by H. L. Wegley
Lee shook his head. “We probably can’t find out right now. But if Granddad is still in the rented boat he—”
“I’ve got to know something.” Her pleading brown eyes ripped at Lee’s heart. “Call him, Lee. Please.”
Before he could pull his cell from the pocket of his cargo shorts, it rang. He knew who it was before looking at the caller ID. He checked it anyway for Jennifer’s sake. “It’s Granddad.”
He put the cell to his ear. “Lee, is she OK?” Granddad’s excited voice sounded loudly above the idling boat motors in the background.
“She’s standing beside me, and she’s fine.”
“What about the Iranians?”
“One was shot. The other has head injuries. They’re both in police custody and on the way to the hospital.”
“Lee, what did you do? Probably more than you should have.”
“I didn’t do much. Delayed until the police—”
Jennifer snatched his cell. “He saved my life, Granddad. We’re in the room of the woman who saw me abducted and started the Amber Alert, Mrs. Renner. But we want to know about Katie. What’s happening on the yacht?”
The sound of the boat motors died. Jennifer turned on the cell’s speakerphone.
“There are two Coast Guard boats here, a police boat, two helicopters, and the shore is lined with police. They made me move away, about a mile to the north. But I’ve got Lee’s high-power binoculars.”
Granddad didn’t answer Jennifer’s question, not directly, and he made no mention of Katie. Lee wasn’t sure how to read that, but avoiding Jennifer’s question was not a good sign.
“Have you seen Katie?” Jennifer had cut to the chase. Evidently her patience was gone.
“No,” Granddad said. “I haven’t seen Katie. But I think I know where she is. The second cabin on the port side. I’ve seen men go in and come out. But since the authorities made me move my boat, I can’t see that side of the yacht.”
“That’s the room where they put me. Katie won’t tolerate it very well. It’s a smoker’s room. This isn’t good.” Her twin frown lines deepened.
Lee leaned close to the phone. “Granddad, tell us what the boats and the choppers are doing. At some point the authorities will give the goons an ultimatum, then move in if they don’t surrender.”
Granddad’s sigh was audible through the phone. “The goons, as you called them, haven’t surrendered. I heard a few gunshots. Then one helicopter backed off. But three of the boats are moving closer now. I saw some strange weapons on two of the boats. Scary looking weapons.”
Jennifer’s body grew rigid. “But they’ll try to negotiate Katie’s release first, won’t they?”
Lee was certain Jennifer knew the ground rules for a hostage situation. They would order them to release Katie. It would be an ultimatum with little room for negotiation. Unless Katie’s captors wanted to dialogue and indicated they wanted to avoid a gun battle, the scary looking weapons would probably be turned on the yacht.
Since the traffickers had already fired on the chopper, the “capture” scenario could be implemented at any moment.
“Another police boat has moved into position. On the back side of the boat, hidden from the yacht, three men wearing tanks just entered the water.” Granddad’s voice lost its usual calmness.
Men in the water. Men like Navy SEALs? Maybe “capture” included a plan to rescue Katie.
“Jenn, we need to pray for Katie. Now.”
Her eyes widened. “Come on. Let’s go down to the beach before—”
“I’m not sure they’ll let us on the beach. It’s too near the yacht. Besides, we don’t have binoculars. We wouldn’t be able to see anything.”
“There’s an observation area in the hotel. You can see everything for miles.” Mrs. Renner smiled when he and Jennifer turned towards her. “And I have a pair of binoculars. Brought them for whale watching.” She opened the guest guide for the Grand Wailea Resort and turned to a diagram of the facility. “The observation area is right here.”
Jennifer grabbed the binoculars Bertha Renner had fished out of her beach bag. “Thanks. Let’s go, Lee. I need to see. I need to know.”
“Granddad, Jenn and I are moving to an observation deck in the resort. We have binoculars. We’ll call you in a bit. Pray for Katie. Bye.”
