Captain Henry shook his head and punched the buttons again.
Tinkerbelle buried her head under my arm. I thought about the helicopter. Maybe Jaxbee would help us get away. I could pay her with my next real estate commission… if I lived long enough. Kit and Roger! Where were they? The chance of them getting caught in crossfire was real.
“Where’s Jaxbee?” I yelled at Henry.
“Jax and Dale are putting the mini-sub in dry dock.”
From my vantage point I saw the crew scramble onto all four decks like mice flushed from a storm drain. Dressed in white Armani shirts and shorts and armed with M14 rifles, some with shotguns, all had handguns holstered on their hips. Would it be less painful to get hit by well-dressed friendly fire? As I cowered, my back against the control panel, I felt Hook at my elbow. He was fully armed, a .40-caliber Glock in his hand and still erect in his bathing trunks.
“Shouldn’t you see what they want first?” I asked. “Maybe they’re Greenpeace. Have you harpooned any whales lately?”
Hook shot me an angry look. “Give me Tinkerbelle.”
I tried to hand him the dog but she growled and bared her teeth.
“She’ll be safer with me, but I need a gun.” I held her close to my chest.
“There’s one in your suite in the bottom drawer by the bed.” He turned away and yelled to the captain. “Are they in range of the water cannons? Announce the order for everyone to go to earplugs, give them sixty seconds then activate the LRAD.”
“Just tried to put it in standby mode and it failed. I can’t activate the LRAD. And the cannons aren’t responding either,” Captain Henry yelled.
I couldn’t hear the reply or anything else over the din of my thudding feet and beating heart. Roscoe, the Haitian chef, whammed into me as he ran in the direction I’d just come. I hit the deck hard and Tink, still clutched in my arms, barked at the man as viciously as a puffball can. I pushed myself up with my free hand.
Roscoe held out his hand to help me but I was already up and racing to my suite, which I reached in record time. Tink licked my nose and I started to breathe again. We were safe. From my initial tour of the ship and all its security, I was confident the attackers couldn’t get on board.
Then it hit me. The swim platform was in the down position this morning when Kit and I were hanging out in the Water Sports Marina. If it was still down, we might as well be handing out refreshments for the attackers.
Chapter Twelve
I found the gun and slipped on a bright yellow lifejacket. As I hid in my suite with the gun in one hand and the dog in the other, I heard stomping at the stern. That answered the question about the swim platform. Prepare to serve coffee and donuts.
All hell broke loose with a burst of sonic vibrations painful even down here in my stateroom. Tinkerbelle howled. I felt like the centerpiece in a Quentin Tarantino flick and checked myself for bloodstains.
Had Henry managed to activate the malfunctioning LRAD and now it was backfiring? I jammed one ear against the side of the bed and covered one ear with my hand. I put my other hand on Tink’s head and pushed her floppy ears into her ear holes with my thumb and middle finger. I joined her howling.
The suite door flew open and Kit dove in. In my run for cover, I had forgotten about him. His 6’4” gym-toned body was almost naked except for a lavender Speedo and coconut scented tanning oil. He slid to a stop beside me with his fingers in his ears. We stayed in that position until blessed silence engulfed us. The blast had lasted only two minutes, but my head ached and my eyes throbbed.
Kit looked at my lifejacket/black bikini combo. “You look like a bumble-bee.”
I waved the .38.
“Honey, don’t point that thing at me.” His eyes shifted to the open door.
A man in a wetsuit and goggles, carrying an M16 stepped in. There wasn’t a mask in the world that could disguise his face. It was my ex-husband Croc, grinning like the fool that he was. “You look like a bumble-bee.”
I leveled my gun at him.
He snorted. “Yeah. I’m really scared. How’ve you been, kid?”
I’d never have imagined he’d take to the sea. “What the devil are you doing?”
“We’re here to get Hook’s treasure.”
“You and some Somali pirates?”
He snorted. “He’ll wish that all he had to worry about was Somali pirates. I have most of the brokers from my old hedge fund with me.”
