Betrayal (34 page)

Freckles responded without deferring to rank, much to Stuart’s relief. He said, “Yes. We got a call.”

Stuart had hoped for more information than that. We got a call was a little too vague. He would have to reply in kind. “I’m glad the call got through. Our radio died.”

“Was it you who called?”

That was better, Stuart thought. “I’m Stuart, Director Proffitt’s Personal Aide. We thought we were stranded but as you can see we’ve got the yacht running.”

“I recognize the Norse Wind. It’s one of the finest on the Bay,” the captain said. “Would you mind if we had a look?”
 

The captain had a friendly expression on his face, but Stuart read business in his eyes. These guys would want to tread lightly with someone as powerful as Wiley, but their trepidation would only get Stuart so far. He knew it would be a mistake not to indulge them. He could always shoot the sailors in a pinch, he figured, but only as a last resort. They would be missed with the first unanswered call, and then the heat would really be on. “Sure, you’re welcome aboard.”

No sooner had he spoken the words than Stuart remembered the bullet holes in the windshield on the upper bridge. If the Coast Guard saw them, the gig was up. He would have no choice but to shoot them then. He had to try to keep them away from that part of the yacht.

The two sailors conferred and then the captain climbed aboard. Stuart cursed in silence. Killing them had just become twice as difficult. “It’s important that one of us stay with the radio,” the captain said, inclining his head toward Freckles.

Stuart extended his arm in a sweeping gesture. “Please, enjoy yourself. She’s a beaut.”

He sat on the stairs to the upper bridge such that the captain would have to ask him to move if he wanted to ascend. He tried to look relaxed as he waited for the captain to complete the fifty-cent tour and chatted idly with Freckles. It took the captain less than two minutes although it seemed like forever. As he approached, Stuart wondered if it would be better to offer to show the captain the upper bridge if he liked, or if he should wait for the captain to ask. When the captain returned, Stuart tried to read his expression, but got nowhere. The salty old dog kept his features neutral. After a moment of awkward silence, the captain placed his hands on his hips, sighed and said, “This is exactly how I’d like to retire.”

Stuart returned a genuine smile. The captain was not eyeing the top of the stairs. “I hear you. Say, I’m sorry if we caused you any trouble. Given Mr. Proffitt’s job, we’re sometimes quick to panic.”

“Say, where is Walter? He on the mainland, or the island?”

“You mean Wiley, I assume. I just dropped him on the mainland.”

The Captain relaxed with that response. “So what caused your problem? Did you figure it out?”

“Sure did. A battery cable worked its way loose. We routinely disconnect it whenever we know that we won’t be taking her out for more than two weeks. Last time we must not have reattached it tightly enough.”

The captain nodded. Apparently he had come across that before. “Please give the Governor Captain Latimor’s best.”

Stuart inclined his head.

He did not relax until the Coast Guard boat grew small on the horizon. Then he checked the magazine of his gun, found it nearly full, and smiled. He had more than enough ammunition to wreck a couple of Carrs.

Chapter 62

Crisfield, Maryland

C
ROUCHED
BEHIND
THE
rear passenger tire of a shiny blue Buick, Odi had to struggle to keep his teeth from chattering as he watched his mark lock the front door of his house. The rotund middle-aged man carried a travel mug of coffee with a muffin balanced on top in one hand and a generic black briefcase in the other. He shuffled unenthusiastically, and the vacuous look of routine was readily apparent in his eyes. Eight o’clock in the morning and the poor soul was already bored. Odi was about to change that.

The man unlocked his Buick with a remote and hopped into the driver’s seat. He placed the travel mug in its holder, lay the briefcase on the passenger seat, and set the muffin on top. Blueberry. Odi slid into the back seat as the man reached out to close his door.

The man jumped at the sound of Odi’s door closing as though a rattrap had clamped on his ass. He let out a startled cry.

“Good morning,” Odi said, trying to sound friendly. “Where are you going?”

“Who the hell are you?”

Odi changed his tone sharply. “I’m the man with a gun to your back. That was your last question. Understand?”

The man turned to face forward and nodded.

“Now,” Odi continued, “what is your name?”

“Les.”

“Okay, Les, let’s drive to work.”

“You want to go to my office?”

“No questions,” Odi said, pushing his fingers deeper into the upholstered back of the seat. “No noise. Just drive.”

The man reversed down his driveway and turned the Buick north.

“Where is your office?”

“Laurel.”

“Is that on the way to the Big Apple?”

Les hesitated, then let out a weak, “Yes.”

“The fastest way?”

“Yes.”

“How far is Laurel from here?”

“About an hour.”

“And New York City?”

“Four to six hours, depending on traffic.”

Odi nodded to himself. “Do me a favor, Les, and turn the heater on full. I caught a bit of a chill swimming into town.”

Les complied without comment. He was a quick learner.

