Critical Mass

by Steve Martini

  He went under immediately. The trick now was not to get tangled in the chute or the shrouds. In the water, with any kind of current, it could drag you down. Even with the right gear, using engineered releases, it was possible to be dragged through the water by tidal rips and towed into deep, pressure-crushing trenches by falling cold-water currents.

  Conners hit the release on his harness. It popped open. Quickly he swam away from the lines. The chute was weighted around the seams so that it would slowly sink.

  Conners got to the surface and cleared his mask. He tasted the brine around his mouth as he spit the mouthpiece out and bobbed in the water. There were small whitecaps forming, wind blowing in a westerly direction. He could hear one of the men calling. Each of them had a small light mounted on the shoulder of their suit. It emitted an intense halogen beam. Conners could see two flickering beams, like Tinker Bell bobbing in the distance. He lowered his mask and bit into the mouthpiece, then lowered his face in the water and began to kick. It took him several minutes swimming against the current to reach the other two men. They were struggling with one of the floating cargo pallets. It was still attached to the cargo chute.

  Conners lifted his face mask and spit out his mouthpiece.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “We can’t get it to release.”

  The parachute had filled with water and was acting as a massive sea anchor. It was going down and hauling their gear with it. The men were hanging on, trying to buoy it.

  Conners pulled his diving knife from a sheath on his ankle, grabbed some of the shroud lines in a bundle, and cut them. The chute immediately released its load of water, like a sail spilling wind, and the floating pallet righted itself.

  One of the SEALs opened a canister and removed the metal oars while Conners cut the line binding the inflatable raft and the other man popped the pin. In less than a minute, the raft filled with compressed air.

  By now they were all bobbing in the sea, whipped by wind-driven whitecaps. The men tumbled into the raft while Conners lashed the floating pallet with the gear to an aft line and climbed aboard. They stowed their tanks in the bottom and removed the fins from their feet while they continued to scan the sea for the other two men.

  There was nothing but the dark sea and the black night sky. Conners looked at his watch.

  “How long can we wait?” one of them asked.

  “We can’t,” said Conners.

  “But they’re out there somewhere.”

  “I know.”

  “They could be in trouble.”

  “I’m aware,” said Conners. He looked in the direction of the island. He could see a dim outline in the distance and hear the crash of a mild, wind-driven surf on rocks or a beach. Soon the emerging rays of dawn would silhouette the island and light up the surface of the sea.

  “If they’re behind us, we can’t get to them. If they’re between us and the island, they should be all right.” Even without the raft, Conners was confident they had come very close to the drop point. They could swim to the beach if they had to.

  They continued to scan to the east for flickering signs of the halogen shoulder lamps. But there was no sign.

  “We can’t stay here, and we can’t go searching for them.” Conners knew they would only exhaust themselves paddling against the tide, searching in the dark. When the sun came up, they would be caught out on open water. If the men on the island were as dangerous as Conners had been led to believe, three divers in an open raft would be dead meat. The rest of the team would have to find the other raft and make it on their own. The three men in this raft were now a SEAL team, and they had a mission.

  “We’ll find ‘em on the beach,” said Conners. “Now let’s paddle.”

  SAN JUAN CHANNEL

  Joselyn was bleeding from the nose, and the base of her skull had a lump the size of a goose egg. Even without touching it, she could feel it as her head bounced against something hard. She came to in the bottom of a small boat running at high speed on choppy water. Her hands were tied behind her back, her eyes covered by a cloth blindfold that did not entirely do its job. She could peek under the corners and get glimpses of the dark space into which they had jammed her body, a kind of cuddy cabin belowdecks. The pressure of the knot from the blindfold at the base of her neck caused even more pain in her head.

  Periodically she could hear male voices somewhere outside, shouting above the roar of the engine as it churned and whined through the swells.

  Joselyn had lost all sense of time. She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious. She was lying in bilge water and breathing gasoline fumes. Between the throbbing in her head and the ceaseless motion of the boat, nausea began to overtake her. Joselyn was ready to retch when suddenly the engine eased and the boat began to surf in its own wake. A couple of seconds later there was a solid thud against the hull. The boat stopped dead in the water, its only motion now caused by its own wake as it bobbed against a dock, or a larger boat. Joselyn wasn’t sure.

  “Where is she?” This time the voices came from outside the boat.

  “Down below.”

  “Bring her up to the house. We don’t have much time. Only twenty minutes before Thorn and Taggart have to leave. Thorn doesn’t want to go before he knows what’s up.”

  Joselyn heard something like a cabinet door open somewhere behind her, and suddenly the murmur of voices got louder. She went limp as if still unconscious.

  Something poked or kicked her. It felt like a foot.

  “Come on. Get up.” He poked her arm.

  She still didn’t move.

  “She’s still out. Sure you didn’t kill her?”

  “I didn’t hit her that hard.”

  “That’s fine. You can carry her.”

  Someone grabbed her around one ankle and dragged her several inches across the rough wooden bottom of the boat. Joselyn offered no resistance though the wood caused an abrasion on her arm.

