by Linda Ladd
Novak went back up top and checked again for unwelcome visitors. Still alone in the middle of the sea. Nobody in sight. He went back down to the stateroom and sat on the bed beside the girl. She was in a lot worse shape than Marisol had been. She was sick and unconscious, maybe even in a shallow coma. He touched her face with his fingertips to rouse her. Her eyelids did flutter slightly, but that was it. He raised her eyelids. Her pupils were dark and dilated. He couldn’t tell what color they were. She had dark brown hair, with sun streaks the color of honey. The loose strands at her temples were stiff with dried blood. Just an innocent little kid, caught up in something horrible. He shook her arm gently, wanting her to awaken, but she only moaned softly and didn’t open her eyes. He stared at her a moment, and then he loosened the bandage around her head and examined her wound. It wasn’t an attempt to scalp her. She’d been struck with something. He saw a half-inch gash that had been doctored with Betadine and stitched up. Not by a doctor, though. Looked to Novak as if the Mayan had done it.
Novak just sat there beside her for a while, trying to control his anger. Every so often she would jerk her hand or her foot, as if dreaming. She never opened her eyes. She’d been treated medically somewhat, but what she really needed was a doctor and some antibiotics. Novak walked to the galley and filled a glass with water. She looked dehydrated, so thin and frail. No telling how long she’d been kept below in that dark hole. Her lips were dry, but she wasn’t conscious enough to take a sip. He rubbed water on her lips with his finger and tried to ease a few drops into her mouth. After he’d done this a couple of times, she subconsciously licked at the drops with her tongue. That was a good sign.
Novak left her again and checked out the sea for enemies. Nothing. He had lucked out so far. Calm water, medium swells. A beautiful day. He tried Jenn again. This time she picked up. She didn’t say anything, just waited.
“It’s me.”
“Where the hell are you? You said you’d be here waiting for us.”
“I ran into trouble once I got the boat out on the water. There was a little girl tied up in the bilge.” He hesitated. “I think that bastard tortured her.”
“Oh, my God. Is she dead?”
“Still alive, but barely. She’s got a fever, and I can’t wake her up.”
“Not good. Who is she? Do you know?”
“Don’t have a clue. She’s either drugged or unconscious. Dehydrated, and she looks like he might’ve starved her. I’ve got to get her to Doc before I come for you, or she’s gonna die. Is Marisol behaving?”
“Timid as a mouse all day long. Which is a bit out of character.”
“Don’t take your eyes off her for a single second.”
“Don’t worry. Okay, let me think about this a minute.”
Novak waited, but it didn’t take Jenn a minute. “We’ll be safe enough here at my house on the beach. Just hurry up and pick us up when you can.”
“It might be as late as tomorrow night.”
“That’s okay. Just call me when you’ve got the girl taken care of. You can anchor off my beach and we can swim out. Or better yet, sink that damn boat and we can fly out of here until things settle down.”
Flying the hell out sounded good to Novak. He had found himself a hell on earth south of the border, and he didn’t like it. He’d had enough. “Okay. Doc can help this kid, whoever she is. She’s in really bad shape.”
“How is Doc?”
“Fine, I guess. I haven’t seen him in about a year.”
“If he’s not drunk, he ought to fix her up.”
“He’s a better medic when he’s drunk.”
Jenn laughed softly. “Okay, just keep me posted. We’ll dig in here and wait.”
She clicked off. Novak felt pretty good. Jenn and Marisol were safe for the moment. All Jenn’s houses were secure and well protected, especially her own personal residence at the edge of that beautiful beach. They’d be all right until he got there. He climbed to the helm, started the engines, and pushed the controls down, slowly increasing speed, constantly on the lookout for pursuers. Because the Mayan was coming, and Novak knew it. All around him, the ocean was wide and empty and deep, that same dark royal blue. It felt good to be out there. In time, he caught the distant blue blur of an island.
