Blind Run

by Patricia Lewin

  Now Ethan needed one more favor.

  Across the way, the office door opened and Rio walked out with a woman.

  “Damn.” Ethan needed Rio alone.

  Rio escorted the woman to a red Honda parked on the road. They stood talking while she fumbled with her keys, then unlocked the door and climbed behind the wheel.

  Ethan stood and tossed the drink cup into a nearby trash can, then started back toward the building. He kept his pace easy, studying the boats along the wharf. “Okay, Tony,” he quietly urged, “let the lady go.”

  They chatted a few more minutes, then finally the woman started the engine and Rio backed away. As he turned back toward his building, Ethan ducked behind a white Chevy, the last car of the half dozen in front of the charter office.

  Whistling softly, Rio headed for the row of cars, and Ethan figured it was his lucky day. If necessary he would have gotten to Rio inside, but it wasn’t his first choice. He waited until Rio had reached a silver-gray Jeep Cherokee and unlocked its door. Then Ethan stood, crossed to the vehicle, and slipped into the passenger seat just as Rio inserted the key into the ignition.

  “How you doing, Tony?”

  Startled, Rio went for the door handle.

  “Whoa.” Ethan grabbed the man’s arm and pressed the Glock to his side. “Take it easy.”

  Rio’s whole body sagged with relief. “Goddamn it, Decker, you scared the shit out of me. And what’s with the gun?”

  “Wave to your friend,” Ethan said as the woman drove past, “and start the car.”

  “Okay, okay, put that gun away.”

  Ethan sat back but kept the Glock visible. “Let’s get moving first.”

  Rio scowled, put the car in gear, and backed out of the parking space. As they pulled away from the building, his temper flared. “What the hell are you doing, Decker? Showing up at my place like this?”

  “Settle down, Tony. I’m not one of your flunkies.”

  “Well, what do you expect? If anyone sees me with you—”

  Ethan reached over and tapped the man on the arm with the Glock. “Just drive.”

  Rio clamped his mouth shut, for a full ten seconds, then said, “Where to?”

  “Get on the highway.”

  Neither of them spoke as they left the marina and headed into downtown Seattle. Ethan wanted some distance between Rio and his home turf before having this conversation, but heavy traffic kept them moving at a snail’s pace.

  “I thought you were dead,” Rio said as they stopped for a traffic light.

  “Your mistake.”

  “So what do you want?” Rio looked at him, then back at the road as the light turned green.

  “Not here.” Ethan nodded toward the sign pointing out the highway entrance.

  Rio steered into the turn lane, and they headed north.

  Ethan breathed a little easier as the city fell behind them. The last thing he needed was an encounter with one of Rio’s goons. “I need your help, Tony.”

  Rio threw him a quick glance.

  “If you cooperate,” Ethan continued, “I’ll consider your debt paid in full. You won’t see me again.”

  “Yeah, make me a promise I believe.”

  “Believe this one.” Ethan smiled as if he wasn’t about to cut the man’s legs out from under him. “I need the Sea Devil.”

  “What?” Rio turned to him, the car swerving, then straightening as he refocused on the road. “No fucking—”

  “Take it easy, Rio.” Ethan spoke slowly. “This isn’t a negotiation.” Rio’s boat was fully loaded with top-of-the line navigational equipment and lots of storage compartments. Hidden storage compartments. The kind a smuggler used to run guns or drugs, and just what Ethan needed to take down Cox. “And you will give her to me.”

  “Just like that? A two-hundred-thousand-dollar boat, and you expect me to turn her over to you?” He slammed open fists against the steering wheel. “You’re crazy.”

  “Crazy enough to get what I want.” Ethan pressed the Glock to Rio’s side. “Or make a couple of phone calls, which would shut you down in a matter of hours. My guess, you wouldn’t even get out of the city, much less the country. As for the Sea Devil? Well, the cops would confiscate her and lock—”

  “Okay, okay. I get it.” Rio looked again at the gun. “Put that fucking thing away, will you?”

