by Lyn Stone
Joe forced himself to be calm. Going berserk wouldn’t help Martine. “But you did, hon. You got free. Now tell me, what did he say to you? Did he say anything?”
Again she nodded and swallowed hard. “He…he said he knew you would be looking for him and if you didn’t quit, he would kill Martine.” She began crying, shaking uncontrollably.
Joe had no choice but to wait until she got over it a little, then offered her the juice Holly had brought over. He wiped her eyes with a napkin.
“Here, drink this. You’ll feel better,” he said. Nothing, absolutely nothing could make him feel better at this point other than getting his hands around Humberto’s throat. “Did he say anything else?”
She blinked hard and drew in a shuddery breath. “Bombs,” she whispered, horror in her voice. “He said he’d planted bombs. And…and he said to be sure your phone stays turned on. He’ll call.” Her eyes, swimming with tears, met his. “One of those… bombs is where Linda and the baby are. Oh God, Joe, what are we gonna do?”
She collapsed again, weeping hard. Joe slammed his fist on the table and cursed. Holly quickly put her hand over his, warning him to be quiet.
She was right. If he woke up his parents, he’d have three people hysterical. Four, if he let go, too. He had to remain in control if he was to get Martine, his sister and her baby out of this.
God only knew what Humberto was up to with bombs. Could he possibly have planned all this so far ahead? Then Joe reminded himself that Humberto had to have been doing something during the time Joe was in McLean with Sextant and Martine was back in Atlanta.
He had somehow found out about Joe’s family, closely guarded information when you did undercover work. Also he had known exactly which buttons to push to get Joe to Florida, even if they hadn’t already been headed there.
He wished to hell he hadn’t brought Martine with him. That had not been planned, but Humberto would have found a way to get to her sooner or later. Joe just couldn’t stand to think of Martine at that devil’s mercy, hurt and tied up.
God, he hoped she wasn’t in some confined space on top of all that. Fear tightened his chest muscles to the point of pain. He had to do something.
“Sit back down, Joe,” Holly ordered. “We’ve got the phone number of the boat. Call the jerk and let him know we’ll blow his ass out of the water if he detonates any bombs ashore.”
“He’ll kill them!” Delores cried, wringing her hands. “He’ll kill them all!”
Holly shook her head and patted Delores’s back. “No, he won’t. They’re his ace in the hole. Without them, how’s he gonna get to Joe?”
“Linda and Connie aren’t with him,” Delores rasped. “He said one of the bombs was planted with Linda and the baby, and he’d make it go off if he saw anybody searching for the boat.”
“All right, all right, settle down. We’ll find a way,” he said, speaking as much to himself as to Delores.
Holly picked up the kitchen phone. “You call the ATF, Joe. I’m calling the AIC at the Panama City FBI. Let’s get everybody running checks on who’s been buying boom stuff in the area. If Humberto got the materials locally, maybe we can determine how much fire power he’s working with. I’m also calling in EOD teams with sniffers to check out high-traffic areas. They can bring in help and arrange a quiet sweep of the entire town.”
His call accomplished, Joe located the number for the Paper Moon. Holly motioned for him to wait about phoning the boat until she finished the one she was making. Joe listened.
She was talking with Mercier. “Jack, we’re officially involved now. This has escalated and there’s no question that this guy’s a terrorist in every sense of the word.” She replaced the receiver on the hook and nodded once. “It’s a mission.”
Joe welcomed the help with the bomb situation. If everyone got on it, they would probably find Linda and the baby in time because there weren’t that many places around Port St. Joe to hide them. But he knew in his heart that he would be going to that boat alone. It was the only way, and even at that, he had a very slim chance of saving Martine.
If Humberto had even taken her to the boat. Hell, they could be anywhere, land or sea.
Joe lifted his cell phone and dialed the number for the Paper Moon. The ringing went on forever, but no one answered.
Chapter 13
Martine opened her eyes, immediately aware on waking that she was on a boat. The cabin undulated, causing her stomach to lurch and her head to pound. A spot above her right temple throbbed painfully. He had hit her with the gun. A coating of dried blood pulled the skin of her face taut.
