by H. L. Wegley
She would have to use the resort as a maze to lose them. Only thirty yards to the doorway, but the man dogging her trailed by less than twenty yards. Still no sirens.
Had the cashier called 911? Please, Lee. Hurry.
27
While Katie climbed the ladder towards the deck of the yacht, the man with the reptilian voice prodded her with the spear. He obviously enjoyed doing that. She sensed a deep-seated cruelty in him that she would be careful to avoid inciting.
What did these men want with her? Had they captured her simply because she got too close? And where was Jenn?
Katie determined to keep her eyes and ears open, gather all of the information she could, and try to formulate a plan of escape. But first, she had to find Jenn. Together, they could take out one of the men and get away.
After two more painful prods with the spear, Katie reached the top of the ladder. The tall man with the rifle grabbed her arm with his other hand and yanked her onto the deck.
She was five feet nine and weighed nearly 130 pounds, but the man handled her weight as if she were a bag of groceries.
“Look at me!” The tall man’s voice and posture said he was used to giving commands and having people obey him.
She looked up into a darkly tanned face that exuded evil. His eyes were cold, lifeless. Katie shuddered. She’d been told about demonic influence. This man fit the description she had formed in her mind. She would cower, pretend to be helpless, and maybe she would get a chance to use the karate Granddad had taught her. Maybe she would find some other way of escape. She looked into the man’s evil face again and shuddered. Maybe she should just trust the God who was always with her to take care of the details.
“Do as you’re told, princess, or the sharks will have a feast. Do you understand?” He cupped her chin and lifted her head.
She nodded, but avoided his eyes. She didn’t want to see them. Didn’t want them seeing her intentions, seeing that she wanted to deliver a brutal kick right between those dead eyes and dive into the water.
When she had reached her limit for enduring this man’s scrutiny, he pulled his gaze from her.
Though the sun was warm, the cooling of the trades blowing across her wet skin and the coldness of the man’s eyes chilled Katie to the bone.
“Snake, put her in the guest bedroom and be sure to remove the little weapon the previous guest left behind.”
They were talking about Jennifer. Katie lowered her head and listened. So Snake was the hissing man’s name. These people seemed to get everything in life wrong. But they had gotten something right. The man was a snake.
“Did you see any signs of her while I was in the water?” Snake asked.
Did that mean Jenn had escaped?
“No signs. No blood in the water. Nothing,” the head guy said.
Snake shook his head. “That could mean big trouble for—”
“I’m fully aware of that. Now get this girl inside the cabin, out of sight.”
Snake took her arm, jammed the spear in her back, and pushed her towards the port side of the yacht.
“How’s Mack doing?” Snake asked as he pushed her along.
“Not good. Our million-dollar baby nearly severed his jugular. He’s stretched out on a bed, bleeding. Not sure if he’s going to make it.”
Snake jerked her to a stop and turned towards the tall man. “Sounds like Mack’s not going to be much help. That only leaves you, me, and the captain.”
“But we have a hostage if we need one.”
“If?” Snake laughed in a staccato of hisses. “We’ll need her before this day’s over.” He prodded her ahead with the spear.
So that’s what she was to them, a hostage. Jenn had escaped, nearly killing one of the men in the process. Katie prayed Jenn was safe, and she prayed for a chance to do what her future mother had done.
Her loathing of these men mushroomed out of control. She wanted to replicate in great detail what Jenn must have done to them. She would eventually beg for God’s forgiveness, but right now, cutting Snake’s throat and cutting off his hissing voice in the process would give her great satisfaction.
Snake jerked her to a stop. “Open the door.”
Katie twisted the handle and pushed open the door. A siren sounded in the distance. Then several more. The wop, wop, wop, of a helicopter’s rotor grew louder. Snake shoved her inside, and then shoved her to the floor.
She was in a bedroom. The carpet reeked of cigarette smoke. She pulled her head up from the foul-smelling carpet and sneezed.
“Not you too?”
“I can’t breathe in here. I’m allergic to cig—”
“Then don’t breathe.” Snake’s hissing chuckle sounded like someone wheezing. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll end your breathing problem right now.” He shoved her head down onto the carpet.
Snake pulled several nylon ties from his pocket and prodded her with his spear. “Don’t move except to breathe…if you can.” He chuckled and stepped to the bed, where he picked up a roll of duct tape.
Katie stared at the roll of tape, picturing tape covering her mouth. An uncontrollable terror nearly took her sanity. When he peeled off a length of tape, Katie’s terror exploded into a panic attack. When he approached her with the tape, she rolled, kicked, wiggled, anything to get away.
He dealt her a savage blow, a backhand across her face, and jammed the spear hard against her throat.
“Stop! Now! Or I’ll pull the trigger.”
Katie froze. Rationality returned, but her heart still threatened to burst from the pressure of her pulse.
He pulled the spear head back a couple of inches from her neck. “Turn over on your stomach.”
She had to tell him. He couldn’t tape her mouth, or….
“Turn over now.”
She winced as the sharp spearhead broke the skin on her neck. Blood trickled down her neck. Slowly Katie rolled over.
