Dungeness and Dragons

by William Cook

  So many things were still unclear, and Michail wasn’t far enough up the food chain to answer all her questions. Foremost in her mind—Who exactly is Ethan, and why is he being kept here, forbidden to leave Roche Harbor? Of course, that begged the question of who the real boss of this whole operation was. If Michail knew, he wasn’t saying.

  She also wondered about the big party a week and a half ago, ten miles out to sea. Ethan had been so concerned about it that he had given her a sedative to ensure she couldn’t do anything to disrupt the proceedings. Especially curious to her was his comment that he wasn’t going to the party, that he would leave before the boat embarked and would be sitting it out in the lounge at the hotel.

  Michail’s remarks had been even more mysterious.

  “They all came dressed in expensive-looking clothes—mostly men, but some women. We set sail. Someone arrived in a helicopter. A few hours later, after a fancy dinner and drinks, the helicopter took off, and we returned to the harbor. Everyone left with a heavy briefcase or a piece of rolling luggage.”

  “What’s in the cases?”

  He shook his head. “All I know is that they were the last of the cases the crabbers delivered when they brought you to us on New Year’s Eve.”

  She had no time to solve Elysium’s secrets. Today her focus was on getting off this scow, come hell or high water. She hated to hurt Michail, but she had no choice. He had been her unwitting accomplice in all this, providing her with the structural intel she needed to put a plan together. Out the door to the elevator. Into the elevator to reach the deck above. Turn left to the end of the hallway and the linen closet on the right. Switch into the black garb of the wait staff. Back out to the hallway and to the second door on the left. Out onto the promenade and down the gangway onto the dock. Force herself to walk, not run, not drawing attention to herself, a staff person seeking some needed supply from the hotel, praying Ethan wasn’t looking out the lounge windows toward the harbor. To the Service Entrance around back. Call a cab for the twenty-minute drive to Friday Harbor and the ferry back to Anacortes on the Washington mainland.

  She had debated the last step with herself for days. Should she call the police immediately and blow the whistle on everything? But how likely was it that someone with the wealth to own a super yacht like Elysium owned at least someone on the police force as well? Better to put distance between herself and Ethan, to get to the ferry and off this damned island. Although she could take the hotel shuttle to Friday Harbor, that meant she would have to enter the main lobby and risk that Ethan might see her. She would stay out back. She vowed to trust only herself.

  As 3:15 P.M. approached, the time Michail had told her the staff would begin preparations for the evening meal, she made ready. That was also the time that the guard at the bottom of the gangway put a NO ADMITTANCE chain across the gangway and took his coffee and bathroom break. She removed blouses from one of the smaller closet poles and slid the pole from its sockets. Swinging it about, she liked the heft of it and guessed it was either oak or teak. She stood it in the corner behind the door. Next, she took off her high heels and her dress and tip-toed to the door. I bait the trap with bra and panties, she told herself.

  “Oh, Michail? Can you come in for a minute?”

  “It is getting late. Ethan will be back soon.”

  “This won’t take long. Open the door.”

  The guard complied. As the door swung open, he eyed her appreciatively. “You are a temptress, but we have no time.”

  “You’re right. We don’t have to do the deed now, but just come in for sixty seconds and stand by the bed. Now close your eyes. I have a surprise for you.” She picked up the closet pole and struck him in the head with all the force she could muster. With a resounding crack, the pole broke in half, and the man crumpled in a heap to the floor. “I’m so sorry, Michail,” she whispered. “I never wanted to hurt you, but I can’t stay here.” She rifled through his pockets, removing his phone, his keys, and his wallet. She grabbed a pair of casual shoes from the closet, locked the door on the way out, and sprinted to the elevator.

  “C’mon. C’mon.” She bounced up and down as she waited for the elevator doors to open. What if someone else is on the elevator? What am I going to do? The doors opened on an empty chamber and she rode up one deck. When it came to a stop, she peeked out into an empty hallway. Lucky, lucky, lucky.