“Ooohh, that should do it. Fierce hedgie marauders, much scarier than those psycho Somalis.”
Croc glared at me. “You’re right. We are much scarier because that bastard ruined our lives and backed us into a corner. Hook and his treasure are our only way out. And you’re going to help us. Where does Hook have it hidden?”
“I wouldn’t tell you if I knew. You’re scum like he is.”
“Don’t test my good nature. I’m going to get back what’s mine and that might include you.”
It was useless talking to him when he got this way.
“By the way, sorry about Marni dying from radiation.”
He didn’t look sorry, and he knew too much. Something was fishy. “How –?”
Croc pulled off his goggles leaving a red mark straddling the bridge of his nose. “Got you bugged,” he smirked.
I frisked myself for hidden microphones.
“Want some help?” He touched my breast.
When I smacked him, his eyes spun like slot machine cherries. He spoke slowly as he rubbed his jaw, “I’ll be back after we search the ship. One of my boys will be in to guard you.”
“You numb nuts.” I yelled at his back as he turned to leave. He looked like a giant black Gumby.
“Don’t call me numb nuts! And don’t yell at me!”
A slender guy wearing a dark blue wetsuit and Ralph Lauren sunglasses stepped into the room. “Don’t push him. Croc’s on the edge. He’s been off his meds for three weeks.” He looked around the room then at us. “You make a strange couple.”
“We’re not a couple. How did Croc know where to find me?”
He shrugged. “Damned if I know, he just said this was your suite.”
Hmmph. Croc knew way too much.
“Got anything cold and alcoholic in here?” He grinned like a child with a new Wii game. “This buccaneer gig is fun. There’s actually a place online that sells pirate equipment.”
Kit opened the little fridge and pried the cap off a Corona.
The guard accepted the beer from Kit. “Got any lime?”
Thud! A body slammed into the lip of the hatch.
“Damn!” Roger yelped as he rubbed his knee. “Everybody okay in here?”
Kit popped open another Corona and stuck it in Roger’s hand.
“What, no lime?” He leaned over and whispered in my ear. “They’re deliberately trashing the ship.”
The three of us sat staring at our guard who paid little attention to us. I could hear doors slamming and loud thuds as objects were tossed onto the decks.
Thirty minutes later, my ex stumbled back into the room. “We couldn’t find any treasure, just a bunch of crap art. Trey, you can leave.” He glared at Kit. “I think somebody has a hangnail on deck three. You’re excused.” He turned to Roger, “You, too. Step out into the corridor.”
“I’ll stay with Wendy,” Roger said.
“I’m her husband. Leave us alone.”
Roger’s eyebrows shot to his hairline.
“Very ex-husband,” I said.
“You sure you’re okay with this?” Roger persisted.
“Go. I’ll be fine.” I nudged him out the door.
Chapter Thirteen
It felt weird to be alone with Croc again. He sat on the bed and patted the spot next to him. “Let’s talk like old times. I have a proposition for you.”
I stood over him. Croc was many things, but dangerous was not one of them, at least not before his disappearance.
“Okay. So don’t sit. I know about your promise to Marni. Hook’s go
ing to keep you close to him. Here’s the deal –”
“Look you giant rubber putz, I’m not making any deal with you.”
He made a grab for me. I dodged it. He said, “Hook’s treasure is not on the Predator, so he must be going after it. And guess what, my dear? He’s going to take you with him. He’ll never let you go. Your only chance for safety is me. Isn’t it ironic?”
“That’s crazy. Why won’t he let me go?”
“Because he has the hots for you.”
“That’s even crazier. How could he possibly have the hots for me?” Hook’s overly possessive arm around my shoulder the first time we met at his hanger flashed into my mind, colored with suspicions of my ex.
Croc shot me a smarmy grin that ran the width of his face. “It came out when Hook and I were doing a deal.” He looked like he regretted saying that.
“So you were a feeder for Hook.”
