Say Your Goodbyes

by Linda Ladd

  Once she settled down and backed away from him, she acted embarrassed at her show of emotion. She wiped at her tears with her fingers, nose running, eyes red and swollen. Novak needed more information to put his mind at ease. “Should I take you back to your father, then?”

  That got through her misery quickly enough. “No! No, he wouldn’t even pay the ransom for me. He just let them have me and didn’t care that they hurt me. I hate him. I really do. Really, I hate him so much.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “She’s afraid of him, too. He hits her, too. She’d tell him if I called her. She’d be afraid not to.”

  “Anybody else you can turn to? Uncles, aunts, grandparents, friends?”

  “They’re all afraid of him. Everybody’s afraid of him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s rich and powerful and can make people do whatever he says.”

  “How does he do that? Is he a criminal?”

  She hesitated a long time. “No.”

  “What’s his name?”

  More hesitation. More fearful looks out to sea. She finally told him, but in a whisper. “His name is Henrique Martinez.”

  Novak sat up straighter. He knew all about Henrique Martinez, all right. Last he’d heard, the guy was a powerful general working his way up in the Mexican military. A dirty guy, brutal and deadly. On the take, and had been for decades. Novak had heard of him when he was on missions in Mexico. Now things were getting damn serious, and fast. No wonder the kidnapper dumped Isabella in the ocean and left her to die. He was already a dead man walking for daring to take Martinez’s daughter. So was Novak, as soon as Martinez found out that his daughter was on his boat.

  After that tidbit of information, Novak decided it wise to head back home to Bonne Terre as fast as his boat would take him. They would be safer on American soil, and on his home turf. It would take days to get there, and the girl was getting more and more anxious about not having a passport and ID—apparently, a tad savvier about travel documents than she had first admitted. As it turned out, however, they didn’t have to worry about her passport. The bad guys caught up with them about sixty miles off Cozumel.

  Chapter Four

  Novak’s first clue that they were in for a hard day came the moment he heard the slow, steady thumps coming his way. He knew the sound. He recognized it instantly—helicopter rotors beating their way out over the water and straight at him. He grabbed a pair of binoculars and searched the sky until he picked out the helo, a lone dark spot on the blue sky, about the size of a mosquito. Isabella jumped up from her seat under the canopy and watched the bird approach them, flying low and flying fast. She looked two degrees from terrified.

  “Who are they?” Novak asked her, pretty sure she knew. Pretty sure she had known all along that this wasn’t over, that they would be pursued to the ends of the earth, if necessary.

  “I don’t know,” she called back. “I promise! I swear it! You’ve got to believe me! Please believe me!”

  Way too hysterical with the protestations. Novak didn’t believe her. Except for the fear. Novak grabbed the rifle, sure as hell ready to defend his boat. He didn’t know who the guys in the copter were yet, but they weren’t going take his boat. Not without a fight. He kept the weapon pressed to his shoulder, his eye at the scope, and aimed at the copter’s rotors. The bird was flying in low at them from the starboard bow. Novak kept the throttle at full speed ahead as the sleek aircraft performed a wide banking circle around the boat and then roared back to hover about fifty yards off his port side.

  Novak knew exactly what they were doing, too. He’d been on birds that had done similar maneuvers. They were hovering up there, relaying his location to reinforcements. Boats already in the water. The Sweet Sarah’s GPS reading was going out right now to their men, and that meant more dangerous company was on its way. It also told him that whoever was in that chopper had military training. That took everything up a notch. Now his as-yet-unknown enemy was up close and personal and hazardous to his health, and he did not know how or why or what the hell was going on. That also meant the girl might be a highly important asset to somebody somewhere, so she would probably live through the coming assault on his boat. Novak didn’t put himself in the “valuable” category. He just might end up dead in a matter of minutes.