The head trauma hadn’t induced any merciful bout of amnesia for her, Martine thought, catching back a groan. She remembered every detail until the split second when she lost consciousness.
Desperately, she scanned the enclosure, which consisted of wall-to-wall bed. This was the pocket cabin, she guessed, a small tuckaway space for overflow guests.
She was alone. For a few seconds, she struggled with the binding on her wrists, telling herself it was only a matter of minutes before she could work free. Don’t panic, she warned herself. Stay calm.
Had Humberto killed Linda and her baby? And where was Delores? Were they onboard in another cabin?
Oh God, poor Joe. Both of his sisters and his niece were missing. And her, too. She knew he would include her in his worrying because he obviously cared. He was a caring man. Why hadn’t she told him how she felt about him before it was too late?
She could hear the rhythmic slap of waves against the sides of the craft. The odor of mildew and sweat permeated the small space that seemed to close in and grow more confining by the second.
She took shallow breaths, battling the encroaching terror of having her hands bound behind her, of not being able to work free, of the sloped walls shrinking inward.
A screaming plea for release rose in her throat, but she choked it back, knowing the futility of crying out. It would only alert Humberto that she was awake. Seeing him, watching him gloat or perhaps do worse, was the last thing she needed right now.
Escape seemed impossible, but she couldn’t simply give up. What had she trained for these last four years? Deliberately, she forced anger to replace the fear.
In desperation she recalled her shame at wimping out in the cave, depending solely on Joe to haul her out of that tunnel in a faint. Damned if she’d let herself get that worked up again. Think! Plan!
The first order of business was to get rid of the rope.
Her hands were swollen, but not to the point where she had lost feeling. Don’t struggle. Relax. She twisted her fingers, carefully probing for the knot in the narrow nylon cord.
A soft curse escaped, but at least she was breathing more normally. Her second-worst enemy, panic, was more or less under control, at least for the moment.
Damned if she would let it end this way. Humberto had brought her here to lure Joe to the boat where he would kill them both. Knowing Humberto, they would not suffer an easy death. Then he would dump their bodies in the Gulf and be docking in Mexico, the Islands or somewhere before they were found. If they ever were.
She remembered Joe’s admission, his greatest fear. Dying alone and no one knowing. Well, at least he wouldn’t be alone. She gritted her teeth and let fury flow through her.
She had no clue how long she had been unconscious. Maybe she had remained asleep for some time even after recovering from the blow to her head. The two tiny windows were covered but it wasn’t completely dark. If that was daylight and not artificial light seeping through, she had to have been here at least five or six hours.
Joe might already be on his way and she had to be in a position to help him when he got here. She had absolutely no doubt that Humberto would have called to give him the location of the boat. And she knew for certain Joe would come.
“You’re too hyper, Joe,” Holly warned. “At this rate, you’ll collapse before we get a plan in place.”
She put her arm around
his mother’s shoulders and asked her if she had anything else in her medicine cabinet that would calm Joe down. Mama had already given Delores something and put her to bed. His father and Terry, Delores’s husband, had run down to the marina again to see what else they could find out.
His mother was no sooner out of the room than the phone rang. Holly had made use of her contacts with the Bureau and theirs with the phone company. All calls dialed to the cell phone were to be rerouted to a regular land line so they could be taped for analysis and traced if necessary. All the equipment was in place.
Joe was amazed at how much she had accomplished by seven o’clock in the morning and was damned glad to have her help. He sucked in a deep breath and prayed for calm as he waited for the third ring.
“It’s on speaker,” Holly said. “Go ahead, Joe.”
He punched the button. “Corda here,” he snapped.
“Ah, you sound less than cool, amigo. Where is that charm you oozed when you secured my trust? Where is your confidence?”
“Cut the bull and get down to business,” Joe ordered.
“Very well, we will dispense with amenities. My plans have changed. I have decided to let your sister, niece and Martine live if you will do precisely as I tell you.”
