Stella answered. “Five o’clock.”
“Then that’s west,” Storm said, and pointed out the window where the sun streamed in.
“And we’re heading south,” Stella said.
The sight of a big house on a bluff overlooking the shoreline validated Storm’s theory. They were heading to the Makena area, toward the area around Lara’s beach house. It made sense, if that’s what Obake had been trying to acquire. That’s where the confrontation would be, where he could rub Lara’s face in her defenselessness. It would just about drive her over the edge. He had her vulnerability pegged.
Storm looked over her shoulder at Stella and Keiko. “Did you know about Lara’s property at Makena?”
Stella nodded. “Her father left it to her. He bought it for a song in the seventies. It had a fishing shack on it. Barb and I used to skinny dip and drink beer there.” She smiled at the memory. “We took the girls when they were little. We’d walk the beach, looking for cowry shells and glass balls. Remember those?”
Keiko looked blank, but Storm knew what she was talking about. The blown glass balls, floats for fishing nets, were now collectors’ items. Storm had looked for them with her parents, and she felt a pang at the memory. It was a good memory. She wanted to share it with her own children one day. And Hamlin, too.
She turned to Keiko and Stella. “Where’s that box cutter?”
Keiko handed it to her, and Storm went to the door, where she put the palms of her hands flat on the door. She could feel the vibration of the engine through the wood, which was constructed of solid planks an inch thick, unlike the common hollow interior doors in modern buildings. The door had a small brass lever instead of a door knob, which moved freely up and down.
“Do you remember what kind of lock is on this door?” she asked.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Storm ran the blade in the thin space between the white-painted door and the bulkhead. The door was such a tight fit that the blade caught on bumps and rough spots in the wood. About two inches above the brass door handle, the blade came to a solid stop.
Neither Keiko nor Stella could remember a lock, and the only part of this cabin with which they had any familiarity was the head. Stella had been out on the boat twice, Keiko once.
Keiko, who had taken up a post at the land-side window, reminded Storm and Stella that she wasn’t confident in the water. She was doing all right with the motion of the cabin, though. Better than Storm, who was beginning to feel the headachy lethargy that preceded seasickness. She was no stranger to motion sickness. Headache and lassitude were the first stage; the next would be weakness and nausea. After that, she’d be on her knees at the porcelain bowl. At that point, she’d welcome Obake throwing her into the ocean, no matter how far out they were.
They needed to get out of there. Storm went to the porthole, gasped at the fresh air, and went back to the blade she’d left sticking in the crack of the door. She’d checked the latch in the tiny head, which was a metal hook that slipped into a little round eye. It would a blessing if that were the kind of obstacle that held them in the cabin.
It was doubtful; when she tried to push up on the device, it didn’t budge. The barrier felt solid from above and below, and the blade encountered it with a soft metallic click. There were probably many kinds of locks that she didn’t know about, but the only other one she could think of was a bar that slid into a pocket or bracket.
So she carved away tiny slivers of paint to give the blade more lateral play. Meanwhile, the close, hot work made her dizzier and more nauseated.
“You don’t look so good,” Keiko said. “Let me work on it.”
Storm lurched to the window, where she let the light breeze ruffle her hair. Then she lay down. Just for a minute.
Next thing she knew, Stella was at her side, tugging on her arm and whispering, “Wake up.”
The cabin had cooled, as the sun no longer blasted through the porthole. It was late in the afternoon, still light, but the sun was setting. Storm sat up.
“You got the door open?” she asked softly.
Keiko nodded. “I’m holding it closed. I thought we’d better have a plan.”
Storm felt the lowered timbre of the engines. “We’ve slowed.”
Stella handed her a half-empty water bottle. “It’s the last one. We saved it for you.”
Storm took it gratefully and drank it in one go. She was thirstier than she’d thought. Drugs, heat, seasickness. This sucked. She went to the porthole. “We’re a lot closer to land.” She peered out the window on the other side. “Looks like a bay.”
She looked at Keiko. “Boats are required by law to carry life jackets. If we had to swim, could you do it with a jacket?”
Storm would find it an impediment, but she’d grown up around the water. She watched Keiko’s tentative nod.
They’d have to stay together. It would not be a fast or secretive getaway. Last resort, Storm thought. How many alternatives would they have?
“Let’s make a plan.”
The other two women nodded and gazed at her with expectation in their alert and hopeful eyes.
Shit, thought Storm, and took a deep breath. “There’s only one way out of here, so we’ve got to go together, as quietly as we can.” The other two nodded again.
She pointed at the fire extinguisher. “Keiko, you take that. If you discharge it, do it right in his face. Don’t hesitate to clobber someone with it. Hard.”
Keiko winced, but nodded again. They were starting to remind Storm of windshield hula dancers, the kind with their heads on springs. For a moment, she wished that her only responsibility was herself. Three people meant three times the challenge of staying organized, three times the chance of a fuckup. Three times the likelihood of capture, and not one of the women would leave anyone behind. Which could be good or bad.
“Stella, you take the knife blade. Keep it hidden, if you can.”