Odi watched the street signs in silence as Les followed his routine. A few miles down Highway 13 they passed a sign that said Laurel 29 miles.

“I need your cell phone,” Odi said.

Les hesitated for a second, and then he reached into his breast pocket and produced an iPhone.

Odi accepted it and said, “I’m going to let you off at your office. Afraid I’ll be needing your car from there. Meanwhile, I don’t suppose you happen to know the number for the Coast Guard?”

Chapter 63

Asgard Island, Chesapeake Bay

C
ASSI
FELT
A
sense of dread as she watched the Coast Guard ship head for the western horizon. She cursed herself. She might have been able to signal it if she had been just a few seconds faster.
 

After pulling herself from the freezing water and watching Stuart race off in the Norse Wind, she had run straight for the house and a hot shower. She had indulged herself for too long, soaking the cold and tension away under the hot shower while the Coast Guard approached and then departed. Now she was trapped in another nightmare—with Stuart.
 

The Norse Wind was still out there, idling in the bay. Cassi watched it as she contemplated her predicament. She had expected this to be the worst day of her life, knowing that she would be arresting her brother. As it turned out, that was only the beginning, the opening course, the appetizer. Since then she had also been betrayed by her lover, imprisoned in a panic room, forced to swallow a bomb, left to explode, had her stomach pumped, dangled off a cliff, and dodged bullets. Then she had nearly frozen to death while swimming for her life while under fire amidst jagged rocks. And it wasn’t even noon. If only she had shown Odi a little more faith, everything might be different.

As horrible as all of today’s experiences had been, and regardless of the fact that each would haunt her for the rest of her life, Cassi knew that they were all about to fade to insignificance. She was currently empowered to prevent the next 9/11. She had information that would save thousands of lives. And she was helpless to deliver it.

Any fantasy of trying to swim to shore without a wetsuit had vanished the moment she plunged into the Chesapeake’s frigid waters. She had survived the five minutes it took to evade Stuart, but hypothermia would surely suck the life from her bones long before she made it to the nearest shore.

The Norse Wind taunted her, scoffed at her, winked. It was only a quarter mile away out there in the bay, but it might as well be on Mars. She could never reach it. Could she? Could she survive a quarter mile swim in that water? Could she then climb stealthily aboard the yacht and overpower Stuart, an armed man, despite her hypothermic state? She estimated that the odds were a thousand-to-one against her. In fact, she reasoned, that was probably why Stuart was idling there. Flushing her out was exactly what he wanted to do. But despite all that what choice did she have? She could not sit there safe but mute while twenty-four planes were bombed out of the sky. She would never forgive herself. She would rather die trying.

“She would rather die trying,” Cassi repeated out loud. It was so commonplace to utter those words. Did she have the courage to live them?

The Norse Wind roared to life as she pondered that thought, sparing her the opportunity to test her mettle. Her flash of relief vanished as quickly as it appeared, however, when Stuart turned the bow toward the marina. The sight filled her with an odd mixture of hope and dread. She was going to get the chance to save the twenty-four planes. All she had to do was get the keys away from Stuart—before he shot her dead.

Chapter 64

The SS Queen Mary 2

A
YDEN
LEAPT
BACK
from the suite’s peephole as though it was trying to bite him. He could not believe his eyes. From a distance he had found the tall silhouette and confident walk familiar. Now that the man was closer, Ayden could verify the face. Despite the glasses and slicked-back hair there could be no mistake. Odi Carr was walking down the corridor—directly toward his suite.

How did he get free? How did he find me? What is he planning to do? The questions came to Ayden easily. The answers did not. He had no time for interrogatory now anyway. He had to act.
 

He backed into the bathroom, a champagne bottle clenched in his white-knuckled hand. He tried to think. He had been planning to whack the steward over the head with the bottle when the steward brought the Marshalls their meal. Could he do the same to Odi? He did not see how. He would have lured the steward into his neighboring suite with a desperate plea—then replaced cream with Creamer and delivered the Marshalls’ order himself—but he had no chance of catching Odi with such a simple ruse.

Ayden looked down at his hand, noting that it was beginning to sweat. While the hefty champagne bottle would have been fine for a surprise attack on an unsuspecting steward, it was a pathetic weapon against a primed combat veteran like Odi Carr. But what choice did he have? Odi had come to him. Think, Ayden. Think! What would Arvin do? He asked himself. The answer came as though God were whispering in his ear.

Ayden ripped the do-not-disturb sign from the door handle and slid it between the doorframe and the lock, disabling the latch. Satisfied that the door would now swing open beneath a firm knock, he grabbed the extra polyester blanket from the closet. He folded it in half and placed it on the parquet floor like a rug, a very slippery rug. It would not look right if studied, but Odi was hardly going to be paying much attention to the suite’s furnishings as he burst into the room. Ayden would sweep the rug out from under Odi before he realized that he was standing on slippery ground, and then he would give him the good news with the bottle.