  “You get her arms. I’ll take her feet.”

  “Just pick her up. She can’t weigh more than a hundred twenty pounds.” The other voice sounded exasperated.

  Suddenly Joselyn felt a strong set of arms behind her knees and across her back. She went limp in the man’s arms, and he lifted easily. She allowed her head to hang back, though the pain was intense. Her mouth was open, her eyes only partially closed under the cloth that covered them. As long as they thought she was unconscious, Joselyn sensed she was safe. They wanted her for a reason, information they thought she had; otherwise they would have dumped her body over the side out in the sound.

  Whoever was carrying her moved quickly. With her head hanging back, draped over the man’s arm, she was able to catch glimpses of light and see figures passing as she heard his footsteps move along the wooden dock.

  “They’re waiting up at the house.”

  “They’re gonna need smelling salts.” The man carrying her was talking now.

  “Maybe they got some ammonia.”

  “Look and see.”

  They started to climb stairs, stone or concrete, Joselyn wasn’t sure, but they were steep and there were a lot of them. The man began to breathe heavily. She could hear more voices now, and see lights. Under a corner of the blindfold, she caught a passing glimpse of a porch under a roof and lighted windows, lots of windows.

  Somebody got the door for them. She couldn’t see who without moving her head, but when it opened the voices got much louder. There was a lot of shouting.

  “Listen, don’t you tell me. I was the one who said we should deep-six the trawler and the fishermen with it.”

  “Yeah, right, Charlie.” Now that he was in the room, the guy carrying her was getting into it. “You were the one said he drowned the woman here. On the ferry, remember?”

  “I pushed her off. Whadda ya want?”

  “Heaviest fuckin’ ghost I ever saw.” The man carrying her was huffing and puffing.

  “I got the goddamn car.”

  “Well, shit, let�
�s call the auto club and report the crime.”

  “Listen, asshole, I suppose you coulda done better.”

  “My six-year-old niece coulda done better.”

  “Now we got the Feds crawling all over the docks, talkin’ to God knows who… ” Now other men in the room were getting into it. Joselyn couldn’t see their faces.

  “We don’t know it was the Feds.”

  “Who the hell else would it be?”

  “Where do you want me to put her?” The guy carrying Joselyn was still trying to catch his breath.

  “Put her in the bedroom at the end of the hall.”

  As he carried her down the hall, she could hear the argument continue.

  “Why didn’t they get the guy?”

  “He was out on the docks.”

  “What, you’re afraid to go out there?”

  “Damn right. Fuckin’ stuff’ll light you up like neon. You haven’t seen the fishermen coughing up their lungs, have you?”

  “Show some hair, why don’t ya.”

  “I don’t mind showing it. I just mind losing it.”

  “I told you we should have got some of those rubber suits.”

  “You and your fuckin’ rubber suits.”

  “I’m telling you we ought to get the hell off this island before the Feds show up. You can be sure they know what’s goin’ on.”

  “And how would they know that?” This time it was a different voice. Suddenly there was silence in the room down the hall, like someone had thrown water on a fire.

  “I just meant we should get off the island while we still have a chance.”

  “You sound like maybe you know something the rest of us don’t.” It was the voice that had quelled the argument. There was something strangely familiar about it. Joselyn couldn’t see his face without moving her head to look down the hall. She was playing opossum as long as she could.

  “No. I don’t know anything.”

  “You seem to be awfully worried about the federal government,” said the voice.

  “There is reason to be worried. This woman … ”

  “The woman is not with the federal government.”

  “Yeah, but the guy with her.”

  “I doubt if he’s with the federal government either.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “If the federal government thought there was a weapon of mass destruction out on that dock, do you think they would have sent one man to check it out, with a woman to stand guard at the dock?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Trust me. There would be two hundred armed troops on that dock and two dozen men in hazmat suits crawling all over every boat moored out there. What we have here is the stuff of amateurs.”

  Now there was some chuckling in the room.

  “You worry too much. You should learn to relax. You’ll live longer.”

  “Yeah, Charlie. Relax.”

  The voices receded into the background as Joselyn was carried down what seemed like a long hallway. The man wedged her body against a wall and leaned against her with his weight as he freed one hand and opened the door.

  He crossed the room and dropped her on the bed like a sack of potatoes. She fell limp and loose bouncing with the springs. She heard his footsteps recede across the room toward the door.

  “You musta fuckin’ brained her.” Another voice in the doorway. “You better hope she’s not dead. Thorn wants to talk to her.”

  “Fuck Thorn and the horse he rode in on. I’m getting a little tired taking all his crap.”

  “Well, maybe you should tell him.”

  They closed the door, and Joselyn heard the key turn in the lock. She lay still on the bed for almost a minute, listening to the voices in the other room. Every once in a while, she could make out a word or two.

  The room was dark. She could see little triangles of wallpaper and part of the ceiling through the space under the blindfold where her cheek met her nose. She lay motionless, listening for the sound of breathing to make sure she was alone in the room before she moved on the bed.

