“I sent it.” Ramirez admitted. “It was my insurance policy to keep you from coming after me.”
“Bullshit.”
Ramirez shrugged and looked away.
“Why didn’t you contact me?” Ethan asked. “If you didn’t kill Nicky, why not just tell me?”
The assassin turned, and even in the dim light, Ethan could see his anger. “Would you have believed me?”
No, Ethan wouldn’t have believed him. There was too much history between them, too much blood. Ethan had led a team after the man and ended up killing a child instead. In return, Ramirez had assassinated Ethan’s team, one by one. Nicky was the last to die, a more fitting revenge than Ethan’s own death.
An eye for an eye. One child’s life for another.
Ramirez was right. If he’d made contact three years ago and claimed innocence, Ethan would have killed the assassin with his bare hands. Gladly.
Ethan turned back to navigating the boat, a fresh wave of rage rising within him. All these years he’d blamed Ramirez for his son’s death, when it had been the Agency’s doing, Cox’s warped strategy to maneuver Ethan into killing Ramirez. And it had almost worked.
Ethan jammed the throttle forward.
CHAPTER THIRTY
SUDDENLY, THE BOAT LURCHED and picked up speed, lifting the bow from the water. Hiding in a cramped storage hold, Danny and a stack of life preservers went sliding, hitting the side of the compartment with a thunk. Although he knew Ethan couldn’t have heard him over the whine of the engines, Danny remained perfectly still for several minutes. When no sound of footsteps came from the hatchway, he breathed a little easier and shoved the spongy preservers off him.
After Ethan had left the motel room, Danny had waited five minutes before following. Then he’d raced through the wet streets, taking a shortcut to the marina across yards and over fences. But his fear of arriving too late had been for nothing. He’d had plenty of time before Ethan showed up, and he should have used it to find a bigger place to stow away.
For about the tenth time since climbing into the dark, musty space at the front of the cabin, he tried to straighten his legs and failed. Chances were he could climb out without being seen. Navigating the channels in the Sound would keep Ethan busy, and he wasn’t likely to return to the cabin anytime soon. But Danny didn’t want to risk it.
He had to time this just right.
If he came out of hiding too soon, Ethan would turn around and head back to Anacortes. On the other hand, if Danny waited until they reached the island, it would be too late. He’d heard Ethan’s plans and knew things would get confusing on the island. Ethan needed his help, so the best time to show himself was when they stopped to let Ramirez into the smuggler’s hold—which was about the neatest thing Danny had ever heard.
Meanwhile, he made himself as comfortable as possible, using one life preserver as a pillow and the others for warmth. Despite the cramped quarters and adrenaline pumping through him, he must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, the boat slowed and came to a stop. A few minutes later, he heard the approaching footsteps as the two men returned to the cabin.
It was now or never.
Taking a deep breath, Danny lifted the lid of his hiding place and stood. Startled, both men spun around, Ethan leading with a gun.
“Wait.” Danny raised his hands defensively. “It’s me.”
Ethan lowered his weapon, his fierce expression shifting to anger. “What the hell are you doing here? I told you to stay put.”
Danny glanced from Ethan to the dark man beside him, then back. “Callie’s my sister.”
“Damn it.” Ethan turned away, dragged a hand through his hair, then came back at Danny. “What the hell did you think you were doing? This isn’t a game we’re playing here, Danny. People are going to get hurt, and I don’t want you to be one of them.”
“I . . .” Words failed him, Ethan’s anger smarting more than he’d expected. “I wanted to help.”
For a moment no one spoke, and Danny fought the sudden sting behind his eyes. Ethan couldn’t take him back, could he? It was too late.
Ramirez broke the tense silence. “Your plan will work better with the boy, Decker. You turn him over as a sign of good faith.”
“And get him killed in the process?” Ethan turned his anger on the other man. “We’re bringing a war to that island.”
“And to the other children, no?” Ramirez motioned toward Danny. “The boy has a right to be here, they are his family.”
