“Okay, then, take off them shorts.”
She breathed in, held her breath for a few seconds and ran the tip of her tongue around her lips. Then looking down she popped the button and eased the zipper down revealing her suntanned belly and the dark purple nylon of her bikini panties. She eased the khaki shorts past her thighs and all the way down to her calves. She stepped out of them by stepping forward and then tossed the shorts through the doorway into the aft stateroom. The gap between her and Spyder had closed by a few more inches.
“I’ve never undressed with someone pointing a gun at me before,” she said, trying to smile at him. “It’s kind of exciting.”
He waved the gun at her chest. “Now take off your shirt.”
She looked down at his crotch. “I think I should take your shorts off first.” She took another step toward him and now the barrel of the gun was no more then ten inches from her breastbone.
“Bitch, you gonna git naked and do everything I tell you to do – but don’t do nothin’ stupid,” he said.
She kept her eyes on his and thought that this whole idea might turn out to be one of the stupidest things she’d ever done, but she knew she had to get close enough to get control of the gun. “You’re the one with his finger on the trigger. Seems to me I should be the one worrying.” She took another step forward and brushed the fingers of her right hand across the front of his jeans.
He moaned and his eyes rolled out of focus.
She raised her left hand and let it rest on his right shoulder at the same time her fingers danced up and unbuttoned the top button of his jeans. As she lowered the zipper with her right hand, her left hand slid down his right arm. Riley could tell from his breathing which hand he was focusing on. When her right hand reached his wrist, she made her move.
It was only a matter of seconds, but to Riley, it seemed that the world had slowed and the three of them moved like dancers through that small space in her cabin. Riley thrust her left hand down over his gun hand at the exact same instant she pivoted her right shoulder backwards, around and away from the front of the barrel so that in an instant she was standing next to him, no longer between the two men.
Spyder’s surprise at her movement caused his reflexes to pull the trigger, but because his reactions were slowed by her distractions, she was out of the way when the gun went off. It sounded as though the pop of the gunshot and Pinky’s high-pitched scream occurred at exactly the same moment. The pudgy man, who had been standing behind her, crumpled to the floor, both hands gripping his left knee, a red stain growing on his white pants. She heard Spyder cry out his brother’s name, but without stopping the fluid movement she had started, Riley guided the forward momentum of Spyder’s gun hand down, then she bent his wrist around in an upward curve until the barrel pointed at the man’s own chin. He was still screaming and struggling to get the gun away from his head when it went off. Riley let go of his hand and jumped back in surprise.
There was a second of silence after the shot, then Pinky screamed “Spyder!” when his brother toppled sideways against the door to the aft head. The man’s eyes were open, but unseeing. His mouth continued to open and close like that of a gaffed fish gasping for air on deck. Blood seeped from the ragged hole in the soft tissue under his chin and trickled from the corner of his mouth, but she saw no evidence of an exit wound. In straining to get his hand free, Spyder had pulled the trigger himself.
She stood in the galley, backed up against the stove, and she felt her body trembling. Spyder’s sprawled legs twitched and blocked the bottom of the stairs. Though it would be easy enough to step over the legs, it meant she would have to approach him, and she was certain that if she had to get closer to that gasping thing on the floor right now, she would be sick.
She wished the other one would stop his wailing. She craned her neck to see past the galley counter. Pinky had crabbed his way across the cabin sole by pulling his useless leg with one hand, while he pushed his hefty body forward with his good leg. She looked at Spyder. His mouth had stopped moving. Pinky got a hand on his brother’s shoe and pulled. Both men slid across the floor toward each other.
The gun. Where was it? It had to be under Spyder. That was what Pinky was after: the gun.
Pinky rolled Spyder’s body over and she saw the gun at the same time he did. Riley placed her right foot on the bottom step and pushed her body straight up into the air. She came down putting all her weight on her heel that landed on the back of Pinky’s left hand. She felt the bones of his hand crack. Pinky screamed even louder, a high-pitched inhuman sound now. He grabbed her leg with his right hand and pulled her down on top of him. She fell away from the gun, but when she turned around and got to her feet, the screaming had fallen to a moaning whimper and Pinky was lying on the cabin sole propped up on one elbow, his right hand pointing the Ruger at her.
