“Forget it,” Noah said.
Wright laughed. He strode to the end of the table and tapped a button on the television. The monitor blinked on. Noah gasped at what he saw. His mother and father were sitting in two chairs, tied up just like he was. Both had gags in their mouths.
“Mom! Dad!” Noah shouted.
“They can’t hear you at the moment,” Wright said. He picked up the camera and pointed it at his face. He pushed a switch. “Paul, can you hear me?”
“Yes, boss,” a deep voice cackled from a speaker in the television.
“Good. And Frank and Riley can hear me?”
Noah looked at the television. Frank and Riley both nodded their heads.
“Paul, they can see their monitor?”
“We’re all set up,” Paul answered.
“Excellent. Take their gags off.”
Noah watched as a huge hulk of a man came into the picture. He went behind Noah’s parents and removed their gags.
“We’ve told you everything we know,” Frank sputtered. “Please, just let my wife go.”
“I wish I could do that,” Wright said as he held the camera at arms’ length, pointed to his own face. “And I think you can be of further assistance.”
“But we’ve told you…” Riley began.
“I think not, Mrs. Winter,” Wright interrupted her. “I have someone who will help persuade you to work with me.” Wright turned the camera on Noah.
“Noah!” Riley cried out.
“Noah, son! Don’t you harm him,” Frank yelled. He twisted in his chair, straining against the ropes.
Wright nodded at Chang. Chang bent down and untied Noah’s right arm. He yanked the arm up, slammed Noah’s hand on the table, and spread the fingers apart. Then he unsheathed his knife. Noah trembled. Chang placed the knife over Noah’s pinky, just touching the skin.
“What did you say about harming him?” Wright said.
“No!” Riley and Frank both shouted.
“It would be a shame to lose a finger, and at such a young age,” Wright said.
Noah shook, fighting back tears.
“We’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt him!” Riley pleaded.
“Please,” Frank said. His voice quivered.
Wright stared at Noah for a second, then jerked his head. Chang backed away. Wright turned the camera back on himself.
“Very well,” he said at last. “I will be there shortly. And we will interpret the map correctly.” He inhaled, then let his breath out slowly. “It’s such a shame to have to resort to threats like this.”
Noah let his hand fall off the table, back at his side. He nerves prickled with a growing anger. Now that the imminent threat was over, he fumed about what Wright might do to his parents.
Wright turned off the television. He set the camera on the table.
“Come, Chang.” Wright strode to the door. “I’ll need your help. I’m sure the Winters will be somewhat distraught after this ghastly episode.” At the door, he turned around. “Someone will be here shortly to take you back to your room. If you want to keep all your fingers, I suggest you mind your manners.”
Noah gulped as the door slammed shut. He couldn’t believe what had happened. And he also couldn’t believe that Chang had forgotten to bind his hand back up!
Noah jumped into action. He untied his left arm and then his legs. He untangled himself from the cords and dashed to the door. Locked. Noah frantically scanned the room, searching for an escape. Nothing but four padded walls, no windows, no air ducts.
“Think,” Noah chided himself. He chewed his lower lip. “Wait. They’re sending someone for me.”
Noah snatched the cord from the floor, his mind already forming a plan. He lashed one end of the cord to the table leg. He looped the other end around his hand and crouched on the floor next to the door. He pulled the cord taut, holding it about six inches from the floor. He didn’t have long to wait.
A few minutes later, the door opened. Dave ‘The Wrench’ Dixon entered the room, his eyes focused on the chair and table, not the floor. Just as he realized that Noah was not sitting in the chair, his right foot tripped on the cord. He stumbled forward. Noah tugged the cord up. Dave’s other foot became entangled in the cord. He fell hard, striking his head on the edge of the table. He yelped as he hit the floor, then lay still.
Noah closed the door, but left it unlatched so he could get out. He scrambled over and pounced on Dave. He took the cord and tied Dave’s hands behind him. Noah grabbed the remaining cord and bound his feet. Satisfied that Dave was firmly secured, Noah rolled him over and searched his pockets. He found a cell phone, wallet, and a small switchblade. Noah pocketed the phone and wallet. He pulled off his shirt and using the knife, cut a strip of fabric from the bottom of it. He took the piece and shoved it into Dave’s mouth.
