Betrayal (33 page)

Stuart jumped onto the dock alone, making Cassi feel all the more foolish. Then insight overwhelmed shame and she understood. They had remembered the surveillance video.

She wondered if Wiley was waiting on the yacht, too racked with guilt to move, or if he was back on the mainland. Sadly enough, she would have to bet on the latter. Wiley was acting purely as a politician now. He would contract out his dirty work.

She continued hugging the hedge until Stuart jogged past, praying to the god of invisibility. Then she low-crawled to the top of the stairs and studied the yacht from above. All appeared quiet, but light was reflecting off the windshield, making it impossible for her to see if anyone was on the bridge.

Grabbing the base of the railing for support, she pulled herself over the cliff’s edge until she was dangling beneath the stairs. In that position her feet were still hanging twenty feet above unfriendly rocks, but she was out of the yacht’s view. The new vantage gave her a shot of insight. She anchored her feet and pulled the video recording from her jacket pocket. She kissed it and then wedged it into the gap between the top of the cliff and the underside of the highest stair. Now she would have leverage if they caught her. If they didn’t, she could always come back for the video. It didn’t matter if DVD’s got wet, did it?

She brushed that fear aside and began working her way down the underside of the stairs again, aware that Stuart would be returning any second. There was quite a latticework under there. Whoever built the stairs had built them to last. At the bottom she used the dock’s bracings to keep above the freezing water. The posts were six feet apart there, so twice she had to stretch her legs in a full split to reach. This left her terribly vulnerable for about five seconds each time, but it was better than getting wet in this weather. Poor Odi. She prayed that he had survived the swim—and summoned the Coast Guard.

She pulled herself up onto the cold iron dock where she was out of view from the bridge and listened. She heard nothing but water lapping the yacht’s hull and crashing against the rocks. There was no sign of Wiley but that did not mean that he wasn’t there. She wondered how much time she had left. Stuart had undoubtedly reached the security closet by now. He would be less familiar with the system than Wiley, so it would take him a minute to orient himself. He would also note that the explosion had blown out the door to the study and he might take the time to investigate. She wondered if he would note the lack of gore and realize that neither she nor Odi had hosted the blast. If he did, he would bolt for the yacht straight away. She wished she had checked her watch as he walked by. With all the adrenaline now coursing through her system, it was hard to estimate time.

She crawled toward the back of the yacht and pulled herself through the aft gate. After another short pause to listen, she crept to the companionway that led up to the bridge. She crouched there for a moment, trying to picture the contents of the cabin above. She was mentally searching for a weapon. Wiley’s binoculars leapt to mind. He had the heavy nautical kind with a thick leather strap. She tried to imagine the scene, mentally practicing her moves. She would barge through the door, grab the strap, and spin into a swing. If Wiley was there, she would knock him out before he had time to react—unless he was ready for her. If she allowed herself to be seen or heard, she would be running into the barrel of a gun.
 

Cassi took a deep breath and sprang up the stairs as quickly as a frightened cat. Bursting onto the bridge she grabbed the binoculars by the strap and began to pivot. The cabin was in fact empty. Stuart had returned alone.

She scanned the bridge for a handgun just in case. Then she checked the drawers. Nothing. A weapon would have been comforting but it was not crucial. She was about to strand Stuart on the island.

Cassi had little experience behind the wheel of a yacht, just a few playful minutes with Wiley by her side. But she was not concerned about damaging his yacht or any other, so she did not care. She studied the controls for a second to re-familiarize herself, focusing on the throttles and the wheel. Then she pushed the starter. Nothing happened. She pushed again. Zip.

Frustrated now and more than a little bit nervous, she studied the rest of the controls. She saw screens and knobs and switches with labels. She pounded the wheel and cursed the wind. Where was the bloody switch marked go?

She remembered the ship-to-shore radio and enjoyed a flash of hope. She could call for help and get instructions on how to start the bloody boat. She reached up for the mike and caught empty space. Her eyes began to tear as she stared at the socket.

She thought of everything she had been through during this last hour: Wiley’s betrayal, Odi’s Creamer, the retching, the explosion. Then she thought of Odi plowing through that freezing surf. After all that, she could not allow herself to be foiled by something as simple as the failure to find a switch.

As Cassi considered the option of flipping every switch and hitting each button, she spotted an empty chrome hub to the right of the wheel. The sight of it made her collapse into the captain’s chair. Stuart had taken the keys. “The mike and the keys,” she muttered. He was one meticulous bastard.

As she flopped backwards into the captain’s chair, Cassi heard a sharp crack coming from inches in front of her face. She snapped her head up and saw a spider’s web of cracks in the windshield. The web had a hole in the center. The agent in her recognized the hole as a .38—not that it really mattered. Stuart had returned. The angle of the sun must have changed, allowing him to see her from the top of the marina’s stairs. Obviously he had decided to fire straight off, perhaps thinking that she had a spare set of keys.

She rolled out of the chair and onto the floor as she heard another crack and saw a second spider web appear. He was definitely firing from atop the stairs. His intentions and tactics were abundantly clear. Since she did not have keys, the boat was a dead-end trap. Cassi had just one move.

She leapt down the yacht’s aft companionway in a single bound and sprinted for the stern. She pumped her arms as she ran, forcing oxygen deep into her lungs. She wanted to glance back to see if she had been spotted, to check if life-threatening bullets were about to fly, but she did not dare. Milliseconds mattered. Without hesitation or a second thought, she sprang with all her might and dove headfirst over the rail.