Jennifer hooked his arm and pulled him towards the door. “Thanks again for taking me in and for your prayers, Mrs. Renner.”
“Honey, it was no problem. Now you go help them find your little girl, and I’ll continue to pray.”
Lee and Jenn ran as soon as they were out the door.
From the observation deck, they could see the whole drama unfolding. But Bertha Renner’s binoculars were wide-angle, for sighting whales. They weren’t high powered. The panorama they could see well. But the small details were hidden by the distance.
While Jennifer trained the binoculars on the yacht, Lee visually scanned the shoreline near Wailea Point. For three or four hundred yards, the beach was cordoned off. On the point, he saw two men with sniper’s rifles. “Capture” was cocked and aimed. Lee prayed that the Coast Guard, Peterson, and the Maui Police Department had planned well, and that they had given Katie a chance to survive what was coming in the next few minutes.
32
Over the past five minutes, the boats surrounding his yacht had drawn closer. Two helicopters flew a tight circle around them. Franklin James pulled the binoculars to his eyes and peered through a small crack towards Wailea Point. Two men with rifles. Snipers.
He moved to the port side. The police boat was only four hundred yards away. He stepped into the doorway of the cabin where the others had congregated, turned towards the police boat, and focused his binoculars on it.
“Snipers!” James yelled the word and dropped to the deck.
Chaos broke out in the cabin as Snake, Mack, and the Captain dove to the floor near the back wall.
James slammed the cabin door behind him, crawled to the storage bin, snagged the diving gear with one hand, and gently rolled off the deck. After grabbing the ladder with his free hand, he swung his legs downward to the ladder. He took two quick steps down the ladder then jumped into the water.
As he sank into the warm blue water, he ripped off his shoes and started the air flowing. He cleared the water from the hose and slid his lips over the mouthpiece. The closed-circuit rebreather would give him three hours if he needed it, and with the water cleared, this apparatus would produce no telltale bubbles.
He pulled on the mask and cleared it, then slipped on the fins. Using the orientation of the yacht thirty feet above him, he turned to the south and began swimming towards Makena Point. The large parking lot at the hotel there would provide a better selection of vehicles than Big Beach, and he could reach it ten minutes sooner. Each minute he gained improved his chances of getting away safely.
To move faster, James turned westward to pick up the current in the channel between the islands. Though it lay one hundred yards out of his way, the channel current would add one or two miles per hour to his swimming speed.
As he moved through the water, James began to work on his biggest problem, getting both his pilot and himself on board his Gulfstream without getting caught. The pieces of a plan began falling into place and he focused entirely on completing it.
A movement to his left caught his eye. A large tiger shark was feeding on a sea turtle. The big fish left its meal and darted towards him. James sucked a gasp of air from the tank but had no time to react.
The menacing creature glided past him in the water. One cold, staring eye seemed to lock his gaze for a moment. When the shark turned towards him again, James prepared for the futile attempt to defend himself against a fish designed to be a killing machine. But today, at this moment, the shark preferred sea turtle to Franklin James.
He shook uncontrollably as he swam southward, putting as much distance between himself and those tooth-lined jaws as he could.
He was Fran
klin James, too intelligent and careful to be nervous. It was a lie he had told himself until he almost believed it. Then a million-dollar girl with an IQ of two hundred had slipped through his fingers, made a fool of him, and he was forced to flee underwater to save his life, a life that lay completely at the mercy, or whims, or appetite, whatever drove the deadly jaws of a tiger shark.
For a brief moment, James wondered if that was how the girls he kidnapped felt when they realized their situation was hopeless, like they were at the mercy of a shark. But with the shark out of sight, the sympathy for the many girls he had sold into slavery faded until it disappeared. Franklin James returned to what he had chosen to become, a modern-day slaver who didn’t believe in sympathy, didn’t believe in grace, and didn’t believe in God. A man who believed only in himself.
He surfaced briefly, faced the Makena Beach Resort, dove, and swam hard towards his destination.