He placed her ankles on the floor straddling the corner bed post, and pulled two sets of restraints around her ankles, tying her to the bed.
She sat up on the floor. “If you tape my mouth, I’ll smother. I’m allergic to cigarette smoke.”
The restraints cut into her wrists as Snake pulled them tight behind her back.
“Please. You’ve got to believe me. I promise to be quiet if—”
“Oh, you’ll be quiet all right.”
He wrenched her head to one side and slapped a length to the tape over her mouth.
Before he could smooth the tape, Katie’s fear exploded into sheer terror.
Snake laughed his wheezy laugh as she writhed on the floor.
One thought screamed inside her head in an endless loop, “I can’t breathe!”
She screamed it from her mouth, but the tape forced it back down her throat, choking her, making, her cough, inciting another choking spasm.
Was it a few minutes or an eternity later? She didn’t know and couldn’t tell. But she lay exhausted on the smoky carpet, drenched in sweat and breathing through her nose. Maybe she could do this. Maybe she could suppress the panic. She’d heard that adrenaline acted like an antihistamine. But having repeated panic attacks to stay alive didn’t seem much better than the alternative.
Snake sat in a chair watching her with a smirk on his face. He enjoyed people’s suffering. If she could, Katie would’ve planted a foot stomp squarely on those smirking lips.
Her anger grew until it masked her panic. Yes, she could do this. She would do this.
Snake stood and stepped to the door. He stooped and picked up an object on the floor, lying against the wall. “Our million-dollar baby nearly cut Mack’s head off with this ash tray. The other half is in the water.” He walked around the room and returned to where Katie lay. “Safe enough for even a toddler like you. Enjoy your stay, princess.”
Snake grabbed his spear gun and left Katie alone to wage war with her wheezing and her worry about the panic attack that felt only seconds away.
28
“Is she OK?”
“Right now she is, but I need to get there ASAP. How fast can you get me to the beach behind the resort? And I need my cell. It’s supposed to be water-resistant. It can take a dunk, but I wouldn’t want to go for a swim with it. We need to get in close.”
Granddad smiled. “I can get you into shallow water so you don’t have to swim.”
“But you might run this thing aground.”
“Not to worry, Lee. I can do this. It’s called the slingshot maneuver.”
I hope he’s not serious. “Granddad, isn’t that something police do using a patrol car on pavement after they’ve practiced it?”
“Car, boat, pavement, water…it works the same. You’ll see.”
“But what if you get in too close and run the boat—”
“Don’t worry, Lee. Water is much softer than pavement. Trust me.” He opened the throttle.
Lee retrieved his wallet from where he had placed it, slipped out Ramirez’s card, and jotted Peterson’s cell number on the back. “You call Peterson and tell him about Katie. This could end up being a hostage situation. We’ll need the FBI to rescue her. I’ll check with you once Jennifer is safe. If for any reason I can’t reach you, then I’ll call Peterson.”
“After I call Peterson, I’ll watch the yacht from a safe distance. If they move Katie, we need to know about it.” Granddad shot him a glance.
“Sounds like a plan.”
The boat skimmed the water at sixty miles per hour, headed directly for Wailea Beach.
“Are you sure about this slingshot—”
“Like I said, trust me, Lee. It will work.”
“Trust me, he says. When do I have to trust you?”
“In about fifteen or twenty seconds. Stand on the seat, hold your cell phone over your head, and get ready to jump towards shore.”
Lee quickly surveyed the inlet. The snorkelers were all along the volcanic rocks at either end of the beach. He focused on Wailea Beach. It rushed at them at an insane rate. How can Granddad stop in—
Lee went airborne, pushing off his toes at the last second as the boat spun ninety degrees and nearly stopped in the water. The maneuver launched Lee off-balance. He flew in a flat arc towards shore. With his arms flailing and legs churning like a long jumper, he struggled to regain his balance and enter the water feet first.
Fifty feet closer to shore, Lee butt-flopped with a pop in three feet of water. His cell may have briefly gone under. His rear stung from the slap the water gave it, but he had survived Granddad’s slingshot. He opened his phone. Its display indicated his cell had also survived.
Shaking his head then wiping saltwater from his eyes, Lee stood and gave Granddad a thumbs up. Then he ran a hand over his backside to make sure his cargo shorts weren’t split.
When Granddad waved him towards the resort, every sunbather on the beach stood, staring at the spectacle.
The spectacle scampered out of the water and broke into an all-out sprint towards what looked like the main entrance on the beach side of the hotel. Lee prayed he would find Jennifer safe inside.
Knowing that she was inside the door sent his heart and lungs into overdrive. He sprinted the 150 yards across the grass to the door, sending clods of turf flying from his shoes like a racehorse.
He dodged a waiter exiting the door and dodged two more as he ran through a large dining room. Lee sprinted down a long corridor towards the main desk. He rounded a corner and jerked to a stop when the counter hit him in the stomach. His upper body flew across the counter, and his protruding face stared into the wide eyes of the short clerk, barely a foot in front of him.
“Can…Can I help—”
“Call the police. Two terrorists are chasing my wife, the woman in the Amber Alert.”
