Montana filed his answer for later consideration. They were on the downward slope now, heading for the river estuary laid out below. There was a single boat on the ocean, bobbing just in front of the sand bank that cut off the river from the sea all year around except when winter rains spilled out over the top.

She turned to Steve. “What if we went to the police? You’re one of them. They’d believe you.”

Steve shook his head. “If Caden gets near them, they’ll arrest him, disbelieve the rest and consider it a good day’s work.”

“A higher appeal, then. The District Inspector?”

“He’s six months away from retirement. He’d never jump to action on my say so. You’ve been prying around on foreign soil. On Australian soil. He’ll just make sure you get booted out of the country.” He kicked at the beach sand they were walking through now, irritable. “Besides, even if by some miracle I convinced both my sergeant and the Inspector of what’s happening, and they went in there with all guns blazing, they’d all get slaughtered. These are small-town cops and as much as I love ‘em, I know what they are. You need Special Forces. People who know how to handle themselves, who know what these cave dwellers are capable of.”

Caden gave a half smile, like he was amused. “What is it you’re not telling us? What happened back in that cave that’s eating you so bad you gotta take it out on the ladies?”

“I’m not the only one doing that,” Steve shot back.

Caden had the grace to grimace. “True,” he agreed. “But we all know what my problem is.”

Steve sighed. “That goddam cave. It’s so obvious I could kick myself.”

“
Help! Help me, pleeease!”

The faint cry came from the water. Caden turned to face the waves, peering at the solitary boat out past the breakers.

“It’s listing,” Montana judged.

The waves fell back, the noise of their passage receding and they heard it again.
“I don’t want to die! Please! Help! Arrabella! I love you!”

“Look how low it is in the water.” Montana patted her jeans pocket. “My cell phone is in Steve’s car.” She started undoing her laces.

Steve took a deep breath. “I can’t swim,” he told them, pushing it out. They both looked at him, startled.

“An Australian who doesn’t swim,” Montana said, dumbfounded.

“I grew up on a station out the back of Carnarvon, alright? Water deeper than a bath wasn’t part of my childhood.”

“I’ll go,” Caden said, reaching for his boots.

“Don’t be stupid,” Montana said.

“The Marine Patrol can help him,” Steve added.

“We’ll both go,” Caden said. “One can use the radio to call the Marine Patrol, the other can take care of him.”

As if he’d heard, the man’s voice wavered across the water.
“Heeelp! Someone. Anyone!”

Caden dumped his boot onto the sand.

“I thought you couldn’t afford to be processed by authority?” Steve said mildly.

Caden turned on him. “I should just let him drown?” He was utterly outraged.

“Okay, okay.” Steve held up his hand. “People, right?”

“Believe it,” Caden muttered, dumping the other boot.

“Do you have any cuts?” Montana interrupted.

“What?”

“Cuts. Are you bleeding anywhere?”

He looked mystified, but she didn’t have time to explain. She headed for the water at a run.

They hit the water and the cold took all Caden’s attention.

Montana surged over the low waves like an otter and dived under the big seventh wave.

He took a breath, slid beneath the wall of water and pushed forward against the surge of sand and seawater, hearing the roll of the surf like a roar in his mind. Then he was up on the other side, beyond the breakers, bobbing on the swells. On this side, he could clearly hear the man’s cries. Terror throbbed in every broken call, mixed with longing for the absent Arrabella.

Caden trod water for a moment, orienting himself. Then the depth of the water coupled up with her odd question. Sharks. She had been thinking about sharks. That’s why she’d checked for blood.

He shivered and struck out across the water after Montana. She was swimming strongly towards the boat with an economic style that would give a swimmer endurance rather than speed.

The boat was a double-decked luxury craft, maybe thirty-two foot long. He’d seen plenty of them in the Keys, the Mediterranean, even the Caspian Sea. There’d be a master cabin in the bows and a kitchen/lounge area all fitted out with brass and polished wood. The navigation deck/cockpit would have the latest in sonar and radio communications and a canopy to protect its rich owner’s head from the elements. All layers of padding against the open sea. Why they even bothered leaving land....

He swam towards the boat anyway, because Montana was right—it was clearly listing, with its nose down in the water. In between strokes, whenever the water wasn’t in his ears, Caden could hear the owner still calling piteously for Arrabella, for rescue.

By the time he reached the boat, Montana had already heaved herself up over the side and onto the deck. No point trying the diving ladder at the stern. With the bow dipped so sharply, the ladder was up out of the water.