The Calakmul’s navigational equipment was top of the line, but Novak had been to Doc’s home base more times than he could count. He knew the coordinates by heart. He set the boat on course, full speed ahead, and then went below to check on the child again. She was lying still, eyes closed. She looked terrible to him. He didn’t know how bad off she was, but it didn’t look good.
Novak spoon-fed her a few more drops of water and climbed back up to the helm. He sat there, watching the prow cut its way through the chop and thinking about what Jenn had said about flying back to the U.S. After a while, he picked up the sat phone and put in a call to his partner back in the States. Claire Morgan had been on her honeymoon the last time he’d seen her, but that hadn’t stopped her from helping him out when he needed someone to watch his back. He was going to have to ask for her help again. She was one of the few people he trusted. If he had his choice, he would get his own boat lifted out of the water and cleaned up and then sail back home, but that wasn’t going to happen. Right now, he was too deeply embroiled in Marisol’s mess. He wasn’t going anywhere. Not until this poor little girl was in Doc’s hands and both Marisol and Jenn were safe with Novak.
Claire picked up on the third ring. “Hey, Novak. You still out rolling in the deep? Feeling sorry for yourself? Nobody else invited?”
“Listen, I don’t have time to chat.”
“What the hell, Novak? You called me.” Slight pause. “What’s wrong? You’re in trouble, aren’t you? Where are you?”
“Out in the middle of the Caribbean, southeast of Chetumal, Mexico, heading for a friend’s private island.”
“That’s specific.”
“I need you to do something for me.”
“Name it.”
“Are you still on Kauai?”
“Nope, we’re back at Lake of the Ozarks and going over plans for my very own brand-new house that Black’s building for me. He’s still über-guilty that he got the old one blown up. But it’s well on its way and gonna be a sight to behold, unless I put a bit in his mouth and hold him back. You know what a big spender he is. But it is looking pretty cool, I’ve got to admit.”
“Can you get away?”
“For you? You bet. Just tell me where.”
“I need you to come get me in Black’s plane. If it’s okay with him. I’d like him to come, too, if he can cut loose from his patients.” But Novak already knew what Black would do. Pretty much everything was okay with Black where Claire was concerned.
Claire put her hand over the phone, and Novak heard her talking to somebody. Silence. One beat, two beats. Then she said, “Okay. Sounds good.”
Novak had to grin. It felt good to hear a voice he could trust. He’d had little reason to smile since he’d met up with Marisol Ruiz. Fortunately for him, Claire was always pretty much up for anything at any time. Sometimes that penchant for action got her in trouble. Sometimes she got Novak into trouble. Sometimes it was the other way around.
“Any reason why you can’t just sail back on the good ship Sweet Sarah?”
“Well, that’s a long story.”
“Your stories usually are.”
“Some pirates hijacked my boat and then some psycho Mayan serial killer scuttled it and started trying to kill me.”
“Come again?”
“You heard me. My brand-new, custom-designed Jeanneau Sun’s now sitting on the bottom of a sheltered cove just south of Chetumal, Mexico, near the mouth of the Rio Hondo.”
“Wow, Novak. Just wow.”
“I’m serious.”
“Yeah, I get that. Well, not to worry. We’re on our way. Where exactly are you?”
“Out at sea, like I said. East of the Belize coast. There’s a little ai
rstrip you can land on. Take down these coordinates.” He told her the GPS location. “It’s near Belize City. A friend of mine runs it. Just mention my name and he’ll let you set down.”
“Somebody else from your past, huh?”
“Yeah. You can trust him.”
“Okay, we’ll locate it on my brand spanking new computer setup that Black had to buy me. He had to buy me new everything because he still blames himself for what happened. It’s like Christmas around here, I’m telling you. Play your cards right and maybe you’ll get a shiny new toy, too.”
“Tell him to bring his medical bag.”
“That sounds ominous. Okay, just a sec. Black’s right here. He’s already nodding. I’ve got you on speaker.”
Novak waited a moment and then heard Black speaking in the background.
“He says we can be there in three to four hours, five at the most if we hit bad weather,” Claire told him. “That gonna work for you?”