“Terrorists? Police? Amber Alert? Are you sure?”
He didn’t have time for this. “Just do it, you knucklehead! Now, has anyone seen them?”
The young man appeared to recover from his initial shock. “There’s some kind of disturbance that security is monitoring on the—”
“Where is it? Lee yelled, pounding the counter with his fist.
The clerk backed away from him, his gaze darting from Lee’s face to his fist. The young man pointed to a corridor on the north side of the building. “It’s…it’s on the first floor, Chapel wing…people are running and they’re—”
Lee charged for the Chapel Wing. As he approached the entrance to the wing he slowed.
The sounds of running feet echoed in the Chapel Overlook concourse.
Jennifer sprinted out of the concourse but turned away from Lee towards the dining room. She ran barefoot, hardly making a sound. The clomping of shoes grew louder.
Lee ran to the wing thirty yards away.
A short, stocky man flew out and turned the direction Jennifer had run.
He had missed the short man, so Lee accelerated as he heard a second man coming. When a lanky man emerged, Lee hit him as hard as he could, just like he had been taught by his high school football coach, head in front, shoulder driving through the hips, arms clamping like two-by-fours, legs running like the person is still ten feet away when you make contact.
Lights flashed at the incredible impact. The running man’s thigh dealt Lee’s cheek a stunning blow. But the force of the tackle whipped the man’s head over Lee. The backlash sent the guy’s head flying the opposite direction into a stone wall.
Despite the lightning flash and his ringing ears, Lee heard the man’s head hit the wall, sounding like a softball slugged for an extra-base hit.
When Lee stood, he shook his head to knock the cobwebs loose. Then he waited for the dazed, detached feeling to be replaced by reality. In what seemed like only a few seconds, Lee was back.
He looked at the man on the floor. One side of the man’s face was covered in blood oozing from a gaping split in his scalp. He was out cold, not moving. He didn’t appear to be breathing, and Lee wasn’t going to stop to help him.
Lee took off in the direction Jennifer had disappeared, towards the big dining room.
When he turned the corner to enter, the short stocky Iranian flew by him. He had reversed direction. He was running the opposite direction as Jennifer and obviously planned to intercept her on the other side of the big loop forming the first floor of the resort.
Lee hesitated, then turned to run after the stocky man, but Jennifer emerged from the dining room. She had reversed direction, too.
Smart girl.
He hooked Jennifer with an arm and pulled her to his right, towards the Chapel wing elevator door, and pressed the button. “Fourth floor, Jenn, 414, Bertha Renner. Love you. See you there.”
“But, Lee—”
He pushed her inside and ran opposite the direction the Iranian had run.
Sirens wailed in the distance. As Lee ran through the dining room, they grew louder. Would the man give up the chase now? The guy must have seen his friend out on the floor covered in blood. No. Even that didn’t stop the man.
Lee stepped into the dining room, lined up with the far corner, giving him a straight shot at it, and waited for the sound of running feet.
He heard shots from two different guns. This added an extra measure of uncertainty to what he was doing. The Iranian could take him out with a single shot unless…
Lee moved to within ten yards of the corner, positioned his feet to run, waited, and listened. The sound of running feet grew louder. He tried to picture where the man was by the sounds, tried to time his run to hit the guy at the corner, tried to picture the man’s body slamming into the floor like a helpless quarterback being blindsided.
Here he comes.
Lee broke from his starting posture and st
reaked towards the corner. He arrived in tackling position just as a shoe hit the floor. Lee executed a picture perfect tackle. His shoulder struck the man’s thighs and took him down hard.
The impact from a knee sent another flash of light through Lee’s head. He crashed onto the floor on top of the man. Lee raised his fist to smash whatever first appeared smashable. When the two stopped sliding, Lee stopped his fist. He was staring into the face of Officer Yagi.
“Brandt don’t hit me, or I’ll have you arrested.” Yagi groaned as he rolled and pushed up onto his knees. “Why did you tackle me anyway?”
“Where’s the short Iranian dude? He was running this way. I was planning to take him out.”
Yagi pushed up into a kneeling position, shook his head a few times, and then rose to his feet. “The Iranian dude got himself shot. He pulled a gun on us when we came in. Kaai had to shoot him.”
“Then what were you doing running towards the restaurant?”
Yagi shook his head again. “Man, where’d you learn to tackle like that?”
Lee stood and rubbed his jaw. “Where’d you get legs like that? Your knee nearly knocked me out. But you didn’t answer my question.”
“What question?”
“Come on. I didn’t hit you that hard. Why were you running around this corner?”
“They told me there was another Iranian down here. A tall dude, bleeding all over the floor.”
Lee nodded. “There is.”
“Where is he and what happened to him?” Yagi cocked his head and frowned.
Lee tugged on his arm. “Come on. He’s around the next corner. He was unconscious when I left him. Don’t even know if he’s still breathing.”
Yagi followed Lee as they jogged to the far side of the restaurant. “Did somebody shoot the guy?”
“No. I tackled him. We hit the stone wall instead of the floor. His head didn’t fare so well.”
He rounded the corner and saw the motionless body of the Iranian, his head covered with blood.