Deadly Echoes (37 page)

“We're nothing alike, I can assure you. Locked up in that hellhole of a prison, I examined every second of your existence with her. It's obvious you killed her. You betrayed her, left her to be held prisoner, and then allowed her to be executed. Where were you when all of that was happening?”

“I was there, searching for her.”

“You were holed up in the most expensive hotel suite in San Jose. You never saw the brutality she no doubt suffered, and you certainly didn't see the expression on her face when they pulled the trigger. You didn't see the life slip from her eyes as she toppled over and bled on the floor.”

“And neither did you.”

“I've been where she was, in a prison with no hope. She and I are alike in that respect. You, on the other hand, have known nothing but luxury.”

Donovan could see that Garrick was getting himself worked up; he was pacing back and forth, gesturing with the heavy, forty-five-caliber pistol. “I did everything I could. I had the money, I practically had to smuggle it into the country, but I had it, and was willing to pay. I'd have given it all away to save her life.”

“That's what never made sense! You were Robert Huntington. You could do anything you wanted, and what you wanted was exactly what happened. Meredith died, and the world lost its greatest voice against industrialists like you, like John Stratton. Meredith hated you people and you killed her.” Garrick stopped pacing, stretched out his arm, and placed the muzzle of the pistol to William's temple. “I'm going to show you how it feels to be helpless, for you to actually witness the pain of a loved one's last moment alive.”

“We've lost power!” Janie said as she battled the crippled helicopter.

“We have to make it to the ship!” Lauren yelled, terrified as the helicopter pivoted three hundred sixty degrees as it plunged downward. She saw water, sky, and then steel. If they ditched, it would put them directly in the path of the huge wave they'd created.

Janie used what little control she had and arrested their free fall only seconds before they hit the deck. The landing skids of the Bell crumpled from the force of the impact and absorbed much of the energy. The main rotor blades buckled and sliced into the deck, instantly exploding into pieces of deadly shrapnel. The fuselage whipped around, and Lauren saw they were hurtling toward the towering six-story-high superstructure of the
North Star.
As the steel wall filled the shattered windscreen, the battered body of the helicopter made one last partial rotation. The tail boom hit first. The passenger compartment slammed into the crumpled boom, tipped on its side, and came to a rest.

Hanging by her harness, Lauren was enveloped by the unmistakable smell of fuel. At first she thought they'd ripped a hole in the deck of the tanker until drops of jet fuel began to drip from above.

“Get out!” Buck yelled, dropping to the deck, then turning and ripping open the door next to Lauren. “Everyone out! Now!”

Lauren released her straps and fell into Buck's waiting arms. He quickly placed her on her feet and then repeated the process with Janie. Lauren could see blood on Janie's forehead, her eyes
were closed, and she was cradling what was clearly a dislocated elbow. Then she heard the whoosh of the fuel igniting.

“We have to go up!” Lauren could see enough of the ocean to realized that the sea was pulling back from the reef; the wave was almost on them. With Buck carrying Janie, the three of them escaped the heat from the fire and found the first flight of stairs. Lauren led the way, taking the steps two at a time. She reached the first landing, turned, and tried to make it to the hatch that would allow them to reach safety inside the ship. She moved three steps before the rising heat from the furiously burning helicopter drove her backward.

“Go to the next level!” Buck urged.

When Lauren turned toward the bow of the
North Star,
she saw that the underwater shockwave had reached shallow water. The wave was beginning to build as the surge slowed, the water behind had nowhere to go but up. The water was already higher than the deck and growing. She felt the ship began to rise as tons of water surged beneath the hull. The bow rode up to meet the surge and then vanished under the onslaught of the monstrous wave. Lauren fought the urge to scream. The wall of water was going to strip them off the ship like insects.