  Down the hall she went to the linen closet. Slipping inside, she closed the door with as little sound as she could. Two rows of packed shelves stretched the length of the room. Towels. Bedsheets. Where’s the friggin’ uniforms? There they were at the very end. Sorting through them, she found a set that looked as though it would fit. She pulled on the pants, slid into the shirt, and put on the shoes she had brought with her. Opening Michail’s wallet, she found $120 in bills and jammed the money into her pocket. Fare for the cab and the ferry. She stuffed the wallet and phone and keys under a pile of towels and opened the door.

  Suddenly voices. She withdrew into the closet and turned off the light. She had no weapon. Her heart began to pound. I bit off an ear before—maybe I’ll get a nose this time. Surprise was still her best defense, so she positioned herself right by the door, ready to leap out if it opened. Instead, she heard the elevator doors open and close, and the voices diminished.

  Patricia exhaled and tried to still her racing heart. Escape from Elysium, take two. She opened the door and zipped toward the exit. Out onto the promenade. There was the gangway. The urge to run was almost overpowering. She made two fists and dug her nails into her palms. Walk, she commanded herself.

  Down the gangway, one step at a time. Over the chain. Once out from under the protective canopy, she was on the dock and in a downpour of rain. The clouds overhead looked like charcoal smudges on an artist’s canvas. Why hadn’t I thought about the weather? Who goes out on a day like this without a coat? There was nothing for it but to keep walking. In seconds, she was soaked to the skin and shivering in the cold. But every step took her farther from her prison. Every step took her closer to freedom.

  She steered clear of the main entrance and took the paved walk around to the back. Two men in one-piece work outfits were unloading groceries from a delivery truck through the service entrance. One accosted her as she attempted to get around them.

  “Looks like you got caught, Missie.”

  She wheeled around. Her voice broke. “Wh-what?”

  “In the rain. Looks like you got caught in the rain, unless you’re in the habit of showering in your clothes.”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m soaked. Can’t wait to get into some dry clothes.”

  Once inside, she was entangled in the busy hub-bub of people scurrying back and forth, wheeling carts laden with dry goods, meats, and cheeses, hurrying to storage lockers and kitchens and pantries. She stopped one young woman who had just discharged her bundles and was dashing back to the truck.

  “Sorry to bother you, but is there a taxi service you’d recommend to get me to Friday Harbor?”

  “You look like a drowned rat, for god’s sake! You swim in those clothes?”

  “Got caught in the storm. Now I gotta get something pronto at Friday. For Elysium.”

  “I thought your uniform looked familiar. What the hell do they want at Friday?”

  “Don’t get me started. It’s been one of those days. Please. A cab?”

  “Sure, I got it on my phone.” She withdrew the phone from her back pocket and made the call. “Yeah. I need a cab at Haro as soon as you can make it. Come to the Service Entrance around back.” She ended the call and looked at Patricia. “It’s done. What’s your name?”

  She hesitated. “Terry. Only been on Elysium a few weeks, and I’m not making a very good impression.”

  “I’m Donna, and between you and me, they’re just a bunch of rich fucks out there on that boat. Pay ’em no mind. Anyway, I’ve gotta get back to work. Your ride should be here in a half an hour.”

  “Thanks, Donna. I’ll stay ou
t of your way.”

  She walked farther down the hallway, shivering with cold, retreating from the draft that blew through the open service door. She paced back and forth, stopping only to blow some warm breath into her hands. Was she going to make it? Was she going to get off this godforsaken island? And how would she keep herself from the clutches of those two crazy brothers, Paul and Gideon? They would be after her as soon as they were told she had escaped. Too much to think about at one time!

  Once all the deliveries had been completed, she walked back along the hallway toward the closed door. Both sides were lined with the empty carts that had been used to bring the shipment in. Every few minutes, she opened the door to check for the cab. Ten minutes later, a yellow Prius pulled up. Just then, a voice behind her.

  “Hey! Wait!” A man in a dark suit began sprinting down the hallway toward her.

  “Stay away from me, you fucker! I’m not going back to Ethan!” She pushed several of the wheeled carts into the middle of the hallway to slow him down and bolted out the door. Crashes and grunting erupted behind her as she ran to the car. She leaped into the back seat and yelled at the driver.

  “Go! Go! Now! He’s after me! He wants to kill me!”

