Choke Point

by Jay MacLarty

  “Probably. He saw an opportunity and tried to take it. Probably thought he could destroy the Alliance, and end up married to the golden child.”

  She made a contemptuous sound, like spitting a bug off the tip of her tongue. “I’m no child.”

  No, but certainly golden—in more ways than one, and she didn’t even know it. “He must have realized time was running out…that he needed to make a move.”

  “So he popped the question.”

  “Right.” And they both knew the result of that. “Enough about Atherton. What did you find out? Did you get close enough to hear anything?”

  She took a deep breath and let it go, as if trying to mentally erase the man from memory. “They’re concentrating on this side of the island. They’ve got sensors all over the place. It doesn’t sound good.”

  Exactly as he expected. “I’ve got an idea…” He let the words hang.

  She pulled up her legs, planting her feet on the edge of the rock, and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I’m listening.”

  “It’s risky.”

  “Risky is my middle name.”

  True enough, and just what he wanted to hear. “Do they have any special security around their camp?”

  “Not really,” she answered. “They think they’ve got us trapped on this side of the island. What do you have in mind?”

  “Stealing one of those Zodiacs. Is that possible?”

  She sat quietly, staring out at the dark sea, but her mind elsewhere, obviously picturing the camp in her mind. “Maybe,” she answered, her voice as distant as her thoughts. “They pull them out of the water at night. How far depends on the tide.”

  “I was thinking we might be able to steal one and disable the others.”

  “Disable how?”

  “Cut the gas lines…?” He purposely let the question hang, wanting to get her involved in the plan—as committed to the idea as he was.

  She shook her head without hesitation. “They’d smell it. They’re camped pretty close to the water, and the wind is usually blowing in. Be safer to puncture them.”

  “Whatever works.”

  She nodded slowly. “You’re right, it’s risky, but I like it—simple and straightforward.”

  “That’s me, Simple Simon.”

  She cocked her head, a yeah-right expression. “We wouldn’t be able to start the engine until we were quite a ways from the camp. Otherwise they’d hear us and…” She ran a finger across her throat.

  “Good point.” One he had already considered. He held up his bandaged arm. “I’m afraid you’ll have to do the heavy lifting.”

  She feigned a look of disgust, her tone sarcastic and teasing. “I have to do everything.”

  “The curse of being a Rynerson.”

  She glanced again at the sky, which was growing lighter by the minute, and jumped off the rock. “Maybe I can do something to improve our odds.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Where’s that cargo bag?” She started toward the cave, not waiting for an answer. “I saw some things that might help us.”

  Things? “What kind of things?”

  “It’s going to be light soon. I’ll explain when I get back.”

  “Back from where? Where are you going?”

  “Hunting.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  An Island in the South China Sea

  Saturday, 14 July 14:31:14 GMT +0800

  Though still hidden behind a layer of gray-white clouds, the sun seemed to be gaining strength, the storm slowly giving way. Simon retreated deeper into the rocks, ahead of the tide, which had begun its relentless march up the sand. Where in the hell was she? Hunting—what did that mean? What if she didn’t make it back before the tide came in?

  He was still chewing over the same questions, the water over his ankles, when she appeared between the rocks, the cargo bag slung over her shoulder, a dark silhouette against the leaden background of the sky. “Sorry it took so long.”

  He took a shallow breath, hiding his relief. “I didn’t notice.”

  “You’re a lousy liar, Leonidovich.” She plowed her way toward the entrance to the chamber. “We need to get inside, there are two guys in a Zodiac working their way up this end of the island.” She ducked beneath the overhang of rocks.

  Simon snapped on the flashlight and followed. “What do you mean by ‘working their way’?” He focused the light on their tree ladder.

  “You know what I mean.” She started to climb.

  Unfortunately, he did. “Are they staying in the boat, or actually walking the shoreline?”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “They were both in the boat, but I didn’t stick around to watch.” She tossed the cargo bag onto the ledge, then backed down. “Once the tide’s up, we’ll be okay.”

  “Right.”

  She stepped back into the water. “Just take it slow. No hurry.”

  He handed her the light, waited for her to refocus the beam, then started to climb, an awkward maneuver with only one hand. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “I did.”

  “Which was?”

  “A nice patch of Psilocybe Aucklandii.”

  “Ah, my favorite.” He edged his way upward. “What is it?”

  “Mushrooms.”

  “Great. I love mushrooms.”

  “They’re hallucinogenic.”

  “Even better.” He paused to catch his breath, the air so dense and muggy it was hard to swallow. “I prefer to be stoned out of my mind when they drown me.”

  “You always start joking around when you’re scared.”

  “I’m not scared. I’m appropriately concerned.”

  “Whatever.”

  He inched forward, hugging the wet tree with his legs. “So, what’s with the mushrooms?” As if he couldn’t guess. “And don’t tell me you’re going to try and sneak it into their food.”

  “It would give us a nice edge.”

  He looked down, but could barely make out her features in the reflected light. “Forget it! It’s too risky.”

  “Don’t get your testes in a twist, Leonidovich. I wouldn’t try anything unless the opportunity was right.”