The silence descended again, and Danny watched Ethan struggle with his choices.
“So are you going to take me back?” he asked, afraid of the answer.
Ethan looked at him. “You know I can’t.”
ETHAN EASED THE THROTTLE forward. To his right, Danny sat in the copilot’s chair, his spine stiff.
Ethan tamped down his guilt.
He’d had no choice but to bring the boy. If they turned back, Ethan would have to cancel the mission for the night. That would mean another day in Anacortes, which they couldn’t afford. With each passing hour, the risk of someone connected to the Haven discovering their presence grew exponentially. He had to catch Cox by surprise, and that meant hitting that island tonight.
Ethan glanced at Danny.
Besides, the boy was determined to help free his sister, and who was Ethan to fault him? As much as he hated to admit it, Danny had earned the right to be here. That didn’t mean Ethan had to like it.
“What’s in the backpack?” Ethan asked.
“Nothing much.” Danny seemed surprised by the question. “The usual stuff, clothes, my Game Boy.”
“Not the laptop?”
“I left it in the motel room.”
“Good, we don’t want them knowing we’ve been inside their computers. Now I want you to take this.” Ethan pulled out his knife. “Just in case.”
Danny’s eyes brightened. “But won’t you need it?”
“They’ll search me for sure, but they might not look at you as closely. Get out the first-aid kit from under the console, and I’ll tape the knife to your rib cage. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Danny found the white tape, then pulled up his shirt. Ethan used two long strips to secure the knife. “This is only a precaution. Use it only if we get separated and it’s absolutely necessary.” Ethan echoed his brother’s words, spoken half a lifetime ago. “Don’t tell anyone you have it.”
Danny nodded.
“This is important, Danny. If the Keepers discover you have this, it’s gone.”
“I understand.”
“Once we dock, follow my lead and do exactly what I tell you.” They were drawing close, the protected cove of the southern shore emerging from the dark mass of the island. Ethan slowed the boat. “And don’t be surprised by anything I say or do. Remember we’re here—”
The glare of a spotlight cut off his words, and a disembodied voice rumbled through a bullhorn. “Bayliner motor yacht, this is a private island and you’re in private waters. Turn about.”
Ethan flipped his own microphone switch, sending his voice back across the water. “Haven Island, this is Ethan Decker. I’m expected.”
The voice went silent for several minutes, but the light continued to track them as they moved toward the landing. Ethan could almost feel the hairs of a high-powered rifle scope following them as well.
Finally, the voice returned. “Put in.”
Ethan maneuvered the boat toward its berth where Morrow waited with four armed men. A little closer, and Ethan could see they were obviously mercenaries, hard-looking and mean, men without conscience or allegiances. Ethan hadn’t liked the idea of going up against Agency officers, righteous men following orders. Mercenaries would make what he and Ramirez intended easier.
He tossed out his lines, and Morrow directed two of his hired thugs to catch and tie them off.
Once the boat was secure, Morrow stepped forward. “You’re early.”
“Yeah, well, I aim
to please.”
Morrow scanned the deck. “Did you forget something?”
Ethan reached inside the hatchway, where he’d told Danny to wait, and grabbed him by his jacket collar. “I brought the kid.”
“Hey—,” Danny started as Ethan pulled him out into the open.
“Shut up, boy. No one wants to hear it.” Ethan shoved Danny forward. “So, Morrow, why don’t you run along and tell your boss I’m here?”
Morrow scowled, obviously unhappy with the reminder that he wasn’t calling the shots. Stepping back brusquely, he motioned with his gun. “Off the boat.”
Ethan gave Danny another shove, then followed him up onto the dock. With a gesture toward the large building set back from the shoreline, he said, “You first, gentlemen.”
“Search him,” Morrow said.
Ethan held out his arms, while one of Morrow’s lackeys patted him down, relieving him of the Glock and Anna’s .38. “Is this necessary?”