“And the captain,” Joe bargained. “Include him.”
Humberto paused. “Ah, too late for the old fellow. You, of course, will have to die, too. I think you will not mind it so much. You seemed willing enough when propped against that tree and I had you in my sights. Or was that an act as well?”
“Spit it out, Humberto. Tell me what you want?”
“Two million will suffice. You owe me considerably more than that, but it is all I can reasonably expect you to gather by seven o’clock this evening.”
Ransom? The demand surprised Joe, but he supposed it shouldn’t. Greed was a huge part of Humberto’s makeup.
Joe didn’t think for a second Humberto would release Martine for any amount, but he probably would let Linda and the baby go. “Where the hell would I get two million? I can get you half that, maybe, if you give me another day.”
“No room for negotiation, Corda. Get the money by seven tonight or their deaths will be on your head.” His voice grew hard with the last demand. “You know I will keep my promise. Unlike some men I could mention, my word is my honor.”
Honor? Joe wanted to shout. What man’s honor allowed him to kidnap defenseless women and a baby? But he kept his temper in check. Years of experience had taught him much about dealing with scum like Humberto.
“How do you want it handled? Cash or transferral to an account?” Joe amazed himself with his businesslike tone. The almost overpowering urge to threaten Humberto nearly broke free, but Joe held it back. Loosing his cool wouldn’t help. “Where and how do we make the exchange?”
“Cash, and you will bring it to me. I will call again at seven o’clock with instructions.” His chuckle crawled through the receiver. “I know your mind must be working alive with plans to find me before that time. I warn you, do not try. And do not involve anyone else in this, Corda. I will be able to see anyone approaching and I have prepared for that.”
Joe glanced at Holly as he spoke to Humberto. “I got the message. This stays between us.”
Humberto made a small sound of what sounded like approval. “I hope you are not lying again, Corda. If you are and I see any sign of interference, I shall have to light up your precious Port Saint Joseph sky. There are explosive devices that will detonate at my command.”
“I told you I’ll be alone,” Joe insisted.
Humberto continued as if Joe hadn’t spoken. “One of these is planted with your sister and her child. If the deal goes well and no one follows me after our business is complete, the authorities will be notified of the locations I have wired. If not…” He paused. “Well, in either case, you have my word.”
The connection broke. Joe glared at the phone and slammed his palm with his fist. “God, I need to kill that man!”
Holly placed a hand on his shoulder. “Can you raise that much money?”
Joe shrugged away, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Hell no. But I’ll think of something.” He’d rob a bank if that’s what it took. “I might need to show the cash to get Humberto to let me on the boat.”
“I’ll arrange it,” she said. “We’ve used confiscated counterfeit sometimes in instances like this. It’s not like he’s going to get anywhere to spend it.”
“You’d better put a tracker in with it, just in case he gets away. First, see how the bomb squad’s doing finding those explosives,” Joe told her. “And get the SEAL gear delivered now instead of tonight. I want their smallest Zodiac.”
Holly nodded. “Will’s picking up the weapons. Mac-10’s with a couple of mags extra. A 9mm and a .22 apiece for backup. Enough?”
“Where is he now?”
“Should arrive in a couple of hours with the goodies.”
Joe nodded approval. “I’ll need a blade, too. I want to gut that sonofabitch. And I want a submersible, tanks and a wet suit in case I get a chance to go in before the deadline.”
“You’re not going in alone, Joe. Take Eric. He’s had SEAL training and is the best at hand-to-hand you’ll find anywhere.”
His hackles rose. “I was a Ranger for three years and did my share of waterwork. I can handle it.”
Holly threw up her hands. “Joe! What are we all about here, huh? Chuck the rivalry, will you?”
“It’s not that,” Joe insisted. Well, it wasn’t much about that. But she was right. He had to think of the mission first. Logically. “Fine then. If it turns out I have to wait and go on schedule, Vinland can come. Okay? But I’m going in underwater if I can get a fix on him before rendezvous hour, and I’m going by myself. Let’s get everything together so I can check out the gear.”
