“What’s the status on the supplies?” Lara asked Hart.
“About sixty percent are already onboard the Trident,” Hart said.
“The essentials first?”
“Just like you said.”
“Then that’s going to have to be enough.”
“You mean leave the rest behind?”
She nodded.
“That’s too much to abandon,” Riley said behind her. “We might need everything we can get when we reach the Bengal Islands.”
“I’m thinking about your people, Riley,” Lara said. “There’s a lot of space between the storage area and the top deck. A lot of rooms and doors and corners. Right now we don’t know if Ezekiel and Lang plan on doing anything. If they even have just one gun between them…”
Riley shook his head. He clearly didn’t like it, but he said anyway, “You’re right. It’s not worth risking one more man to this war.” Then to Hart, “We’ll leave the rest behind, like she said.”
“You’re going to have to help him topside,” Lara said to Hart.
Hart nodded and glanced back at two men in black tactical gear, weapons out, standing guard behind the open sickbay door. “Phil, give me a hand.”
One of the men turned around and stepped inside.
Hart walked over to Riley. “It’s going to hurt.”
Riley gritted his teeth. “I’ll try to keep the crying to a minimum.”
Hart chuckled, then with Phil, they flanked Riley and helped him up to his feet. Riley’s face turned red almost right away with the strain.
“We’ll have to move slow,” Lara said. “And give me that,” she added, reaching for Hart’s rifle.
“I’d ask if you knew how to use one, but that would be a stupid question, wouldn’t it?” Hart said.
She gave him a wry look.
“What about the prisoners in the brig below us?” Hart asked. “We never talked about what we were going to do with them.”
“They’re Lang and Ezekiel’s problem now,” Lara said.
Hart and Riley exchanged a look, but neither one protested.
She walked on ahead of them, stepped outside in the hallway, and stopped next to the remaining sentry. “What’s your name?”
“Jolly, ma’am,” the man (boy) said. He may or may not have been out of his teens—and if he was, then it was just barely—though he was at least a foot taller than her and big around the chest and shoulders.
“Jolly?” she smiled.
“It’s a nickname, ma’am,” Jolly said, and actually blushed.
“I’m Lara.”
“I know, ma’am.”
“You can stop calling me ma’am. I’m not that old.”
“Sorry, ma—Lara.”
“Better,” she said, then nodded up the hallway. “We’re going to lead them upside and to the boat, okay, Jolly?”
“Gotcha, Lara.”
“Good,” she said. “Let’s go.”
“They might have called for help. Given us away,” Riley had said.
Lara thought it was a pretty good bet the missing crewmen had done exactly both those things. Why else would they go through the effort of using the comm room? They would know it was empty, with Terry and the others already onboard the Trident.
So the question was: Who did they call for help and give Riley’s plans away to?
The only thing that kept her from panicking even just a little was the knowledge that they weren’t going to be here to wait and find out. She felt a flush of pride at having convinced Hart to start moving his people over to the Trident sooner than he had expected. Not that Hart had really put up much resistance. She hated to admit it, but the older man was somewhat of a pushover.
They made it to the top platform without any problems, even though Lara kept expecting Ezekiel and Lang to pop out from behind every corner they approached. Judging by his awkward steps and bunched shoulders, so did Jolly, who seemed to be alternating between moving beside her and just slightly ahead of her. The young man was, she realized after a while, purposefully making sure he was always first to reach the potentially dangerous points so she wouldn’t have to.
Who says chivalry is dead? she thought, smiling to herself.
They made slow but steady progress, with Hart and Phil trailing behind with Riley between them. She didn’t rush them because they could afford to take their time. Sunup was still far off, and Faith was waiting on the docks below. Two more men were standing guard when they emerged out of the submarine door at the top of the entrance, and the suddenly bigger party moved through the windy top deck.
As well as things were going, Lara kept waiting for the gunshots that never came. Wherever Ezekiel and Lang had escaped to, all signs were pointing to the two men being determined not to reveal themselves. Which was fine with her, and frankly, more than she could have hoped for.
Glancing to her left off the platform, she could see the lights of the Trident standing out against the suffocating blackness of the ocean, still maintaining its safe distance from them.
Lara unclipped her radio and keyed it. “Maddie, we’re on our way now.”
“Roger that,” Maddie answered. “Any trouble?”
“So far, so good. We’ll see you soon.”
“Sarah’s keeping a pot of coffee hot for you.”
“You guys have coffee?” Jolly asked as they rounded a hulking piece of machinery that had conduits sticking out of its sides. Predictably, Jolly had casually hurried ahead before falling back beside her when they were safely around it.
She fought back a smile and said, “Don’t you?”
“No, ma’am. I mean, Lara.”
“The place we were at before had boxes of them. We had to leave most of it behind when we left, but fortunately we brought enough to last for a while.”
“I’d love some coffee. Black. How do you take yours?”
“Same.”
“Awesome,” Jolly said.
Awesome? Lara thought, not quite sure if she was amused because Jolly was so easily impressed or because he sounded very much like a crushing teenage boy. He reminded her a bit of how Benny was around Gaby, though taller and less awkward.