Stella had a set to her jaw and a glint in her eye, and Storm remembered Keiko cutting the electrical wire to Pauline’s house. She’d been blasted off her perch with a shock that could have killed her. Still, she’d scraped herself off the ground looking for a fight. This team was going to have to be good enough.
“Is there a galley?” Storm asked.
“No stove, but there’s a sink and a small refrigerator,” Stella said.
“How about a salon, or seating area?”
“It’s one space. There’s a helm there, too, under the canopy.”
“Is that where the captain will be?” Storm asked.
“Not necessarily. There’s a flying bridge. It’s a nice, calm day, so he’ll probably be up there. The view is better.”
“Is it covered?”
“It has a canvas cover that can be folded up, kind of like a convertible top.”
“And a ladder from the salon?”
“Yes, the ladder is about a four-foot climb.” Stella frowned. “It’ll be hard to sneak up on him.”
Storm thought a moment. “How many people surprised you in your apartment?”
“At least two,” Keiko said.
Stella agreed. “The person who threw the bag over my head was big and strong. I think he was hiding in the bathroom.”
“A man got me, too,” Keiko added. “Right after Stella.”
“Then there was someone waiting in the van,” Stella said.
“And someone was in the back with us,” Keiko said.
“You think there are three or four people?” Storm asked.
“I haven’t heard any voices other than Lara’s,” Stella said. “It seems like four people would make some noise.”
“Unless they were told to be quiet,” Keiko said. “Obake’s guys don’t talk much.”
“Was Lara in the back of the van with you?”
“I don’t know,” Stella said, and neither did Keiko. “They kept stuff between us.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Does Damon have a van?” Storm asked. “I’ve only seen him drive a pickup.”
“No, but a couple of the workers have vans,” Keiko said.
“We need the element of surprise,” Stella said.
“Once we’re out of here and through the salon, we need to split up,” Storm said. “If they capture one of us, at least two more are free.”
“If one of us gets captured, sit tight. We’ll come back to get you,” Keiko said.
“Good idea,” said Storm.
The three of them stood for a long moment. Keiko held the door closed.
“I’ll go first,” said Storm.
Chapter Forty
On her way out, Storm grabbed the canvas bag that had been used in her capture. Now that she could see it, she recognized the rough sack as the type that stored lines and other nautical equipment. It had Quest stenciled on the outside.
Stella and Keiko were close behind, and all three women tiptoed through the low door into what passed for a galley. The boat was configured in a typical fashion for a dive boat. Only the forward cabin and the toilets had privacy, and the women now stood under the bridge in a large seating area, which was half in open air, half under cover of the bridge. It was enough space for at least a dozen people to mill around, take off gear, relax on the cushioned banquettes, and mostly stay out of the way of the crew.
To the women’s great relief, the space was empty. All three of them had been poised to challenge whatever guard was posted, and no one was there. Someone was steering from the bridge directly overhead, but he couldn’t see them, as they stood under him. The reprieve was palpable; someone behind Storm released a long, pent-up breath.
Storm realized she’d anticipated confronting Damon. She wanted to tell him what a traitorous scumbag he’d turned out to be.
So where was he? And where were Obake’s people?
If Storm was going to commandeer a boat and take hostages, she’d have had someone posted in the stern, where he or she could watch both the cabin and the helm. Someone else would be fore, and she’d want another person moving around.
The women faced aft, toward a rock outcropping that defined the outer limit of the bay. Waves hit the lava rocks and flowed over their broad, imposing shoulders. Because the boat had recently turned, they were about a quarter mile from the most prominent boulders. The shore itself, part rocky and part sandy, was at least a half mile away.
The women eyed the long, empty banquettes uneasily. “I thought Lara would be out here,” Keiko whispered.
One of the bench cushions lay on the deck and another was knocked askew, which gave the impression either someone had been in a big hurry to find something in the storage compartment beneath the seat, or there’d been a scuffle.
“Maybe she’s inside the banquette,” Stella whispered. Her eyes darted from the dislodged cushion to Storm.
“We can’t go out there now, the captain will see us,” Keiko said.
Stella nodded. “The others must be forward.”
She and Keiko looked pale and scared, but Stella held the knife blade and Keiko carried the fire extinguisher. Both were alert and poised for action.
Storm pulled on a line that had been left on deck. Another sign of either carelessness or a struggle, she thought. A rope like this should be stowed under the banquette, or some place where it wouldn’t tangle and no one would trip over it. She wound it into a loose coil and slipped the loop over her shoulder.
The women stood for several minutes, waiting to see if someone would come to check on them. It would be better to ambush someone coming from the forward deck, as this person would be clambering along the narrow starboard or port decks, than to be the one climbing. Vigilant, no one spoke. No one approached, either.
The twin diesels throbbed beneath their feet, and the boat reached the other end of the bay, where the captain reversed its path. Keiko bent her knees and rode the surge caused by the ocean swells behind them. Storm had heard this called the following sea, and knew it could swamp a boat on a rough day. The boat rode it easily, like a cork. Stella put out a hand and braced herself against a small sink. Storm swallowed to get her stomach out of her throat. The vessel turned 180 degrees to head back across the large bay.