Beads of sweat covered his face, and where there had been splotches of pink color, now his skin was a uniform pale gray. “You’re gonna get me to a doctor,” he said. He spoke in a hiss through gritted teeth. With his good leg, he pushed himself up until his rump rested on the lowest step. She saw the pain on his face, and she didn’t know how he was doing it. His left hand hung limp and useless. One at a time, he pulled himself up the three steps and dragged himself out into the cockpit.
“Get a dish towel and throw it to me.” Pinky was breathing hard and the pain was making it difficult for him to speak.
She followed his orders, grabbing the towel that was hanging on her oven door, and tossed it up to him. He tried to rip the towel by holding one end with his gun hand and the other in his teeth, but he was too weak. He tried folding the towel on the diagonal with his broken hand, but the fingers flapped loose and lifeless. She saw how his good hand shook. He was losing a lot of blood from the wound in his knee.
“You - come up here.” She could barely make out his slurred words. “Get your dinghy. Take me t’a doctor.”
At that moment, the radio burst to life again. “Bonefish, Bonefish, this is Shadow Chaser, do you read me Riley?”
The gun in his hand jerked up and his eyes widened. “Get away from there,” he said.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m not going to answer it.” She had to shout so he could hear her over the sound of Cole’s voice. “I’m going to come out into the cockpit now and help you.”
She could see how weak he was, but something inside her told her that this one was even more dangerous than Spyder. He wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. She had to make sure it wasn’t pointed at her.
Pinky was sitting on the starboard seat, and she came up under his gun hand, her elbows locked pushing it straight up. He fired one shot that pierced her canvas dodger. He wouldn’t let go. She was using both of her good hands against his one arm, and yet she was struggling to hold her own. Her scarred shoulder burned as her muscles strained. He was trying to push the gun down, towards her head, and she knew she couldn’t hold out against him much longer.
She moved before she was aware of any decision. In her training, she’d always been taught to use her opponent’s momentum against him. She twisted her body and slid right, out from under the gun. With no force counteracting him, Pinky’s hand and the gun came slamming down on the teak combing. His fingers loosened and the pistol bounced onto the deck outside the cockpit. Riley scrambled out after it. She had one leg on the deck when she saw the gun hit one of the stainless stanchions and tumble off the side of the boat into the pale blue water.
And then she screamed when she felt teeth clamp down on her calf. Her right leg hadn’t cleared the cockpit coaming, and the idiot had bit her! She tried to kick her leg free, but she was off balance, and she came down hard on her hip, the nylon panties not providing any cushion. Warm blood flowed across her skin and as she struggled, she slipped in the wet red liquid on the deck.
Then she saw it. The knife Spyder had made her drop on the deck earlier. The razor-sharp saw-toothed blade glinted in the morning sunlight. Just beyo
nd her fingertips. Riley grabbed the frame of one of the cabin windows and pulled herself forward just enough to touch it with her fingernail. The first time, she only managed to push it farther away. Damn her leg hurt. His teeth were ripping her flesh the more she pulled away. She tried again and with her second effort, she slid the knife closer and wrapped her fingers around the hefty handle.
She glanced over her shoulder, located Pinky’s head and with her other foot, she planted a kick with her heel right down on his nose. She grunted through clenched teeth as she felt her own flesh tear. But his jaw loosened and she pulled her leg free.
Scrambling to get her legs under her, she saw him plant his good hand on the teak coaming to steady himself. His broad nose streamed blood and as he breathed hard through his mouth, blood spume splattered the deck. Riley raised the knife over her head and brought it down with all her strength right into the back of that good hand. The blade plunged through the skin and bone and dug deep into the teak. Pinky screamed one last time and collapsed, the pain at last becoming too much for his mind to bear.
