by Lyle Howard
Geiger had already rummaged through the entire cabin and had come up empty. Without fresh batteries to replace the corroded pair in Bushkin’s handheld radio, there would be no signaling for reinforcements. “He’s got enough booze and drugs onboard to give half the island a major league buzz, but no batteries! How did he ever pass his Coast Guard inspection without a working radio?”
After combing through a plastic tool box for a few more seconds, the deputy found a torn pink slip of official-looking paper. “Never mind,” he screamed against the wind, “I found his citation! The Marine Patrol nailed him for a hundred twenty five bucks last weekend for improper equipment!”
Cal knew from his frequent across-the-bar conversations with the corrupt attorney that Bushkin possessed the flawed characteristic of always trying to circumvent the law. A hundred and twenty five dollars was probably chump change to the well-to-do lawyer, but it was good to know that the system still worked every once in a while.
“Find anything else useful?” Cal shouted back, his arms straining to keep the boat on an even keel.
Geiger tossed a box of condoms out onto the deck. Cal glanced down at the box and laughed. “Well, at least he had his priorities in order!”
The deputy stuck his head out again. “Bushkin suffers from delusions of grandeur! He’s got a whole freaking case of ‘em down here!”
“Forget that stuff, just keep looking!”
Geiger pulled himself out of the cabin and stood next to Mackey, bracing himself by holding onto the top edge of the windshield. “There’s nothing else down there, Cal,” he said, gathering in the fresh sea air. “Beside the three baggies of Columbian party favors, all I could find were just some basic tools, about a hundred feet of mooring rope, a change of clothes for him and his date, some snacks, and his case of weenie wrappers!”
Cal steadied himself as the boat took a tremendous wave head on. “Find any flares?”
As the backwash from the wave poured over the Bayliner, the deputy was beginning to think he was better off staying below deck. “Yeah, surprisingly enough, he’s got a complete safety kit.”
Cal’s mind was scrambling for a plan. Sneaking aboard the Nocturne while it was sitting still in port was one thing, but getting onto the ship while it was underway, raised an entirely different set of concerns. “What kind of ropes did you say Bushkin had down there?”
“I don’t know,” Geiger shrugged. “Rope, white rope, and lots of it.”
Mackey was afraid of his thoughts. It was insanity to think something so perilous could work. “I want you to go below and start tying knots in that rope three or four feet apart.”
The deputy wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. Not that it helped, because his shirt was twice as soaked as his skin. “Knots? What kind of knots?”
“You must have been a boy scout when you were a kid; whatever you know how to tie,” Cal answered, steering the bow of the boat into another oncoming wave. “Just make sure they’re big and taut.”
Geiger was happy to oblige. The chances of him getting seasick were greater below deck, but it didn’t matter to him anymore. His gills were already greener than his front lawn. “Do I earn a merit badge for this?”
Mackey leaned forward against the wheel so his friend could pass by. “Was one of the tools you found down there a hammer?”
The deputy was halfway down into the cabin. “Yes. I think it was a claw hammer. I can check. Give me a second.”
Cal never thought his elite military training would ever come into play again in his lifetime. It wouldn’t be the first time he was wrong about something in his life. “A claw hammer is perfect!” he yelled.
Below deck, Gieger quickly found the hammer and set it down on a surface that was supposed to pass for a sink counter, but was really smaller than a checkerboard. Even with the boat lurching in every conceivable direction, he began tying knots as Mackey had instructed him. “How are you planning on getting close enough to their ship, Cal?” Geiger shouted from below. “You said you saw a pretty sophisticated surveillance system onboard, right?”
Mackey could barely hear Geiger over the screaming engine. “I’m not worried about the radar anymore!”
With his head continually bumping into the roof of the cabin, and his hands tangled in the seemingly endless length of rope, the deputy tried to keep his fears on the outskirts of his thoughts. “Since when?” he yelled up through the opening.
Without hesitation, Cal reached into the pocket of his sweatpants and tossed something down into the cabin.
Glinting like a sparkling jewel in the cabin’s subdued light, a rectangular piece of green and silver metal bounced awkwardly down the three steps and came to rest on the rain-soaked carpeting by Geiger’s feet. A conniving smile crossed the deputy’s lips as soon as he recognized the object as a component from a circuit board.
Cal laughed incorrigibly. “Ever since I dismantled it!”
Nineteen
Becky Abrams’ psychological engine had long ago sputtered past the rural town of Anxiety, and was now tearing across the mental Autobahn toward the big city called Panic. As well as she could recollect, it had been nearly four hours since she had regained consciousness. The maddening dripping sound that had plagued her since she had first opened her eyes, had stopped well over an hour ago, only to be replaced by the most agonizing muscle cramp she had ever experienced in the nape of her neck. It was useless to struggle anymore; her forehead, wrists and ankles were burned raw from the leather bindings still holding them firm. All she could do was wait. Strapped to the table like the Bride of Frankenstein, she just prayed that her captors would appear soon. The women in the Abrams clan weren’t exactly world-renown for their large bladders.
