Alaska Wild

by Helena Newbury

  I put everything I had into wriggling forward. There was some sort of metal shelving unit to my left and I grabbed it and pulled, even though the sharp metal dug painfully into my hand. And then I was slithering through the porthole and crashing to the floor with a bang.

  For a moment I just lay there, exhausted. It was cold in the room but, compared to the storm outside, lying on the chilled tiles felt like sunbathing. The wind had stripped every last particle of heat from my body. I wrapped my arms around me and shivered for a while before I could even lift my head to look around.

  I realized I was in the galley. All the lights were off and only a sliver of light came from under the door. I climbed to my feet and crept between rows of shelves holding everything from sacks of rice to fresh melons, then emerged into the main kitchen.

  First things first: as soon as I saw a butcher’s knife, I grabbed it. Then I cracked open the door and looked out. To one side of me was a wall: I was now on the far side of the dead end I’d reached before. I realized the yacht must be divided into an area for the crew and an area for the guests, and by going outside I’d managed to slip around the dividing wall. Listening, I could just make out Ralavich cursing on the far side. He had no idea where I was...but that would change as soon as he broke down the door and saw the open porthole.

  I needed a plan and I didn’t have one. The only thing I could think of was to find a radio or phone and call the coastguard. I headed down the companionway, trying to go quietly despite my chattering teeth and numb, clumsy legs. But when I passed a porthole and saw dark, rocky land passing by, I cursed. That must be Little Diomede and Big Diomede, the islands that mark the halfway point between the US and Russia. I had to hurry. In another few minutes, we’d be in Russian waters and I’d be out of reach of any help.

  At that moment, I heard footsteps approaching from around the corner. I changed course and headed down a set of metal stairs instead. As I descended I could hear voices above me. Angry, urgent voices. They were searching for me.

  I opened door after door, but didn’t find a radio. The next door I opened led to a big room full of pounding noise and heat. The engine room.

  I could hear footsteps coming down the stairs. I stepped inside, thinking fast. If I couldn’t call for help, the next best thing I could do was to stop the yacht. If we were stranded, the coastguard might investigate. And if we wound up wrecked...well, at least Weiss wouldn’t get away.

  I put down the butcher knife and picked up a heavy wrench. The instructions on the controls were all in Cyrillic so my strategy was going to be to just smash everything and hope that that worked.

  I lifted the wrench above my head, about to bring it down—

  A gun barrel pressed against my temple.

  I froze...and turned my head to see Marshal Phillips standing there.

  “Drop the wrench,” he said with great satisfaction.

  I let it go and it bounced off the metal deck with a clang like a church bell. “Weiss is going to kill you,” I told him. “You and Hennessey.”

  “I’d better prove I’m still useful, then,” said Phillips. “Catching you should help. Come on. Ralavich and Weiss are waiting for you upstairs.”

  My stomach heaved. I couldn’t face that. Better to die here: at least it would be quick. I dropped to a crouch, grabbing for the wrench...but I knew there was no way I could get it and swing it at Phillips before he fired. Before I’d even touched the wrench, he had his gun pointed at my head again and I saw his finger tighten on the trigger—

  But the shot never came. Phillips was frozen in place, just as I had been. I grabbed the wrench and stood. That’s when I saw the gleam of the butcher’s knife pressed to his throat.

  Marshal Hennessey stepped out from the shadows behind him, pressing just hard enough with the blade to indent the skin without drawing blood.

  I stared at him, wide-eyed. With everyone searching for me, they’d forgotten to keep an eye on him. We’d all underestimated the old marshal.

  Hennessey nodded at the control console. “Smash that fucking thing,” he spat.

  I raised the wrench high above my head and then brought it down on the center of the console. Metal dented but we kept moving. My second swing shattered a dial and there were a few sparks. On the third swing I heard a satisfying crunch of circuitry and the every bulb on the ship blew out, plunging us into darkness. The thunder of the engines quickly died and the deck started to shift under our feet as we began to drift.