Riley got up and looked down at the unconscious figure. Then she extended her leg to examine the wound on her calf. A flap of skin hung loose, and her leg and foot were covered in blood.
“In spite of the blood, you look very fetching in that T-shirt and those panties, my dear.”
Riley whirled around. A white sportfishing boat was tied to the far side of the sleek black powerboat. Diggory was standing on the foredeck, one arm in a white sling, the other hand holding a gun.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
Aboard the Shadow Chaser
March 31, 2008
7:50 a.m.
Cole stood with his elbows resting on the wheelhouse dash just below the radio. He stared out through the windshield glass holding the radio’s microphone in one hand and tapping it against his chin.
Where was she? She called them from her boat less than an hour ago, so why wasn’t Riley answering her radio now? This was the second time he’d tried to raise her and still nothing. If anyone had told him that once he got this close to finding Surcouf he would want to slow it all down, he would have called that person insane. But now, he knew the find wouldn’t be the same without Riley here to share it. They’d only got this far because of her.
Theo shifted into reverse to slow them down. He began to chuckle. “Come look,” he said.
Cole hung the microphone on the side of the radio and stepped behind his first mate so he could get a better look at the big monitor. Theo was running it split screen; the down imaging sonar offered a side view of the bottom; they could see the water at the top of the screen, and then the various striations of sand and the more dense rock of the sea floor at the bottom. They were beginning to see the hard outline of a large object on top of the sand. In a corner of the screen, Cole noted the depth scale; they were looking at a picture of the sea floor thirty-six meters below.
Neither man spoke as Shadow Chaser drifted forward and unbelievably clear details filled in on the screen. They saw the outline of a rudder canted upwards at an angle. Surcouf was lying on her starboard side, and both men stopped breathing when the bulbous deck structure that had once served as a hangar for the seaplane came into view.
“Oh my God,” Cole whispered as they saw, just forward of the conning tower, where the bow of the sub had been ripped open.
“Would you look at that,” Theo said.
“I can’t believe it,” Cole said. “After all this time, there she is.”
“Or what’s left of her.”
“After more than sixty years,” Cole said.
“No question why she sank.”
“No,” Cole said, and he thought about the story Michaut had told them, about all the men who had died when the American bombers came in for that final run.
Theo said, “Can’t even see the forward deck guns.”
“They may have blown clear. Looks like she got hit right on top of the two big guns.” The forward bow section was bent off to starboard exposing a gaping hole into the sub’s interior. As more of the bottom contour flowed into view, they saw how the forward section seemed to hang, floating, as the bottom disappeared off the screen. The wreck rested on a sea floor that angled downwards at a forty-five degree angle — in essence, the Surcouf was sitting on the downward slope of an undersea cliff.
Cole jumped when Riley’s loud voice erupted out of the radio. “Shadow Chaser, Shadow Chaser, this is the Bonefish.”
He grabbed the microphone, and catching Theo’s eyes he pressed the button with a big grin on his face. “Riley, this is Shadow Chaser here. Thank God. You’ll never guess what we’re looking at on the sonar screen. Now get your little sailboat over here to celebrate with us!”
Cole stopped speaking but Riley didn’t answer him. He looked up at the SSB radio as if it could tell him why.
He lifted the mike. “Bonefish, this is Shadow Chaser. Did you copy that? Over.”
Again, there was only silence.
“What the hell is going on?” Cole said. “Why can’t she hear us?” He turned back to look at Theo, his raised eyebrows accenting his question. “Do you think it’s the radio?”
Theo shook his head. “Don’t know, Cap’n.”
Cole raised the mike to his mouth again, but before he had a chance to push the transmit button, he heard a voice — and it was not Riley’s.
“Shadow Chaser, this is the sailing vessel Bonefish. I’m very sorry to say so, but it appears the captain refuses to speak to you at the moment.”
Cole’s knuckles whitened as he squeezed the microphone. He reminded himself to calm down. He didn’t want to break the damn thing. “Who is this?” he said. “Where’s Riley?”