****
Lee pulled Jennifer close to his side while they watched the Coast Guard and police boats move into position to take the yacht. Like the timer on a bomb, the countdown to the capture ticked inexorably towards an explosion of violence.
Obviously the human traffickers were not going to surrender. If they brought Katie out as a shield for bargaining, he would take Jennifer off the observation deck. Knowing Katie was in the clutches of these men already stressed Jennifer to her limits. He couldn’t let her watch if…
With binoculars pressed against her face, Jennifer’s gaze swung towards one of the police boats. “Lee, they’re firing on the yacht.”
“That’s because the yacht’s crew hoisted anchor. Looks like they want to make a run for it.” It wasn’t good. No matter how he sliced it, the situation meant more danger for Katie.
“The windows by the wheel of the boat just shattered.”
“Makes sense,” Lee said. “They may have raised the anchor, but the yacht’s captain can’t steer the boat without getting shot. They’re not going anywhere.”
Jennifer spun the fine focus adjustment. “The gunfire has all the goons pinned down. I can see the three divers now. They’re armed and moving along the starboard side of the deck, clearing each cabin as they pass.”
“But Katie and the goons are on the other side. When they hoisted the anchor, the ship turned. We won’t be able to see what happens on the port side.”
“At the corner I see someone. It looks like Snake, firing an assault rifle. Can’t tell what he’s shooting at. He kicked a box sitting on the deck. It looks like he’s sliding it to a spot on the starboard side. It’s total chaos on the yacht.”
“Here comes—check the Coast Guard boat on the west side of the yacht. What kind of weapon is—”
“It’s a machine gun. A big one and—Lee, an explosion on the yacht!”
She lowered the binoculars and buried her face in his chest. “Please, Lord, save Katie from this.”
Lee echoed Jennifer’s prayer softly and then sought words to comfort her. “Katie’s no ordinary fifteen-year-old. She’s extremely bright and she’s strong. You escaped and she’s a lot stronger physically than you.”
Jennifer lifted her head from his chest and looked towards the yacht.
A second explosion painted orange flames over the entire yacht. Large pieces of the ship flew in all directions, littering the water with burning debris just as the deep boom reached them.
“No one could survive that. No one.” Her voice became soft, resigned, and her sobbing began.
The SEALS, or whoever the divers were, had bailed seconds before the boat exploded. He saw three heads bobbing in the water, and then all three submerged.
Four boats moved in close to the yacht. One began shooting an arc of water onto the burning yacht.
It was far too little and much too late. At best, Lee thought, they might prevent the yacht from sinking. If so, they could start forensics as soon as it was safe. Would they find Katie’s body charred into an unrecognizable corpse? Would it be riddled with bullet holes?
He had to stop this kind of speculation or lose his mind.
Jennifer sobbed against his chest.
And now his own tears dripped down and mingled with hers.
Their Maui honeymoon had turned into a nightmare last night. Would that now include a funeral? A funeral for one of the most beautiful and brightest young women he had ever known? The girl who was supposed to become their daughter?
33
Katie sucked in a short breath of air when Snake’s body went airborne. The coiled snake had struck from nearly ten feet away. His body darted toward her. Instinctively she squeezed the ceramic shard and flung her right arm back into throwing position. She had no time. Couldn’t wind up. Katie threw from the stretch. Her trained arm, now enhanced by adrenaline, cracked like a whip.
She delivered a fastball down the middle of the plate. A pitch much faster than any she had ever thrown. Katie pushed backward, backpedaling as she watched her throw hit its mark between Snakes beady, lifeless eyes.
A crack sounded like a baseball meeting a bat, like an extra-base hit. Blood exploded from Snake’s brow. He dropped to the floor at Katie’s feet. Snake made no sound. But best of all, he didn’t move.
She leapt over his body towards the cabin door, but the shockwave from an explosion hit her head like a club. Flames shot past the cabin door.
Katie shook off the dazed feeling, leaped through the residual flames from the explosion, and drew a deep breath as she dove over the railing. When she cleared it, she saw Mack step out of the adjacent cabin. He held an assault rifle.