  Taking careful aim at the stationary helicopter, he squeezed off a couple of warning rounds just under it. The pilot banked the aircraft hard right and quickly put a hundred more yards of distance between them. Then they stayed right with him, circling the sky just out of his gun range. When they decided to come in low again, Novak squeezed off two more warning shots. After that, he picked up the sat phone and put in a quick SOS to the U.S. Coast Guard, relaying his GPS coordinates and telling them to make it quick, that he was under attack. But he didn’t have much hope, not this far south of U.S. waters. Then he hung up and confronted Isabella Martinez.

  “If the Coast Guard doesn’t get here fast enough, and there’s probably not a snowball’s chance in hell that they will, we are going to be boarded, searched, robbed maybe, my boat hijacked, and you will be taken prisoner again. This is your last chance to level with me about who these people really are and what they want with you. I’m not kidding around anymore. Level with me. Now.”

  “I don’t know who they are! I don’t think Papi would’ve sent them after me! He didn’t want to pay off Diego, so he doesn’t even care about me anymore.”

  Novak scowled down at her, wishing to God that he’d never laid eyes on her. “Can you shoot a gun?”

  She shook her head. “No sir, I’ve never even held a gun in my hand. Not ever.”

  “Okay, just get below and hide somewhere. Don’t make a sound. Don’t come out, no matter what. Maybe it’s not you they’re after. Maybe it’s just some band of Mexican thieves, out here to shake us down for money and steal my boat. They’ve been warning sailors down here about those kinds of attacks for several months now. They mean business and they’re willing to kill, so don’t get cute with them. Let me try to reason with them. But once they see you, they’re gonna take you for ransom.”

  “I’m sorry, Señor Novak! This is all my fault!”

  Tell me about it, Novak thought. She was scared and he wasn’t going to badger her, not now. Later? That was a distinct possibility. “Just find a good place to hide and don’t show yourself unless I call and tell you to come up. If they do board us and we manage to make it to shore alive without them finding you, wait until dark and then try to slip into the water without being heard after they tie up this boat. That’s the only way you’ll get away from them unharmed. Understand me, kid? It won’t go well for you, not if they figure out who you are and that your daddy’s got a lot of money.”

  Isabella gave him her usual terrified look. This time the fear looked quite genuine, and she ought to be frightened. If these guys were the kind of low-life scum he thought they were, she would be mistreated, and that was putting it mildly. He’d heard about these modern pirates, been warned daily by Coast Guard alerts that these bands of miscreants were boarding ships and holding Americans for ransom. Novak watched Isabella run down the steps and disappear belowdecks. Then he sat down at the helm, throttle on full speed ahead and holding the high-powered rifle at the ready. He didn’t have a chance against them and he knew it, especially after he saw four big boats speeding toward him. They were moving fast and in a perfect chevron formation. More army finesse. If they caught him out here in the middle of nowhere, there would be no escape. He and Isabella both would be at their mercy.

  So he resigned himself to impending capture and kept the sailboat heading north without letting up on his speed. Even with sails down and the engines running close to full-out, it was only a matter of minutes now. They’d catch up to him, unless the Coast Guard showed, and they were nowhere to be seen. That meant he was either gonna be dead or held for ransom, right alongside the girl. When that happened, it wouldn’t matter anymore who s
he really was. Because the more Novak had considered her story, the less he believed she was the daughter of some crooked general. Something didn’t smell right about her story. But too late now. It was out of his hands.

  The sea bandits had matching boats—big fast racing boats. Boats that cut the water like blades and leaped high into the waves. Within minutes, they had eaten up the distance and encircled the Sweet Sarah. The helicopter ventured closer, right over Novak’s head, sending a stiff wash of wind down on him. He could see a gunner strapped in at the open door, an AR15 assault rifle pointed down at him. The bird was painted jungle green and was no private aircraft. This was a military operation, or at the very least, a paramilitary one. Probably the latter. Maybe even a renegade bunch out of the Mexican army. If the gunner opened up on Novak, he would be dead in seconds. Things were not going to turn out well for him, no matter how the capture went down or who they were.