  Finally satisfied, she rolled over, hooked one leg over the edge of the bed, and with some effort sat up. By tilting her head back, she could scan the room from under the blindfold. It was a large bedroom, and whoever owned it had money. There was an adjoining bathroom and what looked like a marble floor.

  Joselyn stood up. For an instant she began to weave in circles, dizzy from the blow on the head. She steadied herself by bracing her legs against the side the bed. She slowly took a step, then another. She made her way across the bedroom, her head tilted back, peeking under the blindfold so that she didn’t run into a wall or trip over furniture.

  She stopped in the bathroom doorway. She could see a light switch, a large plastic toggle with its own light built in so you could find it in the dark. She could have hit it with her shoulder, but they might see the light under the door or through the window on the porch outside.

  Joselyn moved to the sink and turned her back. With tied hands she pulled open the top drawer. She fished around inside: a comb, a brush, something that felt like a mirror.

  She turned around and peeked down into the open drawer. Somewhere there should be a pair of scissors, anything sharp to cut the cord around her wrists. She couldn’t see well enough in the dark.

  She heard footsteps coming down the hall. Joselyn slammed the drawer shut and in five giant steps raced back to the bed throwing her body onto it and turning her head to the wall an instant before the key turned in the lock. The door opened and later the light came on.

  “Leave me alone with her.” It was all he said before the door closed.

  She waited. It seemed forever. Joselyn didn’t move, but lay as if she was unconscious on the bed. Then she heard his footsteps moving closer to the bed. She felt his weight on the mattress as he moved behind her and untied her hands. She closed her eyes tight, and he undid the knot on the blindfold and slipped it from her face. It wasn’t until he ripped the tape from her mouth that she moved.

  “You can open your eyes now.”

  That familiar voice. He knew she wasn’t unconscious. The game was up. She turned her head and squinted in the light, having difficulty focusing, and moved one hand up to shade her eyes. He appeared as a dark silhouette, the features of his face lost in shadows cast by the bright overhead light in the room.

  She rubbed her eyes. He stepped back from the bed. Joselyn fought the dumbstruck expression as it crept across her face. He was staring at her with that same smile—the arrogant grin he had left her with on the dock as he climbed into the plane.

  “You are surprised to see me?” said Belden.

  “You were … ”

  “Dead?”

  She nodded.

  “The brain accepts what the eye beholds,” said Belden.

  “But I saw the plane.”

  “I had to do something. Your government had a great many questions to which I did not have very many good answers. You can appreciate my predicament. It seemed the easiest thing was to become dead.”

  “But the plane?”

  “A simple matter of electronics, some explosives. Of course I had to wait until you reached the dock. You did take your time. For a while there, I was afraid you weren’t going to come. It wouldn’t do to have an explosion without a witness. Someone who actually saw me climb aboard, who could identify the victim for the police. Who better than my own lawyer?”

  “That’s why you hired me?”

  “No. No. You should have a higher regard for yourself than that. I came to you because you were a good lawyer. In fact you were a little too good. You were getting a bit too tenacious on behalf of some of your clients.”

  She looked at him with a puzzled expression.

  “The fishermen. We knew they were sick. What we didn’t know was whether they had information as to the source. Whether they knew about the Dancing Lady.”

  “The what?”

  “Of course,” said Belden. “You do
n’t know about that. No doubt, by now your friend out on the dock does, however. By the way, who is he?”

  “Someone who is going to get you into a great deal of trouble,” said Joselyn.

  “Oh. I am relieved. I thought perhaps he was trouble himself. No doubt, you heard our discussion in the other room.”

  She shook her head.

  “Oh yes. I forgot. You were sleeping.” He smiled at his own humor. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  She shook her head again, though she was dying of thirst.

  “There is no need for us to make this unpleasant. Some of the men outside are, shall we say, not in a good mood. They have concerns about your friend, the tall blond one on the dock. I thought perhaps you could allay their fears.”

  “No problem,” said Joselyn. “He’s with the Marines. The rest of them were busy getting their helicopters warmed up.”

  Belden gave her an expression of regret. “Is he with the government?”

  “Yes.”

  He reached across the bed and slapped her across the face.

  “No.”

  He slapped her again with the back of his hand.

  “Maybe.”

  He slapped her again, this time much harder.

  “Who is he?”

  She didn’t respond.

  Belden sat on the edge of the bed, grimaced a bit, then reached into his pants pocket and removed a handful of items that had created a bulge: keys, a folding knife, some scraps of paper, and a business card. He put these on the bedside stand.

  “These other men outside. They are not as nice as I am. You should learn to trust me.”

  “I see. They don’t draw the line at beating women.”

  “No, as a matter of fact they don’t.”

  “The last time I trusted you, you left me at the courthouse all alone talking to a federal prosecutor.”

  “Yes, well, he had all those pointed questions,” said Belden. He looked at his watch. “I would love to discuss this at length, but there really isn’t much time.”