Muffled voices from outside... and the slow, drawn out turning of the doorknob somewhere off to her left...
Becky’s eyes never blinked. She couldn’t see the entire door, but it had cracked open a bit—she was sure of it. Someone was coming in!
A single voice speaking very rapidly in a foreign language. Well, speaking was a polite term for its forceful tone. It sounded more like commands... The door swung open and someone stepped inside, letting the door close behind them...
Her eyes were straining so far to the left, they hurt. She glimpsed a piece of an arm, but could see no more. Whoever it was knew her limitations and was staying purposely beyond the range of her vision.
“The identification in your bag reads Rebecca Abrams? Am I pronouncing this correctly?”
He had gone through her stuff! The violation was complete!
Becky wasn’t sure how she was supposed to respond with a gag in her mouth, so she just made noises that gave the appearance that she was trying to string words together.
“I want you to blink once for yes, and twice for no. Do you understand me?”
Still looking left, Becky blinked.
“Did I pronounce your name correctly, Rebecca?”
His English wasn’t bad, but it was obvious he wasn’t comfortable with the language.
She blinked again. There was the cold, hard sound of heels clicking on the marble floor and the noise drew closer.
He’s behind me now.
Never had she been so repulsed by the breath of a man warming her neck.
“If I remove the muzzle from your mouth, will you scream?”
His words slithered out of his mouth. She could tell he was enjoying having a woman strung up.
Becky blinked.
“You will scream?” he whispered in her right ear.
A simple code, but who could remember such things at a time like this? Immediately, she blinked twice.
“Ah, that is more like it. I will hold you to your word, Rebecca.”
She could feel the moist heat from his voice as he moved around behind her. Seconds later, the gag tumbled free from her mouth. No words could describe the sheer ecstasy she felt as her lips were finally allowed to function normally again. Her tongue darted over them, moistenin
g her mouth like a wet paint brush.
He was making a conscious choice to stand behind her...
“Is that better?”
What a sympathetic guy!
“Just peachy,” she grunted.
“Peachy? What does this mean … peachy?”
Damn foreigners!
“Peachy ... terrific!”
“I will never understand your American jargon. You never say what you really mean. You are always speaking sarcastically.”
Abrams let the words flow freely now that her mouth was no longer muzzled. “Who are you, where am I, and what have you done with Allen?”
A pair of fingers reached out and fondled her hair on the right side. She nearly jumped out of her restraints at their cold touch!
One more scare like that and they were going to be mopping up Budweiser for a week!
“Don’t touch me!”
The fingers withdrew. “Ah, a headstrong woman! That is good. Very good.”
Abrams gritted her teeth. “I asked you a question. Where the hell am I?”
His voice sounded very matter-of-fact. “You are in an infirmary of sorts.”
“But we’re moving. I can feel the motion.”
The disembodied voice was monotone in its delivery. “Yes, that is true. We are out to sea.”
Her eyes swiveled back and forth, trying to determine where he was standing. “At sea? Where are we going? How long was I out?”
“For a beautiful young woman, you are very sharp. You ask many intelligent questions.”
What fifteenth century rock had this guy crawled out from under? What? A woman couldn’t be both attractive and bright?
“You’ve got me trussed up like a damned Thanksgiving turkey! Don’t you think I’ve earned the right to some answers here?”
He chuckled out loud as he stepped around the upright table to face her.
Oh my God! He’s gorgeous! Not at all what I expected!
Staring into his rugged face, much of her apprehension dissolved. She was obviously not as astute as she believed herself to be.
“That is quite an analogy, Rebecca,” he laughed. “I have never considered my benefactors as Thanksgiving turkeys before, but under the circumstances, I can see the similarity. That is very good indeed. I will have to remember that expression.”
Did he say benefactor? Quick, girl; remember back to Mrs. William’s tenth-grade vocabulary class! Benefactor... that meant one that gave aid. So, exactly what kind of aid are we talking about here?
Becky tried not to let the fear that was overwhelming her show. “Well, I’m glad at least one of us sees something humorous in all of this! So, why don’t you release me from this oversized cookie sheet and we’ll just call it a day, okay? No harm, no foul. Just let me go and I’ll keep my mouth shut. How about it?”
Von Robles moved nearer until his face was a scant few inches away from hers. This close, she could see that the color of his eyes were almost black, with no discernible boundary separating the pupil and iris. Perhaps under less dreadful conditions she would have been incredibly attracted to him. She had always harbored a thing for older men.
“I will answer all of your questions in due time, Rebecca,” he said, rubbing the back of one of his icy fingers down the side of her face. “First, let me introduce myself. My name is Wolfgar Von Robles, and I am your host here.”
“Host?”
Von Robles raised an eyebrow. “You must forgive me. English isn’t one of my favorite languages. I sometimes misuse terms.”
No matter how good looking he was, she had to keep reminding herself this guy was demented with a capital D.
Becky gnashed her teeth. It was a relief to manage such a simple gesture once again. “Host? When was the last time you read a book on etiquette, mister? Since when is it polite to bind and gag your guests?”