  Minutes later, the gunner opened up and stitched a row of warning shots across the aft deck, not a yard in front of Novak. Cursing the damage done to his new boat, Novak let up on the throttle and played their game. Then the Sweet Sarah lost steam and eventually floated dead in the water. Novak was not stupid enough to make a run for it against four well-armed swift enemy boats and an armed helicopter.

  Novak stayed in place at the helm and watched and waited. The attack boats approached him from all sides, two easing in and tying up at port and starboard. A pretty good operation, well done, well ordered. Novak kept his own rifle lying across his knees, his finger lightly on the trigger, a prudent move for self-preservation. He was outgunned, but if they decided to kill him on the spot, he’d be damned if he’d go down without taking some of them along with him. Still, he didn’t kid himself. This was serious business. If found, Isabella was in for one horrific ordeal with these guys. She would be the prize in this takedown, and animals like these would pass her around like a bag of popcorn at a Saturday night movie.

  The first man who swung aboard looked like a Nazi Gestapo officer. He was dressed all in black: T-shirt, pants, leather combat boots, cap with a shiny black visor, and Kevlar vest. Aviator sunglasses. The expensive kind. Mirrored. He was carrying a big and very capable AK-47. He stopped about four feet away from Novak, pointed his weapon at Novak’s chest, and took stock of the situation. He was the one in charge of the boats. No doubt about it.

  Four other guys scrambled up and spread out behind their boss. They looked Hispanic and were dressed the same as their leader, all in black, wearing Kevlar and pointing four more AK-47s at him. They all wore the black hats and expensive mirrored sunglasses. Novak could see five small images of himself and his rifle reflected back at him. Yeah, a matched set of modern-day pirates. Walking the walk, looking the look. Nobody moved for several moments, all of them staring down the barrel of Novak’s rifle. He kept his weapon aimed steadfastly at the leader’s head.

  “What is this?” he asked the guy in Spanish. “Whatever the hell it is, are you willing to die for it?”

  Their weapons remained locked on him, and a quick glance told him the other guys on the surrounding boats were standing up with their weapons pointed at him. Not good odds. Zero odds, in fact.

  “Please don’t do anything stupid, sir. Put down your gun. Obey my commands or die where you stand. My men don’t mind killing you, trust me.” Well, surprise, surprise, this guy was a Brit and spoke in perfectly clipped U.K. English, an aristocrat straight out of the House of Lords, in Novak’s judgment. Every word had been awash with haughty inflection. Novak had not been expecting that. His guess? This guy was a former MI6 officer with experience in covert operations. He’d gone over to the dark side to match his clothes.

  He spoke again, his words slightly apologetic. “I don’t mind them killing you, you understand. Shoot me, and you’ll die, too. Your choice.”

  The leader was a serious guy, not nervous, not anxious, just matter of fact. Do it or die. He had been well trained. When Novak didn’t react, he tried again. “I am expendable, you understand. My orders are to take you and your fine vessel, whatever the cost. Believe me when I say that it will go much easier for you if you cooperate with us. So stand down and be taken, sir. There is no dishonor in surrender when facing overwhelming odds.”

  Now that was a man who obeyed without question. That he was willing to die for pirate booty seemed a little much to Novak. “Who are you? What do you want? Why me? Why my boat?”

  “Actually, I guess you’d say that we’re pirates, as you probably have already ascertained. More sophisticated, disciplined, and organized than our counterparts of old. We are commandeering this boat, sir. And we want you, too, of course, as a hostage. We make our largest profits in ransoming U.S. citizens.”