  Ethan slipped the weapon under his jacket. He wanted Rio cooperative, not terrified. For several minutes Rio didn’t say anything, and Ethan let him work through his anger. He almost felt sorry for the man, until he remembered Avery Cox holding a gun on Sydney.

  “So, will I get her back?” Rio finally asked.

  “If everything goes as planned, you can pick her up tomorrow night.” Otherwise, Ethan would be dead and the Sea Devil destroyed or in Cox’s hands.

  “And if things don’t go as planned, what am I supposed to do?” Some of Rio’s earlier bravado had returned. “That boat’s my livelihood.”

  “Your illegal livelihood. Besides, I bet the damn thing’s insured.”

  Rio’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Insurance doesn’t cover all the special upgrades I’ve put into her.”

  “Get over it, Rio,” Ethan said. “I’ve had a really bad week, and I need that boat tonight. Do as I say and you’ll get it back in one piece.”

  Rio’s jaw tightened. “Okay, what do you want?”

  “I need a supply of C4 and a high-powered rifle.”

  “Jesus, Decker, you don’t want much.”

  “Can you get it for me or not?”

  Rio pressed his lips into a tight line, then nodded, obviously resigned to filling Ethan’s needs. “The rifle’s not a problem, but the explosives are tough. And expensive.”

  “Just get it and store it on the Sea Devil. Then prepare one of your charter boats for an overnight trip. You’ll be making a pickup tomorrow night in Puget Sound.”

  “What the hell are you up to, Decker?”

  Ethan didn’t respond, Rio knew better than to ask too many questions.

  “Never mind, forget I asked.” He raised a hand in surrender. “Is that it?”

  “You can bring one man with you, no more. So be sure it’s someone who can pilot a boat.”

  “So what am I picking up?”

  “Just passengers, including me. Then I’ll tell you where to find the Sea Devil.”

  “Where exactly are we going?”

  “I’ll tell you tonight, when you deliver the Sea Devil.”

  “If I do this, then we’re even, right?”

  Ethan sat back and breathed a little easier. “Yeah, you do this, and we’re even.”

  TONY RIO was as good as his word.

  He and his boat showed up a few minutes before midnight at the designated rendezvous point: a deserted pier on the Duwamish River south of Seattle. Ethan waited for him in the shadows of a nearby abandoned warehouse, with Danny a couple of feet away, safely out of sight.

  Ethan would have preferred leaving the boy behind in the motel until he’d checked out the Sea Devil, but he couldn’t risk it. As soon as he had control of the craft, he needed to get out of Seattle. Just in case Rio changed his mind. So he made Danny promise to stay hidden inside the building and hoped the boy would follow orders for once.

  Rio took his time showing off his boat, acting like a proud papa. He explained the navigational systems and controls, then took Ethan belowdecks to display the hidden storage hold which was the boat’s special feature. Inside was stowed a Remington 700 and enough C4 to take out half the damn island.

  Ethan had to admire the man’s ability to deliver on such short notice, but the delay in getting under way was making him nervous. He trusted Rio to a point, as long as Rio thought Ethan’s team might appear at any moment or a shooter had a bead on his forehead. Otherwise, Ethan wouldn’t make it out of the area alive. Or if he did, it wouldn’t be with the Sea Devil. So he behaved like a man with five guns at his back. The act was easy to pull off. He’d play
ed the part so long that even now, it was as much a part of him as the Glock beneath his jacket.

  Finally Rio finished his tour.

  “And the arrangements for the pickup?” Ethan asked.

  “I have one of my boats and her captain standing by. We can leave as soon as we know where we’re going.”

  Ethan dropped a large padded envelope on the table. “This is half what I’ll pay you for the weapon and explosives, plus the instructions for tomorrow night. You carry out your end of things, and you’ll get the other half and the Sea Devil.” It was the bulk of Ethan’s stash, but if his plan succeeded it would be worth every penny. And if he failed? Well, he’d be dead. “If you don’t show, I’d make sure all your insurance premiums are paid up, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I get it.” Rio picked up the envelope without looking inside. “We’ll be there.”