“Hell, no. I’m a victim here. I admit maybe I was being a little lazy when I placed money with Hook that investors had put in my hedge fund, but he was producing a higher return than I could hope to. Of course, now we know how he was doing it. Ponzi scheme should be renamed Hook scheme.”
Croc was quick to get off the subject of Hook’s interest in me. He took a deep breath, a sure sign that he was about to steer the conversation in another direction. But I knew his tricks and spoke before he did. “So your deal involved me how?”
He squirmed on the bed. “This deal was separate from his Ponzi scheme, and I was ten mil short. He was in my office to try to collect and your picture was on my desk. He asked me about it, and I told him that you and I were having some temporary problems. But I was certain that as soon as I cleared up my money problems and could spend more time with you, everything would be aces.”
He dropped his voice to barely audible. “That’s when he made the bet.”
Stepping closer to him I said more loudly than I intended, “What bet?”
“Double or nothing.”
I crossed my arms, tapped my foot, and waited silently.
“Double or nothing that within a year he’d be spending more time with you than I would.”
My blood pressure skyrocketed. I grabbed his face, made him look in my eyes, and yelled, “You mean I’m in this mess because you were low enough to use your wife in a bet.”
He pulled my hands from his face and nodded. “Then he stole your picture off my desk.”
“So the bastard didn’t have the hots for me, he had the hots for twenty million… thanks to you.”
“I don’t know. It might have started that way, but obviously, it turned into some kind of obsession since the bet’s no longer an issue. He moved on you like a shark to a bleeding surfer the minute he was sure I was out of the way. I think he turned me over to the Russians… trying to get me killed just to have a shot with you.”
“Oh bull –”
“Just listen for once. I’ve got your back. Just –”
“I feel real comfortable with you having my back, considering it’s your fault I’m here. Whatever it is you’re asking, it’s not going to happen. The first opportunity I get, I’m out of here. The smartest thing I can do is turn him into the feds.”
“If you don’t cooperate, he will kill you. You have my number in your speed dial? When he hits shore, call me.”
“Hook’s man pitched all our cell phones in the ocean. And what difference does it make? He’s not going to let me go just because you ask.”
Croc put his hands on his skinny hips and put his face close to mine. “I’ve got him convinced I can defeat his cloaking device. He’s meeting me on Nevis Island, a week from today. He thinks I’ll turn over my anti-cloaking thingie to the feds if he doesn’t show up. It’s the big pay-off, kid.”
“You can’t defeat the cloaking shield.”
“We’re on board, aren’t we?” he said with a wink.
Why did he wink?
Croc snorted. “Right now I have the Ponzi king convinced there’s a satellite aimed at his head. He’s sitting like a piece of wormy wood, afraid to move.” As he stood, he tossed a small heart shaped box to me.
I snatched it out of the air. “What is this?”
“It’s a token of my good intentions.” He turned with a rubbery squeak and was gone.
Chapter Fourteen
Kit, Roger, and I scrunched by the side of my bed for what seemed like an eternity after the Zodiacs sped off. My bladder won the argument with my brain. “Let’s try for my bathroom.”
We staggered stiff and sweaty to my private head. The porthole was smashed from the outside and shards of glass littered the toilet seat. The lock refused to hold so, the guys stood outside protecting me from stray pirates. I gingerly removed the shards and sat down to great relief.
Now to see what damage had been done to the ship. With my nail tech leading and my SEC investigator following, we left the suite in search of Hook and Jaxbee. The corridors were flooded but it appeared no water was rushing in. We stepped cautiously through what had once been the art salon – it was trashed. Paintings ripped from walls, and sculptures smashed with pieces scattered across the floors. So far, no bodies.
“Where’s the crew?” I asked.
“Maybe the hedgies made them walk the plank?” Kit said as he stepped over a piece of marble art.
We worked our way to the bridge. “Let’s see if there’s anybody in charge,” I said as my foot hit a slippery patch and I went sliding on the spiral staircase. Roger caught me before I tumbled.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll catch you next time.”
He smiled.
Hook sat crumpled in the captain’s chair, his UpUGo erection resting on the wheel. He was a piece of wormy wood. The metallic smell of blood fouled the air.