  The young Hispanic driver turned around. “Who wants to kill you, lady?”

  “Get us out of here, you dumb fuck, or he’ll kill you, too!”

  The man chasing her was out the door and running to the car. He opened the back door and tried to climb in. “Patricia, wait!”

  Patricia lashed out with both feet, kicking him in the face. He fell backward, losing his grip on the door. The driver floored the accelerator. As the car sped away, he turned again to his passenger.

  “Who the hell was that? And why is he trying to kill you?”

  “I don’t know who he is. Probably one of Ethan’s stooges. Get me to Friday Harbor as fast as you can. I gotta get the ferry outta here.” She looked out the back window and saw her pursuer get up off the ground and start running toward the parking lot.

  “Jesus, lady! We should call the cops!” He squinted ahead through the driving rain.

  “No! They may be in on it. Just take me to the ferry. Fast. I’ve got cash.”

  She kept looking behind but didn’t see any other cars following them. What if he had called ahead to somebody at the dock? “Can’t you make this thing go any faster?”

  “You want me to get pulled over? You didn’t want me to call the police.” He turned on the defroster to clear the front windshield. “I’m Carlos, by the way. What’s your name?”

  “Carol. Sorry, but I’m scared shitless. I just gotta get on that boat.”

  “No problem.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll get you there with about five minutes to spare before it leaves.”

  “Sounds good.” Her ragged breathing began to calm, and her heart resumed a more normal rhythm. She withdrew sixty dollars from her pocket. “Will this cover it?”

  “That’ll do nicely.” The man grabbed the cash and stuffed it in the front of his shirt. “That gets you the premium service.”

  What do I do when I get to Anacortes? I can’t take a cab all the way back to Neskowin. I can’t rent a car without a credit card or driver’s license. It’s either hitch a ride or check out buses and trains. She grimaced at the thought of what monster might pick up a young woman hitching a ride to Oregon. OK. A bus or a train.

  She was lost in her own thoughts, oblivious of attempts by Carlos to engage her in conversation. The terrible things I’ve done to survive. Will I ever be clean again? She ran her hands down her thighs, as though wiping something offensive from them. As her eyes filled with tears, she looked at the hands in her lap. Did I kill Michail? Is murder another of my sins? Suddenly, her reveries were interrupted by his voice.

  “Here we are. It hasn’t left yet. Get your ticket over there.” He pointed toward a kiosk.

  “Thank you, Carlos.”

  “Well, it’s not every day I get to save a pretty woman’s life. Now get going.”

  She leaped from the cab and sprinted to the kiosk. In minutes she was onboard, relishing the heat, standing by the window in the enclosed section, looking back toward the dock. A voice came over the intercom.

  “Ladies and gentlemen. There will be a short delay before we leave for the mainland. We’ll get going as soon as we can.”

  Delay? Has that bastard called ahead? As she looked out the window, she saw a black sedan speeding down the dock. It stopped until it got the signal that it was OK to board. She couldn’t be sure in the rain, but she thought she saw the driver clutching a white handkerchief to his head. The sonofabitch I kicked in the face!

  Her stomach tied itself in knots, and she gasped for breath. Where could she hide on a boat like this? She wondered about sneaking into an empty car on the deck below. That risked exposure to her pursuer when any empty cars were probably locked. This deck was wide open, with rows of benches and nowhere to hide. The only place she could lock herself into was the bathroom.

  With her mind made up, she ran to the women’s restroom, locked the door, and hunkered down in the corner. She felt the walls and floor tremble slightly and presumed the ferry was leaving the dock. Pulling her knees up to her chin, she rocked back and forth. I can’t have come all this way just to be trapped in a goddamn bathroom! Ten minutes passed. A knock on the door. A man’s voice.

  “Patricia, I know you’re in there. Nowhere else you can be on this boat. You didn’t break my nose, by the way, but you came pretty close. It’s only just now stopped bleeding.”

  She withdrew farther into the corner and didn’t make a sound. Go away! her mind screamed.