  Opportunity was right! She made it sound like a business investment. “There’s isn’t going to be an opportunity…not unless they eat at two in the morning.” He reached up, found the broken-off stub of another branch, and pulled himself onto the ledge. “We’re going to be stuck in this damn place until midnight.”

  “I realize that, but you never know what’s going to happen. So I grabbed them. End of story.” She put the mini-flash in her mouth and began to climb.

  Within a minute they were both sitting directly over the entrance, the cargo bag between them. She reached over and gave his hand a little squeeze. “Ready?”

  “For what?”

  She snapped off the light and Simon instantly felt the chamber close around him. Shit. He leaned forward, staring down at the shadowy light reflecting off the water beneath the overhang, and tried to ignore his growing sense of claustrophobia. “Spooky.” His voice echoed through the darkness, sounding unnaturally tight and ghostly.

  “Cozy.”

  He closed his eyes, determined to overcome his phobia, when he felt the cargo bag shift against his leg. “Uh…Rynerson?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you just move the bag?”

  “No.”

  “Well, unless those mushrooms are still growing…growing really fast…there’s something alive in that bag.”

  “Is there?”

  “Rynerson…!”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

  Great, that’s just what he wanted to hear. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “You don’t bother it, it won’t bother you.”

  “A snake, right?”

  “A beaked sea snake, to be exact. Just a baby.”

  “Define baby.”

  “Less than eighteen inches.”

/>   Right, eighteen inches and a baby. He didn’t want to think about mom and dad. “And poisonous, I suppose?”

  “Very.”

  “Why in the world would you—”

  “It’s my secret weapon,” she cut in. “If I get a chance, I’m gonna slip this little guy into Atherton’s tent.”

  “A charming thought, but he’s damn near in my lap!”

  “Relax, I’ve got him in that nylon accessory bag. He can’t get out.”

  “You know I don’t like snakes.”

  “Snakes are cool. You just don’t understand them.”

  “What’s to understand? They’re cold-blooded and they bite. That’s enough for me.”

  “Don’t be a wuss, Leonidovich, snakes are fascinating creatures. This species especially.”

  “Uh-oh, I feel a lecture coming on.”

  “I’m serious, snakes are the most recently evolved of all reptiles. They descended from mosasaurs, marine predators that disappeared about the same time as the dinosaurs. This species actually evolved from terrestrial snakes, so they only recently returned to the watery realm of their ancestors.”

  “Really.” Normally, he would have said something sarcastic, but the sound of her voice kept his mind off the fact that they were about to be sealed in a watery, dark room with a sea snake. “That is interesting.”

  “Sea snakes are air breathers, but they have an extra lung that leads directly into their true lung, which in turn connects to an elongated air sac used for oxygen storage. Much like a diver’s aqualung. Are you going to tell me that isn’t interesting?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “They can even absorb oxygen through their skin,” she continued, her voice rising with enthusiasm. “Directly from the water.”

  “Fascinating.”

  “Don’t be a smartass, Leonidovich.”

  “No, really, I’m serious. It’s all very interesting, but that doesn’t mean I want one for a pet.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  He knew better. “You know the problem with reptiles?”

  “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

  “They have no expression. You don’t know if they’re looking at you as their next meal, or as a friendly provider. I like my pets furry and cuddly.”

  “I thought that was your choice in women.”

  “Absolutely not. I like women smooooooth and cuddly.”

  “See, you like smooth skin. If you would—”

  “What…?”

  “Shhhhh. You hear that?”

  For a moment, he heard nothing but the soft lap of waves, and then the low and unmistakable hum of a small outboard. He looked down, staring at the shadowy light, trying to measure the gap between the water and the overhang: two feet, maybe three. Not good.

  Kyra leaned across the cargo bag, her voice low and tight. “They’re slowing down.”

  “They won’t see the opening,” he whispered back, trying to sound confident, though his heart had already kicked into overdrive.

  She reached out, found his hand, and squeezed. “We’ll be okay.” Her words sounded hollow and full of wishful thinking.

  “Of course we will.” He cocked his head to the side, straining to hear, to calculate the distance. Twenty, maybe thirty yards, but with the wave action it was difficult to judge.

  The engine suddenly went silent, the hush so quick and unexpected Simon found it difficult to breathe. The seconds ticked slowly by, the silence intense and electric, then the scrape of rubber against rock, followed by the double splash of two men stepping into the water, the sound shockingly clear.

  “There’s nothing back in there, Big. Let’s move on.”

  “You stay with the boat,” the other man answered, his voice a raspy growl. “I’ll check it out.”

  “That’s the one they call Big Paddy,” Kyra whispered.

  Simon leaned close, until his lips touched her ear. “To hell with Atherton. If you can handle that snake in this light…”

  She nodded and placed a finger to her lips, as the sounds of a man sloshing through the water drew closer. He seemed to move past the opening, then stopped and came back.

  “Hey, Chrich, come here!” The man’s deep voice echoed through the chamber as a beam of light skipped off the water beneath Simon’s feet.