Morrow nodded toward Danny. “Check the kid’s backpack.”
Ethan tsked as the man rummaged through Danny’s pack. “Better be careful, John, Mr. Cox wouldn’t like it if you damaged one of his precious children.”
“Shut up, Decker.”
“Nothing here,” the mercenary reported.
“Fine.” Morrow looked back at Ethan and grinned. “Search the boat.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
SOMETHING WOKE HIM.
Sitting upright, Paul listened. He heard a voice speaking through a bullhorn—though he couldn’t make out the words—and the low putt of an approaching engine. Curious, he slipped from bed and made his way toward the front room of his private bungalow. Edging up to the window, he scrutinized the activity near the water.
Despite the late hour, lights blazed, highlighting the landing and searching the black waters of the inlet. The newly arrived boat lolled against its moorings. Morrow, flanked by several of his thugs, stood on the docks, talking to the craft’s captain.
Paul hurried back to the bedroom.
Several days ago, he’d found Danny’s electronic trail, threading its way through the Haven’s system. After setting up firewalls to prevent him from accessing the children’s records, Paul had let the boy roam. This time, however, he hadn’t made the mistake of mentioning it to Cox. It had soon become obvious that Danny was gathering information about the island, maybe to pass on to someone planning a rescue attempt. Paul had experienced a rush of hope, because succeed or fail, a raid on the island might give him one last chance to escape.
Without turning on the lights, he rummaged along the top shelf of his closet. He’d hidden his clothes behind a stack of extra blankets, hoping the cleaning crew wouldn’t find them. His hands closed on the soft bundle, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Quickly, he pulled on the dark clothes: black slacks and turtleneck, a heavy sweater, boots, and gloves.
Next, he retrieved the soft overnight bag from beneath his bed. He’d packed it the day Danny and Callie had disappeared and he had been tempted to pull it out more than once. Something had always stopped him; now he was out of time. If he failed to get away tonight, they would kill him for sure. Whether they caught him fleeing, or because Cox no longer needed him, dead was dead. Running was no longer a risk, or a choice.
Bag in hand, he went to the bathroom and lifted the lid off the toilet tank. Inside was a handgun—he didn’t even remember what kind—stored in a plastic bag and taped to the side. He’d bought it years ago, never expecting to need it. Or so he’d told himself. Although some part of him must have known that he’d eventually have to run.
He slipped the gun into his pocket, then returned to the living room and took up his position near the window.
Now the real test, getting away from the bungalow.
Since Morrow had shown up with Callie and Sydney Decker, Cox’s men had kept Paul under constant watch. They escorted him to and from his office and assigned a guard to stand outside his door. Morrow had said it was for his safety, but Paul knew better.
Movement brought Paul’s attention back to the docks. Morrow and a couple of his men led two people from the boat toward the front entrance, one of them was Danny. Paul hadn’t expected that: He’d thought the boy would stay behind. Two other of Morrow’s soldiers boarded the boat. But whatever was about to happen, Paul was ready. All he needed was a distraction, just a few seconds to slip out the door.
MARCO FELT THE BOAT rock as the two men boarded her.
They descended into the cabin, opening cabinets, drawers, storage compartments, and dumping the contents. On his back beneath them, Marco aimed the Beretta upward. If they found the latch to the smuggler’s hold and opened it, he’d make them pay. That is, if they didn’t riddle the deck with bullets first.
They took their time, banging around the cabin like a team of gorillas. Marco waited patiently, eager to put a bullet between a pair of dull eyes. He could imagine the first man’s surprise as he faced his death. Killing the second man would be a contest of speed, a question of who wanted to live more.
Suddenly they left, cursing vividly about Morrow’s heritage as they deserted the cabin, the boat swaying again as they scurried off her. Marco frowned. He’d actually warmed to the idea of taking on the two clowns. It would have screwed up Decker’s carefully orchestrated plan, but it might have been worth it.