“That should keep you,” Noah muttered as he put his shirt back on.
He stood up and tiptoed to the door. He opened it a crack and peeked out. He saw no one, and heard nothing. He slipped out of the room and eased the door shut. He hurried along the hall and crept down the stairs. Where were Wright and Chang? And more importantly, where were his parents?
Voices drifted toward him. Noah turned and sprinted the other way. He came to a living room with a high, vaulted ceiling. He bent down and dashed across it.
“Hey, it’s the kid!”
Noah turned and recognized the man with the flat face, who entered from the other side of the room. Noah gave up all pretense of hiding. He ran down another short hallway but there was nowhere to go. He was trapped. Footsteps pounded behind him. At the last second, Noah noticed a door. He flung it open and ran through. He was in a two-car garage. Noah’s eyes darted around. A 2-by-4 board leaned against the wall. He grabbed it and jammed one end under the door handle. The handle wiggled as the man tried to open the door, but the board prevented the handle from turning.
“Open the door!” the man yelled.
Noah hurried to a four-wheel all-terrain vehicle. It was similar to the one that he drove on the beach sometimes.
He pounded the seat. “No keys.”
Noah looked around. On the other side of the garage were three Kawasaki motorcycles. All had the keys in the ignition. Anthony had taught Noah how to drive a motorcycle, but Anthony had always sat behind Noah, coaching him. Noah hesitated. A pop like a firecracker made him jump. The man with the flat face was shooting at the door! Noah went to the bike. He’d have to drive it without any help.
Noah was about to jump on the closest motorcycle when he saw two spear guns hanging on the wall next to some scuba gear. Noah grabbed a gun and spear. He set them on the seat and mounted the motorcycle, sitting on the gun and spear. He turned the key, switched the fuel valve on, hit the starter button, and the Kawasaki roared to life. His legs were too short to kick up the kickstand, so Noah twisted the throttle and the motorcycle shot out of the garage. Noah glanced over his shoulder. The man had blasted through the door and was running to the other motorcycles.
Noah had no idea where he was. He steered down a long cement driveway and then onto a dirt road lined with palm trees. He hit a bump and careened to the right, almost losing control of the motorcycle. The back wheel spun and then the bike righted itself. Noah sped up. He gritted his teeth and worked to keep from crashing. The motorcycle was heavier than the one he’d learned on, and it was difficult to manage. Wind whipped by his face and dust got in his eyes. When he turned to look back, he saw the man with the flat face gaining on him.
A wood fence lay ahead. The road suddenly veered to the left. Noah couldn’t turn the bike in time. He crashed through the fence and into a bunch of mangrove trees. Leaves struck his face. His skin smarted as he kept driving. Then, he broke into the open. Ahead he saw rocks and sand covering the landscape, then the whitecaps of the ocean. Now he knew he was on the north side of the island. He was quickly approaching the cliff face near the cave where he and Anthony had found the box.
The man with the f
lat face was still close behind, his mouth twisted into a snarl. Noah looked frantically to the left and right. Too many jumbled boulders and trees. He had nowhere to go!
So, Noah made a decision. He gritted his teeth and gunned the throttle. The Kawasaki exploded forward and Noah watched as the azure ocean filled his vision. The motorcycle bounced around on the rough ground, but Noah held on. Then the land disappeared below him. Noah shot out into open space, the Kawasaki’s wheels spinning uselessly. Noah felt weightless for a moment. Then he and the Kawasaki plummeted downward.
CHAPTER TEN
DANGEROUS ROCKS
The Kawasaki slammed into the water with a resounding smack, creating a huge splash. The impact knocked Noah off the bike. He hit the water hard, then sank underwater. His lungs cried for air. He kicked hard, propelling himself upward.