Chapter 61

Asgard Island, Chesapeake Bay

S
TUART
HEARD
THE
splash and knew instantly what it meant. He bounded down the remaining stairs a half-dozen at a time and ran down the dock toward the back of the yacht, arms pumping, finger wrapped around the trigger guard. Cassi was nowhere to be seen and the turgid waters told no tales. He tried to guess what direction she would swim, hoping to head her off. If he guessed wrong, she would escape onto the island. Then he would have a hunt on his hands. Hunting Cassi represented an unexpected complication, but the thought was not entirely unpleasant.

Stuart scanned the deck. He had not seen Odi on the bridge, but there was even money that he had been on the Norse Wind too. Perhaps he still was. Seeing no signs of life, Stuart returned his gaze to the churning water. He knew what he would have done in their place. He would have created a false trail. He would have thrown something heavy overboard and then hidden below deck, hoping to attack his pursuer unawares.

He spun back toward the main cabin and raised his Beretta. He saw nothing but a pair of seagulls. He waved the gun to shoo them in frustration. They ignored him. He considered shooting one to vent his rage, but only for a second. He had never let emotions get the best of him in the past. This was not the time to start.
 

As he did a quick sweep of the luxurious craft, checking all possible hiding places, he considered his predicament. Until he destroyed that recording and silenced the Carrs, everything he had spent his life pursuing would be up in the air.

So what was his best move? Stuart wondered. His thoughts returned to Odi. Was Odi with his sister, or elsewhere? Thinking about it, he decided that he had only heard one splash. The odds of their hitting the water at the exact same second were slim. Perhaps Odi had left the island the way he had come—either abandoning Cassi in anger or being unable to take her. The latter and more likely option implied that his boat was too small. In any case, Stuart had to hope that the video recording was still on Asgard. If that murder scene ever made it off the island, Stuart would lose his job, his career, and his very freedom. He had to prioritize his actions in order to prevent that from happening.

He decided to circle the island at full speed on the Norse Wind in hopes of intercepting Odi. If Odi’s craft was too small to carry Cassi, it was probably also slow. Perhaps it was even a rowboat. Oh, let it be so. Stuart realized that regardless of the craft, he had a chance of catching the seemingly indestructible agent if he hurried. And if he was wrong and Odi was still on the island, well, they would still be there when he got back.

After fishing the keys from his pants pocket with a satisfied smile, he raced to the bridge and brought the powerful engines to life. Without so much as a backward glance, he thrust the throttle into full reverse and sent the Norse Wind surging backwards into the bay. Though his piloting was careless, his search for Cassi was not. He scoured the surrounding cliffs as he backed the yacht away, hoping to see a flash of flesh or a scurry of movement between the slippery rocks. His adrenaline spiked momentarily when he thought he saw a bobbing head, but it was just a cormorant. No matter, he consoled himself. She was not going anywhere. Soon she would be a dead duck. He turned the wheel and pushed the throttle forward to full, roaring after Odi.

By the time he was halfway around the island, Stuart understood that Asgard was crescent shaped, with the marina in the center of the concave side. It faced west across the bay toward Reedville Virginia, where he had just dropped Wiley. Now that he was on the other side for the first time, Stuart saw that it was much closer to land. His spirits sank. The southern end of the Delmarva Peninsula was just a mile or so to the east. Even in a rowboat, Odi could already have made it.

Something white caught Stuart’s eye as he glanced back at Asgard. It was bobbing near the base of the cliff. Was it another bird? He asked himself. No, this was too big. He gave the eastern horizon a quick scan for other craft and then turned the yacht back in that direction. He picked up the binoculars and directed them toward the object. His heart leapt as a Jet Ski came into focus. That discovery solved the mystery of Odi’s arrival and ruled out his departure. But why were they still on the island? He wondered. The Jet Ski even had two seats. The answer came to him as he piloted the yacht in that direction. Odi must have stolen the Jet Ski when it was low on gas. Now it was out. The Carrs were stranded on the island. And more importantly, so was the video.

Just to be meticulous, Stuart put a bullet through the Jet Ski’s ignition switch and another through the gas tank. No sense in taking chances. Perhaps Cassi had been on the Norse Wind looking for gas.

He gunned the yacht’s motor and raced back toward the marina. This time he studied the island rather than the waters around. He felt like a knight preparing to siege a castle. He was just one man, but he had the only weapon, and the king and queen could not cross the moat.

As he rounded the southern tip of the island, Stuart caught sight of another vessel. When he saw that it too was making waves for the Asgard marina, he was glad that he had not wasted ammo on the seagulls. Then he saw the orange stripe and felt a tightening in his chest. The approaching craft belonged to the Coast Guard.

Stuart weighed his options. They boiled down to fight or flight. The Coast Guard vessel was smaller than the Norse Wind, but given that it was the maritime equivalent of a State Trooper, it undoubtedly had powerful engines. Flight would be his last-resort. That suited Stuart just fine. He was a fighter. He wondered how the Carrs had summoned the Coast Guard, and more importantly, what information they had conveyed. Had they been able to send a detailed message, he wondered, or just a simple SOS? Stuart knew that it was a dangerous proposition to intercept the Coast Guard without that knowledge, but he really had no other choice. His goose was cooked if they got that video. He would just have to make good use of his favorite weapon. He would have to rely on guile.

Stuart raced the Norse Wind to the midpoint between the Coast Guard and the marina and brought his motors to idle. He was about a quarter mile off shore. He knew that if the sailors were veterans, they would recognize this as a military move. To counterbalance that, he walked out onto the deck, assumed a casual stance, and waved. Body language would be the key to the next few minutes, both his and theirs.

There were only two sailors aboard the Coast Guard craft. The captain had thick white hair and a leathery face, whereas his younger mate sported red hair and freckles. Both men appeared tense. As soon as they were within earshot, Stuart started to fish. He looked at freckles and asked, “I say, are you headed for Asgard?”