  “Make sure you are.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  AFTER GATHERING DANNY and his laptop, Ethan turned the Sea Devil north. They headed toward Anacortes, a town on Fidalgo Island and the jump-off point to the San Juan Islands. Normally the trip took six hours, but Ethan planned for at least eight. He was traveling unfamiliar waters in the dark and knew better than to push it.

  As Ethan maneuvered away from the docks of the Duwamish River and toward Elliott Bay, Danny seemed unusually quiet. Ethan had expected a stream of questions about Rio, the boat, or their agenda in Anacortes. Normally the boy never shut up, and Ethan had become accustomed to the constant chatter. The unexpected silence worried him.

  “Go below and get some rest,” he said. “It’s going to be a long night.”

  “I want to stay here.” Danny stared out at the dark water, his expression grim.

  “It’ll be okay,” Ethan said, taking a stab at what was bothering the boy. “We’ll get Callie back.”

  For the first time since boarding the Sea Devil, Danny looked Ethan full in the eye. “I know you’ll try.”

  Ethan curbed his automatic impulse to offer reassurance. Danny had a firm grip on reality and knew they were heading straight into the devil’s lair, with little more than their wits and nerve to pull them through. It made no sense to try to convince him otherwise.

  So Ethan left him alone.

  They made the rest of the trip in silence—Danny nodding off occasionally but never giving into sleep—and arrived in Anacortes midmorning. The sky had turned gray and overcast, reflecting both their moods. Ethan hoped the weather wouldn’t deteriorate further as the day aged. A storm would complicate and jeopardize his plans.

  He checked them into a beachside motel, and after securing the room’s doors and windows, collapsed on the bed. “I need a couple of hours’ sleep before making the final arrangements,” he said. “You might try to get some, too.”

  Closing his eyes, he waited for the squeak of the other mattress. Danny lay down, but for some time tossed and turned, struggling with his demons. Ethan wished Sydney were here, she’d know how to ease Danny’s mind, while Ethan merely waited for the boy’s exhaustion to win out.

  Finally the room quieted, and Ethan relaxed.

  He’d never needed much sleep, not more than four or five hours at a stretch, but he wouldn’t undertake a mission tired. Exhausted men made mistakes, and he’d need to be sharp this afternoon when he secured the final component of his plan.

  Marco Ramirez.

  ETHAN WAS COUNTING ON Ramirez still being in Anacortes.

  The assassin hadn’t survived this long by being careless or stupid. “The island is heavily guarded,” he’d told Ethan in Champaign. “Or I would already have my answers.”

  “Are you asking for my help?”

  “Penetrating such a place is your specialty.”

  “Forget it, Ramirez. You and I are more likely to kill each other.”

  “Perhaps.” Ramirez had shrugged. “But if you change your mind, I’ll be around. Just don’t wait too long, amigo. I am a patient man, but I grow tired of this game.”

  Now, less than a week later, the world had tipped upside down and Ethan planned to enlist Ramirez’s help to raid Haven Island. All it had taken was Cox holding a gun on Sydney, and Ethan’s hate for Ramirez had become secondary. Ethan would go in alone if necessary, but Ramirez would greatly increase the odds of success. If Ethan could find him, and he hadn’t changed his mind.

  Anacortes was a picturesque waterfront town, but even postcard towns had an underside. Ethan started with the bars closest to the water, where Ramirez would leave a trail if he wanted Ethan to find him.

  An hour later he walked into Joe’s Place, a clone of the other three bars Ethan had checked out first. It was dark, with the smell of stale beer and cigarettes permeating the room. A couple of men, tattoos running up both arms, circled the single pool table. An old woman, alone in a corner booth, nursed a drink. And a couple of regulars watched a basketball game on television.

  Ethan took the stool farthest from the door and ordered a beer. When the bartender brought it, Ethan pulled a roll of bills from his jacket pocket. “You Joe?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  Peeling off a hundred, Ethan laid it on the bar. “I’m looking for a friend.”

  The man snorted. “Aren’t we all?”

  “A good friend.” Ethan withdrew a second hundred and dropped it on top of the first. “Latino, a little under six feet, big tipper.”