A radio squawked behind her and she heard Hart’s voice. “Status.”
“You guys are in the clear,” a male voice answered through Hart’s radio. “No one’s followed you outside.”
“All right. Chain the door and catch up to us.”
“On our way,” the voice said.
It was another “just in case” plan, though this time Riley had come up with it. If Ezekiel and Lang were indeed hiding below deck, chain-locking the main entrance would keep them pinned inside so they couldn’t come out to freely take potshots at them or the Trident. The last thing she needed right now was someone armed with a grenade launcher lobbing rounds at the yacht. It was a small chance, but she’d rather it be zero instead.
By the time Riley’s other two men caught up to them, they were already moving down the stairs at the edge of the platform. Yet another one of Riley’s men stood below them, waiting with a flashlight.
“Lara?” Jolly said as they went down.
“Yes?” she said.
“Don’t take this the wrong way…”
Oh God, I already don’t like where this is going.
“But I just wanted to say it’s cool finally meeting you,” Jolly said.
Okay, not so bad, she thought, and said, “Likewise, Jolly.”
“Anyways,” the young man continued, “I thought you might get a kick out of knowing that me and some of the other guys carry around iPods with your messages on them.”
“Oh yeah?” she said, fighting back the cringe from showing on her face.
“It’s just the same two broadcasts you put out,” Jolly said. “But—and again, don’t take this the wrong way—but sometimes I pretend you’re saying something else.”
Oh God, someone shoot me now.
“Nothing bad,” Jolly quickly added. “Just stuff l
ike the weather and traffic reports.”
She was so relieved that she didn’t even try to fight back the short laugh. “Traffic reports?”
He grinned, pearly white teeth showing, but if he was slightly embarrassed or blushing again, she couldn’t tell in the semidarkness of the stairs. “You know, like you were doing the newscast? Just to give some variety to the messages and all. Nothing perverted or anything. I hope that’s okay.”
“That’s fine, Jolly,” she said, and made an effort to smile at him.
“Thanks,” he said, before quickly hurrying down the stairs ahead of her just before another turn came up.
“Told you,” Riley said behind her. He wasn’t even trying to suppress a chuckle. “The Lara.”
“Shut up, Riley,” she said.
They loaded Riley onboard Faith’s boat first, settling him down on the front bench, then climbed in after him. Faith powered up the engine and maneuvered them into the water, Riley’s people at the stern standing guard with weapons ready and eyes watching the Ocean Star for signs of Ezekiel and Lang.
But neither man showed up, and before long Faith made another turn and they were on an intercept course with the Trident.
When they had put enough space between them and the oil rig, Lara sat down on the bench next to Riley while Hart and the others remained standing around them. She looked back one last time at the lights blinking on the edges of the massive platform as it began succumbing to the blackness.
“How long will the lights last?” she asked.
“Until the generators run out of fuel,” Riley said. “A day, tops.”
“Communications?”
“Nothing runs without diesel, and we’re taking most of that with us.”
He was referring to the refueling ship, which at the moment was anchored on the other side of the Trident. They would bring the second vessel with them as insurance. It was going to slow them down, but speed wasn’t going to be an issue once they cleared the area, regardless of what Mercer did in response to Riley’s mutiny tomorrow. She didn’t think they would need the old boat anytime soon, but the Bengal Islands were a long way off and they had a detour or two ahead of them.
“Who do you think they radioed?” she asked.
“The comm room can reach anyone, including Black Tide,” Riley said. “If I were them, that’s where I’d direct everything. Texas right now is too unpredictable, and they probably knew they wouldn’t get much assistance from there.”
“If that’s true, then Mercer already knows about the mutiny.”
Riley nodded but didn’t say anything.
“I asked before what he would do when he found out,” Lara said. “Did you come up with an answer yet?”
“I don’t know what he’ll do,” Riley said. “I really don’t.”
“Maybe he won’t get the chance to do anything,” Hart said. He was standing next to them, one hand on the railing to steady himself as they moved across the slightly bumpy water. “If Keo gets the job done, I mean.”
She nodded, though she didn’t really like to think about Keo succeeding, because it meant he wasn’t coming back. She remembered watching him leaving with Erin and thinking that she was never going to see him again.
“Who’s Keo?” Riley asked.
Lara told him about Keo and him leaving with Erin.
“Are you surprised she’s helping him?” Lara asked him.
There was almost a ghost of a smile on his lips when he said, “Not at all.”
“What do you think?” Hart asked.
“About what?” Riley said.
“He means Keo killing Mercer,” Lara said. “Is that going to stop the war?”
Riley took a moment to think about it. She couldn’t tell if it was such a foreign concept that he was having trouble grasping the question or if he really was running through all the scenarios before answering.
“Maybe,” he finally said. “There are a lot of people who’ll throw down their guns, but there’s also a lot who won’t.”
“What about Rhett?” Hart asked.
“I think he’ll argue for stopping the bombings, definitely. Bellamy, Jerkins, and Taylor might feel differently.”