“Yeah. Hopefully, we’ll be waiting for you at the airstrip.”
“Figures. Do we need to bring our 50 calibers?”
Claire was kidding. Novak wasn’t. “Yeah, if you’ve got them.”
“Crap, Novak. Tell me what’s going on down there. You’re gonna be okay, right?”
“It’s a long story that I don’t have time to get into. You don’t need to get involved any more than flying us out of here. Black’s gonna hate me for involving you.”
“Nah, not if he gets to tag along. You know what a sucker he is for this kind of stuff. All that Ranger training and covert ops and all that. Anyway, we’ve been off enjoying our own private paradise on earth for months now. It’s time to put some serious adventure back into our lives.”
“There are a couple of women I’m bringing, too. And a little girl, maybe.”
“That’s three more girls than you usually have around.”
“One of them says the serial killer is after her. I’m not sure who the injured kid is. But Jenn’s an old friend of mine. I want her to come out of this mess safe and sound. I’m going to make sure she’s okay, right after I get this little kid to Doc.”
“Black’s the best doctor I know. Bring the kid with us, too. We’ve got plenty of room on the plane, and plenty of medical supplies we can load up.”
“This girl can’t wait four or five hours. Doc’s closer.”
“Thought you said your boat’s on the bottom?”
“I did. The killer sank her. I’m going to get him before I come home. He doesn’t deserve to live another day.”
“I think I’ve heard this song before.”
“Call Jack Holliday if you need more firepower.”
“How many bad guys are you up against?”
“Most of them are already dead.”
“You’ve been busy.”
“The Mayan got most of them, and now he’s after me for stealing his boat and rescuing the kid. His specialty is slitting throats and taking scalps.”
“Damn, Novak. We better haul in a crate of M16s.”
“Just be careful. This guy is like a shadow.”
“So are you. It’ll probably take me almost five seconds to persuade Black to do this. We’ll take off as soon as we can get his plane gassed up, flight plan down, and then we’re on our way.”
“Like I said, be careful. You can’t mess with this guy. He’s deadly.”
“Yeah, they usually are.”
They hung up and Novak heaved a relieved breath, feeling a little better. He liked to do things himself, work alone, but this time he needed some help. Black and Claire were both as tough as they came. They knew what they were doing, and they were on their way. At the moment, he had to get the little kid into Doc’s capable hands and then head for Jenn’s beach house and get the women to that airstrip. At the moment, it seemed a doable situation. He just hoped his luck lasted a little longer this time.
Chapter Sixteen
About forty miles off the coast of Belize were the Hicks Cays. Northeast of the big island was the smaller Long Cay. Almost exactly between their northernmost shores was a tiny private island called Soledad Cay. It was owned by Doc Smithy, a guy like no other in Novak’s book. Doc had bought that little slice of paradise and in the process given up most of his military earnings and retirement but had never regretted it. The isle had been a good investment, then and now. Novak had set the navigation by memory and was heading straight for his good friend’s haven, hoping the brisk tailwinds whipping up and the cooperative currents would speed him along. The girl below was still unconscious, feverish—not doing so hot.
Doc had made himself a small, warm, sandy piece of heaven, all right, a destination that Novak always looked forward to visiting, mainly because of the absolute privacy. When he walked along those long tan beaches, he felt like nobody else existed in the world. That’s the way Novak liked it. That’s the way Doc liked it, too—maybe too many years spent in the military for both of them. Novak didn’t blame the guy. Smithy had been one of Novak’s compadres in the SEALs, a valiant medic who had saved the lives of countless wounded buddies without a care for his personal safety. He had been wounded half a dozen times, all while saving downed warriors. The guy had a boatload of Purple Hearts to show for his courage under fire. Novak had been one of those soldiers once upon a time, and he’d never forgotten what Doc had done for him. Novak trusted the guy with his life, had done so on several occasions. On the other hand, Doc was as eccentric as hell. Even he admitted his idiosyncrasies were world-class. A conspiracy theorist, he believed in and planned for invasion and world domination but had yet to decide who would be doing the invading and why.