He gripped the gunwales and flexed, bringing himself up over the edge, streaming seawater. He landed in another four inches of it.

“Sir, can you hear me? Sir!” Montana was up in the cockpit already.

“Help me!” he cried.

“We will,” she assured him. “What happened? Where are the life vests?”

Caden sloshed through the water to the ladder and began to climb.

“Vests?” the owner queried.

This close, Caden could hear the effects of alcohol in his speech. “Booze and boats, god save me.” He stepped onto the cockpit deck.

“I’m afraid it’s even better than that,” Montana said softly. She stepped aside to reveal Arrabella’s admirer. The man was slouched in the captain’s chair and all three hundred pounds of him was wrapped in anchor chain. He stared up at Caden with eyes that showed bloodshot.

“Jesus wept! He’s tied up like a goddamn turkey!” Caden said. He stared at the spaghetti nest of chains.

“There’s a padlock here.” Montana rattled the big lock, up by the man’s right hand, which was strapped to his chest by the steel. He’d clearly done the wrapping himself and contrived to snap the padlock shut with the limited motion of his hand.

“Where’s the key?” Caden demanded.

The man swallowed audibly. “I don’t...know,” he whimpered. Then he threw his head back and bellowed to the sky; “Arrabella! My love!! My ooonly love!!”

Caden rolled his eyes. The man was smashed. Totally.

Then the whole boat groaned beneath their feet and the deck tilted another degree or two towards the bow. “Well, we’ll just have to untangle the chains,” he decided. “If he did it himself, then it can’t be that difficult to undo.”

“I’ll call the police.” Montana turned to the thick stack of electronic equipment and began turning dials and snapping switches.

Caden traced out the chains. If he could find where they were anchored to the boat, he could release that point, and they could pull the guy off the sinking boat, chains and all. “What’s your name, big guy?” he asked, ducking his head beneath the swivel chair to map out the flow of chains.

“Patrick?” His booze-soaked speech made it sound like a question.

Above him, Caden heard Montana speaking into the handset. Her voice was calm, measured.

“So, Patrick...you sink your own boat while you’re still on it. I’m guessing you’re not doing it for the insurance.”

There was a pause while Patrick processed that. “I wanted to die...y’know?” He belched loudly. “Arrabella!...I didn’t mean it!!”

Montana crouched beside him. “The police are on their way.”

Caden pushed back on his heels, to see under the chair. “These chains go down to the deck.”

The deck tilted a little more, the timbers groaning ever more loudly under the unnatural strain.

“We’ve got to get this boat evened out,” she declared, and got to her feet. “You fix the chains. I’ll fix the leak.”

Caden clambered down the ladder while above him he heard Montana speak. “Patrick. Patrick, you have to listen now. How were you going to sink the boat? What did you do?”

Again, the long silence while Patrick constructed his answer. “The captain’s cabin. The honeymoon suite, y’know?”

“You were getting married?” she guessed.

To Arrabella
. Caden shook his head as some of the pieces fell into place.

“A-rra-bell-a!!” Patrick wailed piteously.

“Patrick.
Patrick
! Stay with me now. Are you listening? Patrick?”

Another belch. “Yeah, I’m ah-listening.”

“What did you do in the captain’s cabin? Did you loosen the seacocks? How are you bringing water onboard?”

“Axe, man. Right through the middle of the bed. Yup. Destroyed the sumbitch.” Another silence. “Had to do it three bloody times. Floor underneath. Then another one ‘neath that.” A hiccup. “Then the water came in.”

“Did you shut the door, Patrick?” Her question was softly put. “When you left, did you shut the door of the cabin?”

Smart question. She was guessing the cabin wall was a watertight bulkhead. If it was, then it explained why the boat was dipping at the bow. All the water was building up in the cabin, dammed up behind the wall. It was possible the boat wouldn’t sink much further once the cabin was fully flooded.

Then Caden found the other end of the chains flowing from the cockpit above. “Well, I’ll be...”

“What is it?” Montana asked sharply.

“Arrabella...!” Patrick crooned.

“The chains run down below decks. I think he’s pulled them out of the anchor hold and left the end of the chains bolted to the bulkhead. If I can get to the hold, then I can maybe unscrew the bolts.” He didn’t bother mentioning that there was a good chance the bolts were rusted into place and a blowtorch wouldn’t move them. He’d worry about that later.

“I’m sorry, Arrabella! Forgive me!”