Noah’s head bobbed out of the water. He sucked in a great lungful of air, then coughed violently. As he caught his breath, he checked himself over. No cuts, no broken bones, but his left shoulder hurt some. He’d been extremely lucky. The speed of the motorcycle had launched it out far enough that he’d missed landing on dangerous rocks along the shore. The water was still shallow, about twenty feet deep. Noah started to swim toward the shoreline when he heard a loud popping sound. He looked up. The man with the flat face was aiming a pistol at him. Crack! Noah instinctively ducked and dove down into the water.
The water distorted his vision, but he saw the Kawasaki lying on its side on the sandy sea floor. Noah spied the spear gun and spear nearby. He swam down and retrieved both. His lungs burned for air and his shoulder throbbed. He pushed off against the sea floor and shot to the surface.
The man was scanning the water. He saw Noah and aimed the pistol at him.
Noah submerged again, but this time, he swam to the north, away from the cliff. When he needed oxygen again, he surfaced. The man was focused back to the south. But he turned and saw Noah again. He aimed again. Noah didn’t hear the shot this time, but he heard the whapping sound as the bullet pierced the water nearby.
Noah twisted away from the shore, trying to get out of range of the gun. His progress was slow because he was carrying the spear gun, and his shoulder ached. After a moment, Noah realized he wasn’t hearing gunshots. He turned around and treaded water. The man was talking into a walkie-talkie. Noah waited, catching his breath. Then he heard a sound, a high-pitched hum, interrupted by a whacking sound. It came closer.
Noah turned around. A man on a jet ski was bounding toward him. Noah dove under the water. His body jostled viciously in the surf as the Jet Ski passed over him. Noah kicked, forcing himself downward. He peered up through the rippling water. The Jet Ski was turning around. Noah thought frantically. If he went farther out to sea, he would eventually tire out. Then he would be a sitting duck for the Jet Ski. He made a quick decision, pushing toward the shore.
Noah’s lungs craved oxygen. He floated to the surface, not far from the Jet Ski. The man saw him and turned in a loop, barreling down on him again. Noah gulped some air and dove under again. This time he swam as quickly as he could toward the rocky reef along the shore. He was working against the current and fighting panic. He could not keep avoiding the Jet Ski.
Noah had to surface. His head bobbed up and he sucked in air again. The Jet Ski came at him, engine revving hard. Noah flailed with his legs, twisting downward. The underside of the Jet Ski hit his foot. He screamed in pain, air bubbles rising around him. Just before he floated up, Noah realized he was near an outcropping of rocks that was below the surface. He could hide there.
The Jet Ski zoomed by, nearly hitting him again. Noah thrashed in the waves and swallowed a mouthful of salt water. He spat and coughed. By this time, the Jet Ski was rocketing toward him again. Noah could see the man driving it. He was grimacing evilly at Noah.
Noah took in a lungful of air and dove under. He kicked madly until he reached the rocks. He wrapped his legs around one of them. Gaining his balance, he quickly loaded the spear into the spear gun. He watched above him. The Jet Ski had circled again and was whizzing toward him.
Noah braced himself against another rock. He had one shot so he had to make it count. The Jet Ski bounced over the water, coming closer. Noah aimed the spear gun. As the Jet Ski passed over him, Noah pulled the trigger. The gun jolted in his hand and the spear cut through the water. It struck the underside of the Jet Ski.
The Jet Ski swirled in a loop, then careened toward the shore. Noah surfaced, gasping for air. He turned around just as the Jet Ski collided into the rocks near the shore. The driver flew into the air, landing on a rock. He rolled over and clutched at his back. Then he lay down. Noah dove under again, but this time he looked up to the cliff. The man with the flat face was shading his eyes, looking at the wreckage of the Jet Ski.
Noah dropped the spear gun and swam toward the cliff. When he reached the shore, he ducked in between the rocks, hidden from the man up above. The rocky reef covered a large area off the shore, with outcroppings jutting into the air here and there. Noah moved forward carefully, fighting the current. He edged on and soon he could now touch the sand with his feet. He rested for just a moment with his head above water. He was exhausted and his shoulder hurt. Fish darted around as Noah picked his way through the rocks. When he arrived at the cliff face, he stopped and listened. The man was above him about twenty feet.