  “What have you done?” croaked Phillips in the blackness. “We’re right by the islands. We’ll be smashed on the rocks!”

  “He’s right,” muttered Hennessey. “We’d better get topside and look for a life raft.”

  But even as he said it, I heard boots pounding down the metal stairs. As soon as the engines stopped, the mercenaries had figured out where we were. I snatched Phillips’ gun from his hand but we were outnumbered and outgunned. We’re going to die down here.

  67

  Boone

  Swimming in a gale isn’t like swimming: it’s like climbing. I was hauling myself up the side of each huge wave, clawing at it with my arms as if I was trying to scale a glacier. Then, at the peak, I’d drop down the other side so fast I plunged down under the surface, only to emerge for the next ascent.

  My entire body was so cold, I could barely feel anything beyond my torso. My wounded arm was screaming at me to rest, but swimming was the only thing keeping me warm. When I stopped, I was dead. And however fast I swam, the yacht was still easily pulling away from me. I was just delaying the inevitable.

  But I wouldn’t quit. I kept my arms and legs going through sheer stubbornness, what my old SEAL instructor liked to call an inability to quit. Kate was on that yacht and she needed me and by God, I was going to reach her, even if I had to swim all the way to Russia.

  On the next ascent, though, I didn’t make it all the way to the top, the cap of the wave smacking me in the face. I went under and, on the next wave, it was even worse. I was in a downward spiral, now, arms and legs growing leaden, the sea winning....

  And then I saw something impossible. The yacht started to turn to the side and then lean drunkenly as the wind took her. She was drifting.

  I had no idea how that could happen. Engine trouble? Kate? But I wasn’t going to let it go to waste. I put everything I had into swimming for the yacht. Every stroke brought me closer, now. My shoulders were on fire and my hips screamed but I kept on tearing through the water, terrified that I’d see the yacht pull away again just as I reached it—

  I grabbed a dangling rope and hauled myself up to the deck. I rolled over the handrail and just lay on the soaking wood for a moment while I recovered. Then I climbed to my feet. I’d lost the shotgun when my boat flipped over so I was unarmed. But I was mad. That would have to do.

  The guards I’d seen out on deck were all gone. When I crept inside, I heard gunfire from below decks. Kate? I headed that way. The whole ship was pitch black—the electrics must have shorted out. I could hear my own breathing echo in the narrow companionways, sense the walls close to my face. It was almost like being back in the coffin.

  But this time, it didn’t trigger the fear. The memories were still there. They always would be. But they didn’t have the same power over me, anymore. Something had changed, deep inside me. I had something new and real to hold onto, something more powerful than any amount of past horrors. I had her.

  When I turned the corner I saw the first mercenary up ahead, leaning over the top of a stairwell to fire. They must have Kate pinned down, somewhere down there. I could hear the throaty rattle of their assault rifles and the lonely bangs of a handgun in return. I didn’t know how many mercenaries there were: three had come to Alaska but I had no idea how many more had been waiting on the yacht.

  It didn’t matter. I’d wade through an army if I had to.

  I crept up behind the mercenary, slammed my fist into his head and then gently lowered his unconscious body to the dec
k. I took his rifle and crept down the stairs. It was pitch black down there, the only light coming from the muzzle flash each time a gun fired. I glimpsed four more mercenaries clustered around a doorway, firing inside. With them was a tall, overweight Russian in a suit. And beside him—

  Weiss.

  “Leave her!” I heard the Russian snarl. “We have to go before we’re carried into the rocks!”

  Then Weiss’s voice. “I am not leaving without that bitch!”

  I growled and ran down the rest of the stairs firing, desperate to draw their attention away from Kate. I managed to take down two of the mercenaries before they could react but the other two spun and shot back. I had to duck back behind cover and, in the flashes of muzzle fire, I saw Weiss and the big Russian flee into the darkness in opposite directions. Shit!

  I’d worry about them later. I had to save Kate. I waited until the mercenaries stopped to reload and then ran at them, firing into the blackness until my gun ran empty and then just charging at the last place I’d seen them.