The brief sting of flames was extinguished when her five-foot-nine frame slid into the warm water. She pulled hard for the bottom.
Pain! Excruciating pain came from two hammer-like blows to her back. Katie writhed in the water then felt for the spots on her back.
When she turned her head to look through the clear water at her back, a small object tumbled from her body and sank towards the bottom, then disappeared into the darkness below her. No blood. Thank God. Mack had shot her with the assault rifle. She sent another silent prayer of thanks heavenward for the outcome.
If she had been only three or four feet under, she would be either dead or dying. But somewhere between eight and ten feet below the surface, she received only painful bruises. Bruises showing she had been protected, protected by the God she was learning to trust more deeply every day.
Each time Katie kicked her legs, pain exploded across her lower back, but she couldn’t stop until the oxygen from her last breath was completely used up. Swimming ten feet under the surface, Katie pulled hard for shore, praying there would be no more gunfire. At the end of her breath, she rose to the uncertain welcome awaiting her at the surface.
****
Lee’s gaze moved from the scene of destruction in the water to Jennifer’s tear-streaked face.
She stepped close to him, her large brown eyes pleading for help. “Whatever the news, good or bad, I need to know something. Call Peterson, Lee. The crisis is over now. He should be willing to talk to us.”
Lee studied her eyes, her face, her body posture. “Are you sure? Can you handle—”
“Yes. Call. Now.” She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek into his chest. “Please.”
Lee drew a deep breath, steeling his mind for the worst, and pressed Peterson’s number on his speed dial. The call went directly to his voicemail. “He’s probably on the line.”
“Then wait about thirty seconds and call again. You can’t stop calling until you’ve reached him.” Jennifer blinked back tears. “I’ve cried until I can’t cry anymore, prayed until I can’t think of anything else to pray for, and I can’t stand this waiting. Please, try Peterson again.”
For the second time, Lee went through the process of preparing his mind and body for the call, then dialed.
Peterson answered on the second ring. “Lee, I was going to call you when we had the situation under—”
“Did you find Katie?” He pres
sed the button turning on his speaker phone, praying it wasn’t a mistake.
“We found evidence that Katie was on board, but we didn’t find her, and it looks like—”
“She was in the second cabin on the port side. That’s where they put me.”
“Is that you, Jennifer?”
“Yes. Did you check that cabin?”
“That’s where we found the evidence. It’s also where we found the remains of a tall skinny guy. It appears his nose had been hit hard and he had a deep gash on his forehead. He evidently laid there and partially burned, so we think he was unconscious. I’ve seen Katie in action. She might have disabled him. One other thing, we didn’t find the ring leader, James.”
Lee was encouraged by both Peterson’s news and the excitement growing in Jennifer’s eyes.
Jennifer leaned close to Lee’s cell. “Maybe Katie hit him with the ceramic ashtray that I broke and used to cut my restraints. I slashed another man’s neck with it when I escaped.”
“We did find something that sounds like a piece of your ashtray.” Peterson paused. “From where it lay in the cabin, it probably was the weapon. But I don’t see how Katie could have—”
“Peterson…” Lee interrupted. “I’ve seen Katie throw a baseball over eighty miles per hour. If she was afraid and fighting for her life, she might’ve sent a ninety mile per hour fastball into that guy’s—”
“Snake. Into Snake’s face.” Jennifer sounded breathless, and excitement filled her voice. “Lee, she got away! The same way that I did. Katie got away.”
“We’ve been combing the water around the yacht, but no signs of Katie.” Peterson heaved a heavy sigh. “So I’m not—”
“She can swim,” Lee said. “A lot faster than me. That’s how she got into trouble in the first place.”
“Then she’ll head for shore. But right after the explosion, I saw shooting on the yacht.” Jennifer’s frown returned. “We’ve got to find her soon. She may be hurt. She would swim for shore, like I did.”