The cliff face was rough, with rocky outcroppings and ledges. Noah studied it for a moment. He thought he could climb it. He quickly kicked off the tennis shoes and pulled off his socks. He grasped a rock and hauled himself up. Water dripped from his body and his clothes stuck heavily to his skin. He put a bare foot into a toehold and pushed on. He wasn’t sure what he would do once he got to the top, but he didn’t want to stay in the water. More than halfway up, he heard the man up above start talking. Noah froze, gripping the rocks with his fingers and toes.
“Georgie’s down on a rock. I don’t know if he’s okay.” The man paused, listening. “I don’t know where the kid is. He must’ve drowned.” Another moment of silence. “How am I supposed to check on Georgie?” Another long pause. “Fine. I’ll climb down. I might break my neck, but fine. Just get a boat out here, too. Okay, I’ll meet you down there.”
By now Noah was less than ten feet from the top. He could hear the man pacing above him, muttering.
“He must think I’m crazy. I can’t climb down there.”
Noah scrambled up the last few feet. His head was now just below the top of the cliff. He could see tufts of grass growing at the cliff’s edge. He could almost reach out and grab a small tree branch. The man sidled up to the edge of the cliff. Noah could see the tip of his boot.
“How am I gonna do this?” the man said to himself. He cursed. “It’s either this or face the boss.”
He turned around and got on his knees. He slid his body down and lowered a foot right past Noah’s face. The foot flopped around, trying to find a purchase.
Noah grabbed the man’s pant leg and yanked as hard as he could. He almost lost his balance, but he was more fortunate than the man.
“Yaaaaahhh,” the man screamed as he fell past Noah. He flayed his arms out, snatching at air. He hit the water with a splatter, miraculously missing any rocks. He floated to the surface, flinging hair out of his face. He sputtered for a second.
Noah crawled the last few feet up the cliff. Sand and dirt stuck to his wet clothes. The rough rocks hurt his bare feet, but he ignored the pain. He jumped to his feet and looked over the edge. The man was treading water, spitting and coughing.
“I’ll get you, you little punk!” he yelled at Noah. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, opened it, then realized it was dead. He threw it up at Noah. It bounced harmlessly on the cliff face.
Noah ran to the man’s motorcycle. The key was stuck in the ignition. Noah hopped on and started the bike. He could still hear the man hollering from below as the engine roared to life. Noah cranked the throttle and the bike leaped forward. He drove
back over the rocks to the broken fence. Once he was on the dirt road, he sped down the path, back to Isaiah Wright’s house.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE DONZI
As Noah approached the Wright house, he cut the engine on the motorcycle. It coasted for a few feet, then Noah guided it into a clump of oak trees at the edge of the long driveway. He dismounted and leaned the bike against a tree trunk. Low, spreading branches of a tree hid Noah and the motorcycle. He listened for noise, then poked his head around the branches and watched the house. No one seemed to be about. Wright and his men were either in the house, or had gone to find the man with the flat face and his companion.
Noah ducked under the oak branches and raced up the driveway. He rushed into the garage, breathless. He paused by the ATV. No one had seen him. He strode to the door and quietly opened it. He heard nothing so he slipped into the house. He pressed himself against the wall. Cool air enveloped him, chilling his wet clothes, but Noah didn’t notice. He was too focused on finding his parents. He had to get them off Wright’s island.
Faint voices interrupted the silence. Noah crept down the hallway to the living room. He paused just before entering the room.
“His parents will give us the exact location of the emerald, I assure you.”
Isaiah Wright was speaking!
Goose bumps ran up Noah’s arms as he heard Wright talking. Noah peeked around the corner. Wright and another man were sitting in leather wing-back chairs in a large second-floor loft that looked down on the living room. The other man was in jeans and a black tee shirt. Even from a distance, Noah could tell that the man was strong and athletic, with thick biceps and large hands. Chang leaned against a railing, observing them.
Noah hadn’t noticed the loft before because he’d been too busy running from the man with the flat face. Noah studied the layout of the living room. He had no way of crossing it without being seen. He knelt down and listened.
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