  There was a satisfying grunt as I slammed into one of them. I felt the other beside me and grabbed him, hurling him at the wall. And then everything was quiet.

  “Kate?” I called through the darkened doorway.

  A second’s heart-stopping pause. Then, “Mason?!”

  I felt around on the bodies of the unconscious mercenaries until I found a flashlight and flicked it on, shining it through the doorway. I started forward but I’d barely crossed the threshold when a warm body thumped into my chest. “Oh God,” she whispered. “I thought I’d never see you again!”

  I clutched her tight to me, wrapping my arms around her and cradling her head on my shoulder. Then I pushed her back just far enough that I could kiss her. The touch of her was like a drug, a warm glow that throbbed through me and drove back the pain and cold. I only broke the kiss when marshal Hennessey stepped out of the shadows, holding Marshal Phillips prisoner with a knife to his throat. “We’ve got to get out of here,” he told us. “Before—”

  The whole room suddenly jerked to the side as if an 18-wheeler had slammed into us. All four of us went flying. I managed to land under Kate, cushioning her a little, and sucked air through my teeth as my injured arm hit the metal deck. We all looked at each other. It sank in that we hadn’t suddenly moved; we’d suddenly stopped.

  A groaning, shrieking noise echoed along the wall, coming closer and closer. Then the yacht started to move again, grating sideways against whatever it had slammed into. It sounded like a monster clawing its way along the hull.

  “Oh God,” whispered Kate. She climbed off me and tried to haul me to my feet. “Get up! We’ve got to—”

  The first rupture brought a paper-thin sheet of water that shot the full width of the room. Then huge rents were being opened up, glistening black rocks ripping through the metal like wet paper, and the ocean roared in.

  68

  Kate

  The water rose scarily quickly: it was up to our knees before we could reach the stairs. And then, with an ear-splitting screech of tortured metal, the yacht started to tear apart, the rear half rotating and opening up a huge hole in one wall. Phillips, who was staggering along beside Hennessey, was swept off his feet and then out into the ocean. He thrashed, hysterical. “I can’t swim!”

  Hennessey cursed. Looked at us. Looked at Phillips...and then dived in and swam after him, disappearing into the black waters.

  We had to retreat up the stairs as the water rose, then up another set to the main deck. We met two more mercenaries coming the other way but Boone slammed them against the wall before they could even raise their guns, leaving them in a groaning heap. He snatched up one of their rifles before running on.

  As we came out into the open, I had to twist to one side just to breathe, the wind was so strong. It howled past my ears, so loud I could barely think. Between the spray and the water that had rushed into the engine room, I was soaked through and now the wind was stripping the last bits of warmth from my body. Boone wrapped his arms around me from behind to shield me from the worst of it, but I couldn’t stop shivering.

  When I saw the black cliffs to either side of us, I started to understand what had happened. We’d rammed right into Big Diomede, the Russian island, and now the yacht was breaking apart in the waters between it and Small Diomede, the Alaskan island. With the hull split wide open, it was going down fast: I could actually feel it settling lower and lower under my feet.

  I saw movement in the water and caught my breath. The launch that had brought us to the yacht was powering away, piloted by one of the mercenaries...and I could see Ralavich hunkered in the back, glaring at us. Boone raised his assault rifle but the boat was already too far away.

  “Son of a bitch,” I muttered to myself in disbelief. I knew he was a criminal, but… “He just upped and left Weiss?” The yacht was sinking but I was stunned that Ralavich would just abandon his passenger when he was worth so much.

  Then the yacht and the sea around us were lit up in brilliant white. I had to shield my eyes to see the source. It was blasting down on us from a point of light in the sky and I could just make out the roar of helicopter blades over the wind.

  The US Coast Guard was here. Someone on one of the islands must have alerted them to a ship in distress. That’s why Ralavich had fled so quickly. He didn’t want to risk being caught.