  Joe eyed the bills. “We get lots of Mexicans in here.”

  “This one’s different.” Ethan fiddled with the roll in his hand, flicking the corner of another hundred. “He keeps to himself.” He saw the recognition in the bartender’s eyes, and the sudden fear. “Doesn’t drink much, just sits and watches.”

  Joe hesitated, then dragged his gaze from the money. “Sorry, don’t know him, and I can’t break no hundred. If you don’t got nothin’ smaller, the beer’s on the house.” Turning, he walked away.

  Ethan sipped his beer, smiling to himself.

  Old Joe was definitely uneasy, glancing back as he refilled drinks at the other end of the bar. So, Ramirez had not only been here but came in regularly enough to make the natives nervous. Ethan had found the assassin’s calling card.

  After dropping a couple of singles on the bar, Ethan headed for the door. “Thanks, Joe.”

  The man nodded, the relief on his face almost humorous. And premature. Whether he knew it or not, he would help his newest customer. It would just take some persuading. Too bad. Ethan would have preferred parting with the money.

  Outside, he surveyed the neighborhood. Fortunately, it was the kind of area where everyone minded their own business. He headed down the street, then cut over a block and worked his way to the back of Joe’s Place.

  Like a lot of restaurants and bars, the rear entrance had no outside handle. It opened from the inside with a push bar. Not the easiest barrier to get through without the proper tools.

  Ethan looked for an alternative entry point and found an open window into the men’s room. He hoisted himself through and dropped to the dingy floor. The place was filthy. No wonder Joe wasn’t worried about anyone getting in this way.

  Ethan moved to the door and cracked it just enough to see the hallway beyond. The corridor was long and narrow, with the outside door at one end and the entrance to the bar at the other. Along one side was the storeroom, and opposite it were both rest rooms and a pay phone. Withdrawing his knife, he slipped out and sank into the shadows of the far corner.

  Now all he had to do was wait. Unless he missed his guess, Joe would be heading this way real soon.

  It was one of Ramirez’s favorite ploys. He’d stake out a likely location and give the locals a number, asking them to call if anything interesting happened. He didn’t bribe or even threaten them, but his presence was enough to scare them into cooperating, giving him eyes and ears in a variety of places.

  Ethan figured Joe’s was no different.

  It had been about fifteen minutes since Ethan had left by the fron
t door. Anytime now he expected the bartender to head for the john. He’d think he was fooling everyone by waiting and using the pay phone instead of the one behind the bar.

  Sure enough, Ethan didn’t have long to wait before Joe showed, heading straight for the phone without noticing Ethan in the far corner. Joe picked up the receiver, dropped a quarter into the coin slot, and punched in a couple of numbers. Three strides, and Ethan reached over the bartender’s shoulder and pushed the disconnect button.

  “Hey—” Joe half turned.

  Ethan slammed him face first against the wall, pressing the unopened knife against his spine. “Hello, Joe. Remember me?”

  One of the pool players stepped into the doorway, cue in hand. “What’s going on here?”

  “Just a friendly chat.” Ethan shifted to reveal the Glock under his arm. “So why don’t you let us get back to it?”

  Raising his hands, the pool player backed up. “Hey man, I ain’t got no argument with you.”

  “Let’s keep it that way,” Ethan said.

  “Sure thing.” The man disappeared, and a couple of seconds later the slam of the front door reached the dim hallway.

  “Looks like your customers have decided to give us some privacy,” Ethan said.

  “He’ll call the cops.”

  “He didn’t look much like the good-citizen type to me.”

  A sheen of sweat broke out on Joe’s forehead. “What do you want?”

  “Like I said, I’m looking for a friend of mine.”

  “I told you I don’t—”

  Ethan snapped open the blade and lifted it to Joe’s cheek. “Want to try that again?”

  “He’ll kill me if I tell you.”

  “Looks like you’re in a tough spot.”

  Joe licked his lips. “I don’t know nothing about him. He’s been in every night for the last week. He has a beer or two, but doesn’t drink them, then leaves. That’s all I know.”