The women steadied themselves, and Storm held up a hand. “I’ll go up,” she whispered softly, and pointed toward the helm. “Once I’m up there, go in different directions.”
Stella looked alarmed at the implication that Storm might not be successful, but Keiko gave a grim nod.
Storm had no time to spare. The ladder sat starboard of center, which was, after the last turn, on the ocean side of the boat. If the captain was keeping his eye toward shore, his attention would be away from the ladder. She had to sneak up on him before he made another turn. And once her head rose to the level of the bridge, she had to be fast.
She climbed. The ladder was only five vertical steps, a little more than four feet.
The helmsman heard her. “You came up for the view?” he asked without turning around. He thought she was someone else, cocky bastard.
“Yep,” said Storm, and pulled the bag over his head in a smooth motion. At the same time, she leaped to throw her weight against him. Though she’d aimed for his shoulders, he was at least six feet tall, the chair was higher than she’d anticipated, and he outweighed her by more than fifty pounds. She only knocked him half-way.
Startled, he shot sideways, and his shorts slid on the shiny plastic of the high captain’s chair. Reflexively, he seized the nearest stationary object, which was the boat’s wheel. The Quest skewed in a sharp U and the deck tilted suddenly. A shriek of alarm came from below.
Storm hoped no one had fallen overboard, but she didn’t have time to stop and look, or even call out. She, too, reeled with surprise. Right before she’d pulled the bag over his head, Ken McClure had turned his head, shock and confusion on his handsome face. Her own expression must have mirrored his.
What was he doing at the wheel? He was probably Lara’s most important colleague at the dive shop, her second in command. She had never seen Ken and Damon in conversation, though she had to admit she hadn’t spent enough time in the shop to know how the men interacted. Perhaps they’d kept their relationship hidden from Lara, too.
He clung to the wheel with one hand and grappled with the bag over his head with the other. He also screamed bloody murder, or threatened it in a muffled rant, while he kicked out with one muscular, violent leg. He had wrapped the other leg around the chair pedestal with his foot hooked under the circular footrest.
At least he couldn’t see where to aim his kicks. Storm body-checked him again, higher and harder.
The slick, waterproof upholstery of the chair seat was a big help. So was the kicking leg, which thrashed to reestablish balance. Storm gave it a push to tip him further.
This final shove accomplished what Storm intended, and the man crashed to the floor with a scream. But when he went down, the foot in the circular footrest was trapped. His ankle snapped with a sound that nearly made Storm gag.
He screamed again, thrashed against the bag over his head. The leg twisted in its aluminum noose. It popped free, bent at an angle that sickened Storm. She could see the sharp edges of bone poking at the skin.
Pain must have overcome him, because he flopped once more and lay still. Storm was relieved, for herself and for him. She straightened him onto his side, bad leg on top.
He didn’t respond; the man was out cold. The leg looked awful, the jagged bones ready to pop through. As it was, he had to be bleeding internally. She tied his hands behind his back, but didn’t secure him to anything. To do that, she’d have to move him to one of the stanchions that held the canopy, and the thought of dragging that leg into another position made her skin crawl.
Storm glanced one last time at Ken’s motionless form, then noticed with a gasp that the
boat was only fifty feet or so from the rocky point that defined the bay. Boulders sharp enough to slice through an aluminum hull like diamonds cutting coal hulked below the surface of the water.
She leaped into the captain’s chair and jerked the wheel starboard. There was a rock only a few feet from the prow. Storm knew that water distorted distance, but she didn’t know how much. Nor did she have any idea of the Quest’s draw. Five feet? Ten? The black shape looked like she could stand on it and keep her head out of water.
Scuttling the boat might be a good escape strategy, but she couldn’t do it until she knew where Keiko and Stella were. They were looking for Lara, and if all three were trapped below, it would be a terrible plan. She had to keep the vessel safe until she knew that everyone was free.
From the flying bridge, Storm had a good view of the sea and the fore and aft decks. The foredeck was empty. So was what she could see of the salon, except she knew how easy it was to hide in the galley area.
Who had cried out when Ken grabbed the wheel? Storm thought it had been a woman’s voice, and her eyes swept the water. Where was she?
No people, but something big was under the boat—
Wait, she could see part of a person on the port deck. Behind the rise of the cabin, she could make out the bend of a leg; the rest of the person was hidden. Keiko or Stella? God, she hoped not. She stood up to get a better look, but she also had to watch where she was steering the boat.
Whoever it was hadn’t moved. It looked like a man’s leg, which pleased her. Maybe Keiko had bashed someone with that fire extinguisher.
She hoped the young woman had tied him up securely. Any of Obake’s people could overcome her the same way she’d overwhelmed the helmsman. The boat’s starboard side faced land now, but she’d have to turn again, which would make her more vulnerable.
Her best option would be to get the Quest in a safe position and leave the helm. The few times she’d helped friends with their boats, anchors were stowed in a forward hold. As she remembered, setting one was a noisy operation. She was wary of attempting it alone, especially when she didn’t know where the rest of the crew was. She would be in a bad position if the enemy caught her leaning out over the water with a heavy object in her hands.
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