  I breathed a little easier: Weiss must still be on board. Once he was in custody, he wouldn’t be able to pay Ralavich. Ralavich would be out for the cost of the entire operation, plus we’d wrecked his yacht. That would end his plans to expand his empire into the US.

  But then my stomach twisted. Only if we get him into custody. Once the Coast Guard started lifting us off the sinking yacht, it was going to be chaos. I had visions of Coast Guard officers dragging us into their helicopter while Weiss slipped away.

  We had to finish this. I had to know Weiss was caught. I was frozen and exhausted and running on empty. But I was still FBI and I had a job to do.

  I ran down the length of the yacht, staggering a little on my freezing legs. I searched frantically but I couldn’t see him anywhere. Am I too late?!

  I knew I was being stubborn. I was freezing and running on empty and the yacht was breaking up. But I wasn’t going to let the bastard get away.

  Then, as I rounded the final corner, I spotted him. He was at the bottom of the stairs which led to the bridge, struggling to get a big, orange bundle that could only be a life raft over the rail. Shit!

  I ducked back behind the corner. Checked the gun I’d taken off Phillips. My hands were shaking, I was so cold. I took a deep breath and stepped around the corner to confront him—

  A big hand caught my shoulder. I yelped in surprise as Boone pulled me back around the corner and pushed me hard up against a wall.

  He put his mouth to my ear so that I could hear him over the wind. “I’ve lost you enough times,” he growled. “I am not losing you again. We’ll take him together.”

  I drew in a deep, shuddering breath, my chest pressing against his as my lungs filled. God, he felt good. I nodded.

  Boone cocked his assault rifle, I raised my gun...and we ran forward.

  Weiss whirled around as we rushed him and I glimpsed the gun in his hand. He fired once and missed, the shot hissing between us. Then he was lifted clean off his feet by Boone’s fist. He crashed down on the deck, dropping his gun. Before I could grab him, he was up and pounding up the stair. Both of us sprinted after him but, as we entered the bridge, I relaxed. There was only one door: we had him cornered.

  “You’re under arrest!” I snarled as the bridge door closed behind us. It was blessedly quiet inside, after the gale, and a little warmer.

  “Wait,” said Weiss breathlessly. “Wait!” He flattened himself against the far wall.

  “It’s over,” I snapped. I advanced on him step by furious step. “Ralavich abandoned you. The Coast Guard’s almost here. We’re taking you back to the US!” I cou
ld hear the helicopter right overhead, now. They’d be here any minute.

  Weiss had gone pale. He looked so much smaller, without his goons to back him up. “We can make a deal!”

  Boone and I both shook our heads and strode towards him.

  “Listen!” snapped Weiss as Boone grabbed him by the throat. “Listen!”

  I put my hand on Boone’s arm to still him, wanting to hear.

  Weiss talked fast. “If the US Coast Guard pick us up, it’s not just me who’s going to jail.” He nodded at Boone. “He will, too.”

  I froze. He was right. They’d hand Boone over to the authorities and he’d be locked up.

  Weiss pounced on my hesitation. “Get in the life raft with me! There’s still time! We’re practically on Big Diomede and that’s Russian soil! The US can’t touch us! You can both start new lives in Russia. Together! Nobody has to go to jail. And I’ll throw in a million dollars each.”

  I looked up. The roar of helicopter blades almost drowned out the storm, now. We had seconds, if we wanted to escape. I looked at Boone. It wasn’t the money. It was getting him out of the jail term he didn’t deserve. Maybe I could get him a retrial but what if I couldn’t? What if it failed? In Russia, we could live out a quiet, happy life, find someone to help with his PTSD...I closed my eyes for a second, then looked up into his. “It’s your call,” I whispered.

  Boone looked down at me and then shook his head. “No way.”

  “You’ll go to jail!”

  He still had Weiss’s throat in one hand. With the other, he reached down and cupped my cheek. “I can handle it, now. At least until you get me out.”

  I clung to his arm. “What if I can’t?!”