  As the second man splashed toward them, Kyra slowly unzipped the cargo bag, the metallic click-click-click-click loud as a rivet gun in Simon’s ear. He leaned back against the stone wall, forcing himself to breathe, to gain control of his heart, which felt like it was about to explode.

  The light flashed again, bouncing off the back wall. “Take a look.”

  Holding the snake just behind its head, Kyra pulled the angry reptile free of its enclosure. Despite the woman’s penchant for risk, she looked almost catatonic with fear, her hand shaking nearly as hard as the wiggling monster she was trying to control.

  Another flash of light. “I think you better check it out.”

  “Me! Why me?”

  “Because you’re smaller’n me, asshole.”

  “Bloody hell. I’m not going in there.”

  “Brick said to check everything.”

  “So you do it,” the other man snapped. “You’re the one’s always actin’ like a badass.”

  Big Paddy answered with a scornful grunt. “And you’re nothin’ but a chicken-ass flyboy. Gimme that Uzi.”

  “That’s Brick’s gun. You get it wet, you clean it.”

  Another grunt, another flash of light, and then Big Paddy was in the chamber, standing directly below Kyra. He swept the flashlight from side to side, then up and down the walls, past the tree…then back…the light hovering over their makeshift ladder. Simon could almost see the gray matter bubbling in the big man’s head, and realized it would take him only a second or two to put it all together. Do it now! Do it now! Then he realized she couldn’t, her entire body rigid with fear. The snake looked equally incapacitated—either oxygen-starved from Kyra’s death grip, or simply waiting for its opportunity to strike—its long body hanging limpid and straight. Ohhhhh, shit! He reached out, grabbed the beast from her hand, leaned forward, quickly adjusted his aim, and let it go. It seemed to hover for a moment, its body twisting frantically, searching for solid ground, then dropped straight down, landing across the man’s shoulder.

  Big Paddy let out a yelp and the snake reacted, striking the big man’s neck before he could grab it and fling it against the far wall. He stumbled back, blindly firing the Uzi—briefly turning the chamber into a storm of flashing thunderbolts—before disappearing beneath the overhang.

  Deafened by the jarring reverberations, it took a few moments before Simon could hear anything, and then inexplicably, it was the sound of receding laughter.

  “It ain’t funny, Chrich! The damn thing bit me.”

  “Don’t go all barmy. I’m sure it was harmless. You just scared the little thing.”

  “It wasn’t so fuckin’ little, asshole!”

  Simon reached out, found Kyra’s hand, and gave it a squeeze. She squeezed back, holding on until the sound of the Zodiac faded, then she laughed, a great relieved chuckle. “Sorry, I don’t know what happened. That man…the thought of being trapped…”

  But Simon knew exactly what happened—a flashback to El Pato prison—a memory that would make anyone freeze up. “Happens to everyone.”

  “Not you.”

  “Trust me, Rynerson, I reacted out of fear, not courage.”

  She chuckled again. “Told you snakes were cool.”

  “You think it’s still alive?”

  “Probably.”

  “And more than a little pissed off, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Royally.”

  He glanced down at the narrow band of light still visible beneath his feet. “Wonderful.” He didn’t try to hide the sarcasm.

  “What’s the problem?”

  “Another couple of minutes and we’re going to be trapped in here for the next
nine hours with a pissedoff snake. That’s the problem.”

  “They’re really quite shy.” She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Nothing to worry about.”

  Right, except that wasn’t the only snake he was worried about.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  An Island in the South China Sea

  Saturday, 14 July 20:01:14 GMT +0800

  Absorbed in thought, Mawl didn’t notice Atherton had gotten up from the table until he spoke. “What the hell is that?” It was obvious from his tone that whatever it was, it wasn’t good enough for him.

  Mawl let it go—for the moment, the man remained the client—but that would change soon enough. “Irish stew. As close as I make it with all this canned shit. I thought the boys might appreciate a decent meal.”

  Atherton glanced toward the three men huddled in the trees. “I don’t think it’s food they’re talking about.”

  Mawl nodded, it was true, they were doing more talking than digging. “They just need some time.”

  “Time,” Atherton repeated, his tone mocking. “We’re out of time.” He cocked his head toward the west and the hazy yellow globe that hung above the horizon. “That’s the first time we’ve seen the sun in four days. This storm is over. By midday tomorrow, there’s going to be search planes all over this area.”

  Mawl nodded, as if he needed that fact shoved in his face. “And I intend to have all four boats sitting off that end of the island by daybreak. If they show their heads, we’ll see them first. We’ll get them.”

  “So you say.”

  Mawl ignored the sarcasm. “The accident set us back.” A weak excuse, he realized, but it had, in fact, cost them half a day. Big Paddy had not gone easily—putting up an agonizing and ugly fight that lasted six hours—and that left the men somewhat reluctant to go sticking their heads into dark spots. “They’ll be ready to go by morning.”

  “I’m sure,” Atherton said, tilting his head back in that superior way he had of speaking while looking down his nose. “But I’ve been thinking about it, and I’m not so sure it was an accident.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Snakes don’t jump on people.”