“But there is a chance,” Lara said.
He nodded. “If your friend can kill Mercer, then yes, there’s a chance.” He looked over at her. “Can he do it?”
“Keo’s very good.”
“But can he do it?”
“Yes,” she said. “If anyone can do it, it’s Keo.”
Even if it kills him, she thought, but didn’t say that part out loud.
25
Keo
He didn’t know if he should be pleased, disturbed, or slightly annoyed at how easy it was to move around the main building. As with the beach, there weren’t nearly enough people left behind on the island to post on every corner or watch every hallway, and accessing the facility was a simple matter of checking in at the guard station, where Erin did most of the talking; she was, after all, one of Mercer’s easily recognized lieutenants, and that came with a lot of respect.
Once Keo separated from Erin on their way to the communal living quarters for the non-married people, he simply followed the numbers on the walls, which also happened to have helpful arrows pointing the way toward his destination. There wasn’t a single soul in sight to question, much less stop him. There wasn’t even an occasional soldier for him to worry about getting past; everyone who wasn’t sound asleep was already outside standing guard.
“Technically he should be sleeping in the communal area because he’s single, but I guess even he couldn’t bring himself to justify that,” Erin had said before they went their separate ways. “It’s part of the role he’s playing. I recognize that now.”
“The Everyman,” Keo had said.
“Yes.”
“What about guards?”
“What you see is what you get. The rest will be coming back later today or the days after. Like you said, you’ll have to get it done before the sun comes up or it’s going to get a hell of a lot harder.”
“No pressure.”
“I’m serious, Keo,” she had said, stopping at a door marked Quarters and fixing him with a hard stare that was meant to deliver just how serious she was. Then, lowering her voice slightly to an almost whisper, “You were right to come here now, in the middle of the night. Everyone is either asleep or dead on their feet. What did you call it?”
“The hour of the wolf.”
She snapped a quick look past him and up the hallway. “Sooner or later, someone’s going to ask who you are. Mercer’s going to want an after-action report, and I’m going to have to explain what happened to Troy and the others. You understand?”
“Relax,” Keo had said. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”
“We have to stop him, Keo. I should have done it months ago when I had the chance, but I didn’t. That’s on me, and I’m going to have to live with the consequences for the rest of my life. So please, stop him. Do what I and Riley and everyone else couldn’t bring ourselves to do. End this.”
Keo had nodded. “I will.”
He was thinking of Jordan bleeding to death in his arms when he finally located the room he had been looking for, in the exact part of the building where Erin had told him he’d find it. There were no guards posted outside, or anywhere in this or the previous three hallways he had walked through, and when Keo tried the lever, it moved without resistance.
Too easy. Way too easy.
He put his hand on the Sig Sauer P250 and looked left, then right, then left again. He stood perfectly still and listened for sounds of running feet, shouting voices, and safeties being clicked off. Some indication that his trip from the singles living quarters to Mercer’s room had not gone completely unnoticed.
But there was nothing.
There would be dead silence if not for the hum of lights above him and the vibrations from generators in the background. No one was coming, rushing around the corners, or c
onverging on his position so he couldn’t enter this room and take the life of the man on the other side.
Way, way too easy.
It had to be a trick. Maybe Erin had gotten some of the details wrong, or gotten the hallways mixed up. After all, except for the numbers marking each door, they all looked the same in the last four hallways he had walked down.
“Are you sure?” he had asked her.
“506,” she had said for the second time.
“What if he moved?”
“He wouldn’t.”
“What if he did?”
“Why would he? He’s been in that room since we got to the island. He was there when we left for the mainland, and he’ll be there after returning.”
He was staring at the number now.
It had to be a trick, because this was too easy. It was just too goddamn easy.
He sighed, thought, Fuck it, and pushed the door open and slipped inside, palming and drawing the Sig in one smooth motion as he did so.
Once inside, he stood perfectly still, mostly because he couldn’t see a damn thing. After moving around in the brightly lit corridors the last five minutes, it took Keo a while for his eyes to adjust to near darkness. When he could finally make out gray floors, walls, and the shape of a small (much too small for someone of his position) cot at the back of the room, Keo searched out and found the light switch on the wall behind him and flicked it into the on position.
In the second or two after the light bulb buzzed to life, Keo glimpsed the room’s Spartan design in a glance.
It was essentially a big concrete box—nothing fancy or very big, but perfect for a grunt who needed a place—any place—to rest. There was nothing comfortable about it, but he’d been in worse places during jobs. Besides the cot at the far side, there was a flimsy-looking nightstand in the corner to his right with a canteen and a two-way radio sitting on top of it. A complete wardrobe was folded over the back of a wooden chair at the foot of the bed, with a pair of polished boots next to it. There was a closet carved out of the wall with just enough space for a dozen or so articles of clothing to dangle from hangers. A gun belt hung from a hook next to the bed with a pistol in the holster, but there wasn’t a rifle anywhere in the room that he could see.
The Purge of Babylon Series Box Set, Vol. 3 | Books 7-9 Page 69