Tentatively, he pressed the release lever to shift the couch overhead. Then he waited: twenty seconds for the sound of returning feet.
Nothing.
He lifted the lid off his hiding place and shimmied out, staying close to the floor and clear of the portholes. He tucked the handguns into their holsters, slung the bag of explosives over his shoulder, and claimed the Remington from the hold. It was a nice piece, and he took a moment to stroke the walnut stock. He would enjoy using it. Too bad he didn’t have time to get off a round or two before all hell broke loose.
Keeping low, he went topside and inched his way to the railing. He spotted only one man patrolling the area, which didn’t mean there weren’t others lurking about. From the waterfront, the land sloped upward across a wide expanse of open space to a building complex, backed by a wall of trees. And smack in the middle of the front yard was a landing pad, complete with helicopter.
Marco smiled.
Decker had identified several permanent fixtures for his little light show, but Marco thought he might improvise a bit. He’d start with the other two boats. They’d provide a nice prelude for things to come, while drawing Cox’s men into the open.
He waited until the solitary guard had passed the Sea Devil, then Marco eased over the side. Slipping from shadow to shadow, he crossed to the nearest boat and flattened himself on the rough wooden dock beside it. He secured a lump of C4 to the hull just above the waterline, attaching a receiver with an electric blasting cap so he could trigger the explosion remotely. Again he had to wait for the guard to move off, then he repeated the procedure on the second boat.
Taking out the guard was the next step.
The man didn’t even see it coming. He stopped to light a cigarette, bending away from the breeze that lifted off the water. Marco jumped him from behind, snapping his neck with one quick twist, and lowered the body silently into the inky water.
Marco set the third charge on the gas pump at the far end of the landing, one of Decker’s targets. Then Marco darted ashore, skirting the tree line as he worked his way toward the helicopter pad and watched for more of Cox’s men.
Where were they?
Once Decker had shown up, Cox should have pulled them in from whatever remote corners of the island they patrolled. As if in answer to his question, a half dozen men carrying Uzis exited the woods. They scattered to various sentry positions around the building: two to flank the building’s entrance, another couple to the docks, a fifth to the helicopter pad, and the last inside.
Things were beginning to get interesting.
Marco circled behind the landing pad, used the chopper to cover his
approach, and dispensed with the guard in the same manner as the one on the docks. He dragged the body into the woods, then returned to set the fourth charge.
That left only Decker’s main objective: a small concrete bunker near the main building. Marco gave the other men a wide berth as he edged his way toward his objective. He had to admit, the structure with its power wires sprouting like weeds from its roof would make a spectacular finale.
After setting the last charge, it was only a matter of timing. He returned to the woods and took up his position on a small rise overlooking the facility and its small marina. He placed the transmitter within easy reach and set his sights on one of the men outside the facility’s double glass doors. When the fireworks started, he’d be the first to die.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
ETHAN PAID CAREFUL ATTENTION as Morrow’s men escorted him and Danny through the facility. He mentally checked off corridors and offices from Danny’s drawings and descriptions. The boy had an eye for detail and hadn’t missed much. Ethan guessed they were headed for a conference room buried deep within the building.
A few minutes later, Morrow confirmed Ethan’s hunch.
Ethan sized up the room. “Not bad. One door and no windows.” He’d have used this location himself if his and Morrow’s positions had been reversed. “Is it soundproof?”
“Sit.” Morrow indicated a chair against the far wall. “You, too, kid. Cox is on his way.”
Ethan dropped into the chair. “You didn’t have to wake him, did you?”
Morrow scowled and walked out, leaving behind two of his men. But Ethan doubted Cox’s lapdog had gone farther than the other side of the door. He would stay close, keeping an eye on his prize.
Ethan scrutinized the guards. They didn’t look too bright, but then, brains weren’t a job requirement for mercenaries. Hopefully the two tearing the Sea Devil apart weren’t the exception. Because if they found Ramirez, this charade would end real quick.
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