“You can move,” I said, “Croc and his hedgies have gone.” I stepped to his side and caught a glimpse of Captain Henry lying in a pool of blood, his right leg caught under the electronics panel. The back of his head had been shot out.
Kit keeled over. I caught him and sat us down on the lounge opposite the helm.
Roger passed out cold and slid down the wall.
Then Kit lost his breakfast and I lost my pitcher of screwdrivers.
Hook gave us a disgusted look and rubbed his forehead. “How did Croc find us? How did he defeat the cloaking system?”
Jaxbee and Dale ran onto the bridge. Her hand flew to her mouth as she stared at the captain’s body.
The quartermaster stepped toward the lifeless form. “Henry’s gone.”
The expression on Jaxbee’s face hardened. “I’m now in charge of this ship.” Her eyes narrowed and she clenched her teeth like an angry baby tiger. She took a tiny key from around her neck and opened a little compartment. “Both switches are in the ‘off’ position,” she said, looking directly at me. I didn’t know what she meant.
My mind refused to accept what I was seeing. There was a real live dead body not ten feet away. A second death in less than a week. Marni, and now the captain.
Jaxbee picked up the walkie-talkie, “Smee, Starkey, Noodler, to the bridge immediately. Ben and Tootles raise and secure the swim platform.”
There was no response.
She turned to the quartermaster. “Dale, I want to know who left that the damn thing down. I want that person fed to the sharks. Now! Where the hell is the crew?”
Her face turned pale. “Are they…? They can’t be that stupid…” She pushed the intercom. “Safe room?”
“Noodler,” a voice answered.
“Are you all in the safe room?”
“Affirmative.”
“Why?” She shot me a disgusted look.
“Captain Henry’s command.”
She ordered a team to the deck and clicked off.
Within minutes, three crewmen rushed in and covered Captain Henry.
“Wrap him up and toss him in the sea,” Hook said as the men carried off the body.
A feeling of unreality overcame me. No
thing seemed solid. It was like looking through the heat waves rising off a hot sand beach. How had I ended up in the middle of this strange game?
Chapter Fifteen
Still on the bridge, Dale stepped to the control console and checked out the brains of the ship, including the navigation equipment, autopilot, radar, gyrocompass, stabilizer, and communications gear with that damn jammer. If I could disconnect it, I could call for a taxi or better yet, Clark Kent. That is, if I had a cell phone… and if it worked out here… and if… to hell with it.
I tried not to look at the smear of blood where the captain had fallen. My stomach did flip-flops as one of the crewmen took a bucket of water and some evergreen-smelling cleaner to it, making it smell like Henry had been shot with a pine cone. I shuddered. “Let’s disappear.”
Roger and Kit followed me from the bridge through the ship.
The damage appeared to be mainly vandalism. Broken glass and slashed upholstery. The balls from the golf driving range floated in the swimming pool. In the salon, the Steinway Baby Grand player piano plinked Moon River over and over. Someone had rammed a chunk of broken mirror into its keyboard. The helicopter pad looked as if it had a seizure. The chopper’s tail boom was scratched, the Hook logo peeled off.
It was quieter on the port side of the yacht. I found a cushion, brushed off the grit, propped it, and settled back. Kit and Roger sat on either side of me.
“This has been… different,” Kit said. “We’ve been out to sea for six days and two deaths. How do we get off this battleship? I’ve got a career to get back to.” His bottle-blond hair glinted in the light of the sun.
“He’s not going to let us go. We know where he is and we know about the cloaking device,” Roger said.
“Can we radio the Coast Guard for help?” Kit asked.
I shook my head. “Remember, he’s got the communications jammer. He’s almost as proud of that as his cloaking device.”
Kit gave me a frustrated look. “If he’s got that cloaking thingie, how’d Croc find us?”
“Where money is involved, my ex can smell a penny at the bottom of the ocean. His talent for sniffing it out helped bring down Wall Street. His nostrils are as wide as hamster trails.”
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