“I’m on it,” she assured him. “Meanwhile, play with that tape and see if you get any background noises. I thought I heard a car horn. He might not be on the boat right now.”
Joe rewound the tape. “While you’re at it see if Jack’s got the pictures and coordinates on the forty-two-footers anchored off shore yet. If we can find the boat, I’ll take the sub and go at sundown when there’s glare on the surface.”
He pictured himself cutting an underwater wake, zooming toward that boat like a relentless shark with teeth bared, psyched up to tear that bastard apart.
His entire body hummed. Despite the current burst of energy, Joe knew he needed sleep, hadn’t had any for over twenty-four hours. But he couldn’t. Didn’t dare. He had too much to do and too little time to do it.
An hour later, waiting impatiently by the computer for the satellite pictures, Joe looked up and saw Eric Vinland propped in the doorway of the downstairs bedroom his father had converted to a home office.
This was the first he’d seen of him since leaving McLean. The man moved like a ghost. Joe hadn’t heard a sound when he arrived. “What’s up?”
Vinland smiled. “We found your sister,” he announced.
Joe jumped up so fast he almost upset the desk. “Is she all right? And the baby?”
“Yeah, both fine. They were alone, locked in the basement of an abandoned farmhouse about fifteen miles north of here. Will’s taken them to a motel down the coast for safety’s sake in case Humberto’s ashore somewhere. Holly’s getting your folks to your sister’s new location so they can go and be with her and the kid.”
“Thank God.” As relieved as Joe was about the rescue, he couldn’t help cursing the fact that Martine was still out there, still at Humberto’s mercy. Not that the bastard had any mercy. “Was there a bomb?” Joe asked.
“Yeah, we found one, just like he said. He’d turned on the gas, too. All he’d have had to do to set that off was make a phone call. Spark from the ringer. Then the gas explosion would have set off the bomb. Too far inland for him to use a remote trigger. Guy knows his stuff.”
Joe sank back into the chair, h
is hand to his head, thanking God for the intervention. His sister and the baby were safe. “Thanks,” he whispered.
“Don’t mention it,” Vinland said. “All in a day’s work.”
“How’d you find out where he was holding them?” Joe asked.
Eric shrugged. “Oh, I zoned in. Got a feeling.”
Joe hesitated. “How? Exactly?”
“Will got me one of your sister’s shirts. Sometimes if I touch things belonging to a person, I’ll get…notions about what they’re feeling, sometimes what they’re seeing. You know, just their perceptions of immediate surroundings. Worked pretty good this time, so I described the place to a local real estate agent. She identified it right away. We lucked out. I guess there aren’t too many houses this close to the coast that have full basements.”
“Water table’s too high,” Joe said, nodding. “Thanks, man. Really.” He knew any gratitude he offered would never be enough. Obviously, Vinland had a much better handle on his so-called gift than Joe had ever had on his.
“Could…do you think you could do it again with something of Martine’s? Just to make sure she’s on a boat?” And alive. But he didn’t add that. He wouldn’t even let himself consider the alternative.
“I can try.”
Joe hurried to the weekender Martine had brought with her and snapped it open. He handed Eric the item on top, a red bikini bottom, then snatched it back. The last thing he wanted was to see another guy fondling that. Instead he held up a white sleeveless pullover.
Vinland examined it as if looking for spots. Then Joe noticed he had indeed zoned out, as he’d described. Only his hands moved, gripping the supple fabric, moving the pads of his fingers over it, raising it to his face to breathe in Martine’s essence.
Joe watched, both fascinated and apprehensive. In a few seconds, Vinland dropped the blouse back into the suitcase as if it burned his hands. “She’s there.” His voice sounded shaky.
“Is she all right?” Joe demanded.
He nodded. “She seemed kind of…I don’t know, scattered? Her thoughts, I mean. Scared. Nothing much to see. She’s in the dark or her eyes are covered. Maybe she just had them closed. But there were ocean smells, waves sloshing. Definitely on a boat.” He hesitated, not meeting Joe’s gaze.