Von Robles retreated a step and clasped his hands behind his back as he studied this brazen new donor.
He’s gawking at me like a piece of meat in a supermarket freezer case!
“You appear to be a very healthy young woman,” Von Robles remarked. “Full of enthusiasm and vigor!”
Think quick, girl, or he’s gonna carve you up like a Kosher butcher!
“Your mistake, Wolfgar. I’ve got more viruses pumping through my body than a rhesus monkey. I’m not a keeper. I’m one of those scrawny fish you’re supposed to throw back!”
Von Robles’ head rolled back in laughter. “I should just keep you around for the entertainment value, Rebecca! I had forgotten what it was to have such a good laugh!”
You should hyperventilate from laughter and drop dead you creep!
Von Robles was still chuckling as he pointed to her left arm. Not being able to look down, she would have to take his word on it. “We have already drawn a sample of your blood and analyzed it, Rebecca. You are a perfectly healthy specimen. Otherwise...”
Otherwise? Otherwise what?
Her captor walked over to a nearby console and pressed a button. Slowly, her table pivoted to the right.
Allen Bushkin had been strapped to a table the same as her. Only, beneath the straps, he had been stripped down to his plaid boxer shorts.
Don’t scream, girl. That’s the reaction this sick freak wants!
His body was as pale as fresh snow, the color completely sapped from his skin. His eyelids were thankfully shut, hiding the lifeless orbs behind them.
“Mr. Bushkin must have been a very heavy smoker, was he not?”
And they say cigarettes will kill you?
“I didn’t know him all that well.”
A drainage tube stretched from Bushkin’s right ankle to somewhere behind him that she was unable to see. She could tell that the tube was originally clear, but was now stained a creamy shade of pink from coagulated blood.
“His system was rife with impurities,” Von Robles said, unemotionally. “He was of no use to me.”
So, this is where years of clean living and abstinence had brought her to?
“Why did you have to let him die like that?”
Von Robles walked over to Bushkin’s corpse and pulled the tube out of his ankle with a sickening snap. “This is not the way I would prefer to do business. I am just doing...”
The door to the compartment swung open and Alexi and Ian entered timidly. Von Robles displayed his European charm, half-bowing in Becky’s direction and excusing himself.
“You two are a mess,” he growled at the men, in his native language. Look at your faces! You look like you have been trampled on by a herd of elephants!”
Both men avoided his gaze, choosing instead to stare down at their shoes.
“He was just one man!”
“But he took us by surprise and he was dressed in dark clothing! We could not see to land a punch,” Alexi said, trying to support his claim.
Von Robles pursed his lips as he put his arm around Alexi’s broad shoulders. “I understand completely, Alexi. It was dark ... he was dark ... everything was dark…”
“I know we should have captured them, sir. It was an embarrassing mistake on our part.”
Von Robles turned to the smaller, but no less humiliated henchman, Ian. “And was it too dark out there for you as well?”
“It was very dark, sir,” the second guard agreed. “But I was preoccupied trying to apprehend the intruder that was checking out the helicopter.”
Von Robles wiggled his finger from side to side. “Ah, you mean the other one who managed to escape.”
Ian swallowed hard. This wasn’t coming out at all the way he and Alexi had rehearsed it on the way down here. “It was raining very hard...” he protested.
Von Robles nodded as though he understood. “Raining very hard too, eh?”
They looked at each other and mumbled in agreement. “Hard... very hard rain.”
Von Robles had his arms draped around both men’s shoulders. “Well, that is all water under the bridge now, gentlemen. We must not let something like that happ
en again. Agreed?”
Alexi and Ian both nodded repentantly. “Never again, sir!” Alexi promised.
“Yes sir, it will not happen again!” Ian assured him.
“Good ... good, then I am glad we all understand one another. Now I need both of you to help dispose of the body over there,” he said, pointing across the cabin at Bushkin.
“Over the side?” Ian asked nervously.
Von Robles let his fingers trace his lips as he considered his alternatives. “No ... acid bath, I think.”
The thought of watching another human being’s skin, organs, and bone decompose in a pool of bubbling, smoking acid made Alexi shiver. “Must it be the acid bath, sir?”
Von Robles turned to the big man who stood nearly a head taller than himself, but was still six inches shorter than Raimund. “Consider it your penance for a job poorly done.”
Ian looked at Alexi angrily for having asked the question. Unlike his all muscle and no brains partner, Ian understood that this was their punishment for having allowed the two trespassers to slip through their fingers. “We will take care of it right away, sir,” Ian vowed, as he walked over to a nearby table and slipped a pair of plastic gloves over his hands.
“Get over here and help me, Alexi,” Ian ordered, as he began unbuckling the leather straps holding Bushkin to the table, and winding in the intravenous tubing around his protected hand.
Alexi made his way over to the table and let Bushkin’s lifeless body fall limp onto his shoulder. Carrying the lawyer like a sack of wheat meal, the big man waited for his smaller partner to hold open the compartment door for him.