Doc had built himself a big shady villa on the lee side of his island, sheltered in a protected cove. Novak had spent weeks at a time there and returned every chance he got when sailing this far south in the Caribbean. That’s where Novak was headed now, and with a great deal of urgency. When he spotted the island’s silhouette, he felt better, and then pretty much relaxed as he entered the cove. First thing he looked for was the American flag flying high off the top veranda. A small Marine Corps flag flapped in the wind just below it. The Marines flag had always been Doc’s signal to friends that he was home and all was well. If the Marines flag was down, he either wasn’t there or trouble was afoot. Trouble didn’t find Doc much anymore, but those conspiracy theories made him a super-cautious guy. Today both flags were snapping proudly in the wind coming off the water.
Relieved, Novak steered the boat all the way to the dock, cut the engines, and jumped out to secure the lines. After that, he checked on the girl, found her about the same, so he climbed back up and crossed the dock to the beach. He headed across the sand toward a flight of tall winding steps leading up to the bungalow. He was almost to the bottom of the steps when a shot rang out and sent splinters of wood flying off the banister near him. Novak hit the ground, and then he took off his sunshades and ball cap and stood up slowly, his arms stretched high and wide to show he was unarmed. “It’s me, Doc,” he shouted up at the house. “Novak. I come in peace.”
Far above him, on the second-story balcony, Doc stepped out from behind an elaborate bamboo screen, a big AR rifle still in his hands. He was smiling. “Sorry, my friend, I didn’t recognize the boat. I thought you bought yourself a new sailboat!”
“Long story. Come on down here, and I’ll tell you about it.”
Moments later, Doc stood next to him. They embraced, slapped each other’s backs, and then Doc pushed back and grinned up at Novak. He was a small man, five foot eight, maybe, but about as gutsy a soldier as any Novak had met. He was balding now, would look a lot like Friar Tuck with a thick ring of hair left over his ears if he didn’t shave his head. He had dark skin, but now his body was burnished darker still by the intense tropical sun and a life spent on the beach and out on the sea in his catamaran. His cheeks were lined, deep commas bracketing his mouth from lots of laughter and hard drink. His eyes were always bloodshot, and were now, too, and he still wore hi
s favored goatee and long Elvis sideburns.
Doc had earned all his ribbons and medals a thousand times over, and he had a ton of them packed away somewhere. He lived alone except for his Costa Rican wife, Auroria. She had now appeared up on the balcony and was waving to Novak and beckoning him to come up. Auroria was a little bitty thing, with dark hair and shiny black eyes that missed nothing, and probably the sweetest lady Novak had ever known. She treated Doc like a king and always had.
Novak shook the hand that Doc held out. “How the hell you been, Doc?”
“Good. You?”
“I’m in trouble.”
“Okay. What happened?”
“I really stepped in it this time.”
“That was your habit in days gone by, as I recall.”
“I’m gonna need your help. That’s why I’m here.”
“You got it. I owe you, remember?”
Novak had dragged Doc out of a firefight once, after he had killed Doc’s pursuer with a sniper bullet. They had been far up in the mountains of Afghanistan. Kunar Province. Doc had been hit, bad enough to cash out of the Marines, and afterward found this little isle and Auroria and made both of them his life. “Come aboard. There’s a little girl below who needs medical attention. She’s in bad shape, Doc.”
As they walked out to the boat together, Doc asked Novak lots of questions that he couldn’t answer. Once they were inside the girl’s cabin, Doc walked to the bed and stared down at the child. She lay on her back, very still, bruised and small and pitiful.
“Good grief, Novak, what the hell? She’s just a baby. What—eight, nine?”
“I don’t know how old she is. I don’t even know who she is. Not her name, not anything about her. I’m fairly confident that the guy who owns this boat sliced her up like this. I found her tied to a bed in the bilge, feverish and dehydrated.”