  The guy was a polite pirate. No argh, ahoy matey crap being bantered about. More of a tallyho, chap, please surrender or I will put a bullet in your head vibe. Polished, well spoken, and highly educated. Truth be told? They had hit the jackpot and just didn’t know it. They weren’t going to find out, either. Novak had a ton of money in his name, most of it stashed away in banks all over the world—millions, in fact—all inherited from his mother and her wealthy French family on the day he was born. He also held the title to her ancient plantation called Bonne Terre, deep in the bayous of Lafourche Parish, where he still lived, also worth a small fortune. But he wasn’t going to tell them that. He wasn’t going to tell them a damn thing, not even his real name. “You won’t get much out of me. I’m a boat bum. The Sweet Sarah here? She’s all I’ve got.”

  “Not anymore. We lay claim to her right now. She’s a sweet little prize, almost new by the looks of her. You keep her up very well. Probably worth a keen $50,000, $80,000 on the black market, I’d wager. Certainly worth the time it took to chase you down.” He glanced down the companionway. “We’ll get even more for that cute little bird you’re hiding down below. You would not believe what a young girl like that is worth to her parents. Or, an even more lucrative asset to buyers from the Middle East. Call her up here. Save us the trouble and it will go easier for you.”

  Novak just stared at him. “What girl?”

  “Please, sir, don’t be stupid and die to protect her. Our people in the helo saw her clearly. Described her to me in detail. Said she was quite young. Women are fine commodities in the places where we deal. I know you want her to stay that way, so tell her to come up here and give herself up. Then all will end well. Otherwise, we’ll drag her up here and shoot you down, and then she’ll be ours anyway.”

  “What girl?” Novak repeated.

  Four rifles ratcheted around him. Barrels beaded on him. Novak kept his weapon right where it was. If the Brit was ready to die, Novak could oblige him. “You will bite it, too. You do understand that? Last warning I’m gonna give you.”

  “No, no! I’m right here! Don’t shoot him! He’s just trying to take me home! That’s all. Please don’t hurt him!”

  Isabella flew up the steps and out onto the deck between them, ready to save Novak’s bacon. Novak cursed inside. Damnation, what the hell was she doing? Isabella stood there in the bright sunlight and blinked from the sun’s glare. She had both hands up high over her head. She had on one of his oversize black Tshirts, tied in a knot at her waist this time, and her black shorts and her black boat shoes. She looked very young and very small and very vulnerable.

  The Brit looked at Novak and grinned knowingly. He was short, stood about five feet nine inches, maybe. His teeth looked white in his tanned face. He showed them to Novak for a long moment. “Well, this is just brilliant. Now, this behavior is so much more civilized than aiming guns at one another. You are smart to cooperate with us, young lady. Smarter than your big friend here, it appears. And now, thanks to you, nobody gets hurt. Everybody lives another day. We will take you both captive, and you will go free as soon as your family pays your ransom. There you have it. We all come out winners in the end.”

  If the guy said tallyho or anything akin to it, Novak was going to shoot him
. And they hadn’t come out winners. They’d both be dead before the money order came through. Novak didn’t move a muscle, or the direction of his rifle barrel. Sat like stone. So did all the pirates. Silence reigned for a few moments. The boat rocked forcefully on the waves. Nobody lost their footing. The helo had come in closer now, and the rotors were sending a raging wind down over them.

  As it turned out, Isabella decided that she was a professional mediator. She looked at Novak and smiled sweetly. “Come on, please, Mr. Novak, don’t get yourself shot down on my account. You’ve done enough to help me. Just surrender and we’ll be okay. I know it. He said we would.”

  Shit, there went the false name and identity he’d been planning to give them, a designated signal that dinged the computer of an old army buddy of Novak’s and gave him a heads-up that Novak was in trouble anytime the name was researched on the Internet. God, he was so damn sorry he had ever pulled that girl out of the sea. She walked forward to the Brit, hands still held high, and was quickly taken captive by two of the men behind him. They roughed her up a little, jerked her around, pushed her, because they were bad guys and wanted everybody to know it. They forced her down on a banquette in the shade of the canopy. Novak’s jaw locked. When they aimed their guns at her head, Novak laid down his weapon. Just as they knew he would.