  “We need to talk, and not through a closed door like this where other people can overhear us. I don’t expect you to trust me, but I’m on your side.” When no response was forthcoming, he tried again. “Police Officer Charley Whitehorse in Driftwood is your friend. He’s been trying to find you since you were kidnapped last Christmas by Paul and Gideon Drake. He told me to tell you he found the strands of hair you left in the warehouse in Depoe Bay and got a DNA match. He said to tell you Gideon is dead. We’re not sure where Paul is yet.”

  Patricia unlocked the door and opened it. “You make a move toward me, and I’ll scream so loud your eardrums will pop. And it won’t be your nose that gets kicked next time.” She looked at his gray eyes, his brown hair, the square set of his jaw, the dark coat he was wearing.

  The man backed off, holding his hands before him as if to ward off an attack. “I believe you. You are some badass, but I guess you have to be to have survived this long. If we keep our voices down we can sit in the back row here.”

  They sat on the hard wooden bench. Patricia kept enough distance between them to be safe from a quick attack with a knife. “Who are you?” Her voice was ragged and cold.

  “A friend of Charley Whitehorse, the policeman in Driftwood who hasn’t given up on finding you.” He sighed. “That guy never gives up. Saved my life once, so I owe him big-time.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his nose. “Yep. Bleeding’s stopped.” He put the cloth back in his pocket. “Anyway, Charley said he didn’t have enough evidence to get a search warrant for Elysium, but was pretty sure it was used in your kidnapping. Asked if I could scope things out for him—unofficially, mind you. I’m a retired cop from Tacoma, and I thought a vacation at Haro would be a hoot. Been watching that boat from my hotel room for hours every day for the past two weeks. Know how tired your eyes get looking through binoculars all that time?” He rubbed his eyes as if to emphasize his point.

  “What did you find out?”

  “Not a whole lot. Weird freaking party a while back. Lots of fancy dudes and babes, all dressed up to the nines. Boat went out for a few hours. Came back in. Everybody left with a briefcase or roller bag that they didn’t get on with.” He shook his head back and forth. “Did you go to the party?”

  “Hell, no. I was locked in a stateroom, completely snowed with some shit E
than gave me.”

  “Who’s this Ethan? You yelled his name when I was chasing you.”

  “He’s the reason I was kidnapped. To be his sex toy. I guess I’ve made him happy enough that he hasn’t killed me yet like I suspect he has the others.”

  “The others?”

  “Yeah. Didn’t this Charley Whitehorse guy tell you that?”

  “No. He was pretty much focused on you. Sent me your picture so I recognized you in your black outfit, coming down the dock in all the rain. Speaking of which…” He pulled off his winter coat and handed it to her. “Put this on until you stop shivering. You’re making me cold just looking at you.”

  “Thanks.” She put on the heavy coat and began to feel better. “So, I’m safe? I’ve made it?”

  “You’re not out of the woods yet. Charley told me to be real careful.” He lowered his voice. “He can’t prove it, but he thinks this real bad dude is involved in this. You ever hear the name Vasily Volkov on the boat?”

  “Nope. Who’s he?”

  “Head of the Russian mob in Portland. Every cop in the Pacific Northwest knows about him. If he owns Elysium, we’ll have to keep under the radar.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, if he wanted you to be this Ethan fella’s playmate, and he finds out you’ve skipped, he’ll have a damned army after you.”

  Patricia felt her heart sink. Tears welled up in her eyes.

  “Hey! Hey! I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that we’ll have to be on our toes. Besides…” He pulled back his suitcoat to reveal his shoulder holster. “This will help us even the odds.”

  She smiled. “I don’t even know your name.”

  “Dallas. Just like the city.”

  “Well, Dallas-Just-Like-The-City, what’s our next move? You gonna arrest Ethan?”

  “I’m retired. Remember? I’ll pass this case on to my friends on the force, and let them do it right. Meanwhile, I’ve gotta get you home.”

  “You gonna put me on a bus or a train?”

  “Hell, no. If the Russians are on to you, they’ll have all the terminals staked out. In fact, I won’t be surprised if they’re waiting for you at the dock when we pull into Anacortes. But I’ll bet they don’t know about me yet. We’ll drive off this ferry in my car, and they’ll be none the wiser.”