“I think you know very well who I am, Dr. Thatcher. And our Captain Riley is right here with me. Very close to me. You do know how close we are, don’t you, Dr. Thatcher?”
“Riley,” Cole said, hoping Priest was telling the truth and that she was there within earshot of his voice. “Talk to me. What can I do to help?”
“Ah, how very good of you – since Riley here won’t cooperate. You see, Dr. Thatcher, I asked her to call you and get your location.” He chuckled and the air waves went dead for a several seconds. Cole was about to respond when Priest came back on. “We want ever so much to come pay you a visit, but Riley here says she doesn’t know where you are. And she refuses to get back on the radio to ask you. Do you see how that could be a dangerous position for her to take?”
“Priest. Don’t hurt her, you hear me?”
Cole released the button on his mike, and he heard the sound of Priest’s laughter from the radio.
“Or you’ll do what? Kill me?”
Cole slammed the palm of his hand down on the boat’s dash. “Listen, Priest, I’ll soon have something you want. You can have it in exchange for her. You don’t deliver her to me unharmed, and I’ll destroy it all. The submarine is resting on a ledge. One blast and the wreck, the documents, and all the gold go down into the trench.”
“Now, now, Dr. Thatcher. There’s no need for that. I think we can come to an amicable agreement. Why don’t you tell us where you are so we can get started sailing. We’re in Grand Bourg on Marie Gallant. I assume it will take us a while to get to you.”
In the background, Cole heard Riley’s voice shout, “Cole, don’t!”
“Priest, we’re three miles east-southeast of Petite Terre. I assume you’ll recognize my boat once you get close. We’ll be ready to trade whatever we find down there by the time you get here.”
“Roger, Shadow Chaser. We’ll see you soon. We’re over and out.” The radio went silent.
Cole glanced at Theo, and then turned his face toward the monitor that showed the blue outline of the wreck. Staring at the familiar shape, he whispered, “Shit.”
Then, he clapped his hands together, turned back to Theo and said, “What time is it?”
“Just past eight.”
“Okay, given the speed of her
sailboat, I reckon we’ve got four to five hours to figure out what the hell we’re going to do.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
From Bonefish to Fast Eddie
March 31, 2008
7:50 a.m.
Riley followed orders. She climbed over Spyder’s corpse and out into the cockpit. She stepped around Pinky’s still form, and then swung her injured leg over the lifelines. She stepped from her own boat onto the foredeck of the racing powerboat Fast Eddie. Dig followed.
“Get behind the wheel and start the engines. I’ll untie the lines.”
She needed to stall him any way she could. If Theo and Cole were convinced that Dig was coming on the slower Bonefish, they would think they had time. They didn’t. This ocean racer could cover the miles in less than an hour.
“No, wait. I’ll deal with the lines once I start the engine. Besides, the Bertram you came on hasn’t got an anchor down.”
“Don’t argue with me. Set it adrift. We need to get moving.”
“But it will be bound to attract attention.”
Dig glanced around the waterfront. “I suspect the authorities are already on their way. Given it’s the islands, the gendarmes may have had to finish their croissants first, but we need to go. Now.”
Riley shrugged, but didn’t move.
She was half turned away from him when he hit the side of her jaw so hard, he knocked her off balance and she fell to the deck. Dazed, she raised herself to a sitting position and put her hand to her cheek. He must have used the butt of the gun. She made no effort to stand. Probing around inside her mouth with her index finger, she didn’t find any loose teeth, but her hand came away bloodied.
“Don’t fuck with me, Riley. You’ve seen what I can do.”
That she had. She had no idea how hard she could push him. But she was also certain that as soon as he got what he wanted, he wouldn’t leave anyone alive to tell about it.
Riley got up and slid into the driver’s seat. She gripped the compact steering wheel and looked at the array of instruments on the dashboard. She had never driven a high performance powerboat before. She was sorting out the fuel, oil pressure and temperature gauges, when Dig kicked at the back of her seat.
Circle of Bones: a Caribbean Thriller Page 41