Nikolett's head snapped backward and a plume of bloody mist exploded from her shattered skull. Garrick flinched, his lack of peripheral vision forcing him to turn toward Nikolett as she collapsed. Garrick pivoted toward the door, raised his pistol, and fired two shots at a figure in the hallway. Without hesitation, Donovan lunged forward toward Garrick as the sound of the gunshots filled the room. Garrick spun back toward William and pressed the barrel of his pistol to William's temple. Donovan managed to reach out and slapped his hand on top of Garrick's forty-five just as Garrick pulled the trigger. The flesh between Donovan's thumb and forefinger pinched beneath the hammer, stopping it from striking the firing pin. Donovan crashed into Garrick as both men fought for control of the gun. With one hand still attached to the gun, Donovan used his free hand to hit Garrick as hard as he could in the face. Fresh blood spewed from Garrick's nose and mouth. He punched Garrick in the face twice more, but Garrick rolled away, and in the process the pistol ripped a chunk of flesh from Donovan's hand. Garrick fumbled to clear the hammer, and Donovan turned and dove toward Nikolett. He reached her corpse as Garrick aimed through bloody and swollen eyes and fired wide. Donovan picked up Nikolett's pistol, pointed it at Garrick, and pulled the trigger. The pistol bucked in his hand, and Donovan watched as a bloody hole formed in the center of Garrick's chest. Donovan kept firing until Garrick sank to the floor and his newly repaired eyes went sightless.

Leading with his gun, he kicked the forty-five out of Garrick's
dead hand, stepped over Garrick's body, and went to the doorway. There was a figure lying on the floor.

Donovan sank to his knees and brushed the blond hair away from Erica's face. He saw an entry wound in her abdomen, the blood pooling beneath her. “Stay with me, Erica, don't leave me.”

Erica moved her lips, and Donovan leaned down to listen. Her words hardly more than a whisper.

“I couldn't find you. Our promise to each other—finish job. Remember?”

“I remember,” Donovan said as his eyes welled up with tears.

“Are they dead?”

“Yes, you saved us.” Donovan found her hand and clutched it with his own, remembering her solemn promise that if something happened to him, she'd kill Nikolett and Garrick.

She winced as if in pain as she struggled to speak. “Are you really him?”

“Yes.”

“You changed. I like you,” Erica said, her voice fading as her breathing became more labored. “My bag—strap, files. Neptune Trident. In German.”

Donovan heard her last breath slowly escape, her grip on his hand faded and then there was nothing but silence. His eyes filled with tears as he gently checked her motionless pupils and felt for a pulse that he knew wasn't there. He closed her eyelids, leaned down, and kissed her for the last time. He had no idea how she'd gotten from the hospital in Anchorage to this hallway, but he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude mixed with a depth of loss that he couldn't begin to absorb. He wiped away his tears. She'd given him the password for the files. Her last act had been to give him the information he might need to protect himself. An open sob escaped from deep inside and he shook his head against the unbelievable anguish. He sat with her, collecting himself, then finally found the strength to get up and go to William.

Donovan removed the duct tape they'd used to secure his
hands, then took him in his arms to steady his old friend. He rubbed William's wrists to get the circulation to return and tried to judge William's condition.

“I'll be all right,” William said, his voice shaky. “Who's in the doorway? Who shot Nikolett?”

“Erica,” Donovan said. “She's dead.”

William's head sunk at the news. “Garrick arrived only moments after her warning. I was able to call Stephanie and Abigail. Are they safe?”

“As far as I know. You need an ambulance. How bad did they hurt you?” Donovan remembered the burns on Erica's skin, proof of the violence Garrick and Nikolett could inflict.

“I'm fine,” William managed to stand, still massaging his wrists. “We have work to do and we need to make sure we have our stories straight before we call the police.”

“I agree.” Donovan was thankful that William was up and thinking.

“First and foremost, we tell the police we don't know who these people are. For the rest of the story, we can pretty much stick with the truth. This guy had some kind of vendetta. If we let the facts speak for themselves, they should steer the police toward the connection between John's investments in the Brazilian plant that ended up blinding Garrick. The authorities need to believe that John was Garrick's target. Since Eco-Watch was also important to John, it became another target, as did I. From there I think the investigation will go in the direction we want it to go. Garrick's computer and briefcase are over there. They also have a car in the garage. We need to search it and make sure there's nothing that ties to Robert Huntington. We'll stash everything we find in John's safe and dispose of it later.”

“William, you take care of Garrick's things in here. Garrick mentioned a jump drive, see if you can find one. I'll go check out their car. Once we're finished, we'll call 911. Then I have another call to make.”

“Who?” William asked.

“Amanda Sullivan.” Donovan pulled her business card from his pocket.

“The reporter? Why do you have her card?”

“I already gave her an interview. Now I'm giving her the final installment. The world needs to see what happened here.”

Donovan found Garrick's rental car, and careful not to leave any fingerprints, he removed two pieces of luggage from the trunk and thoroughly searched them both. He found nothing of consequence. Confident that any of the incriminating evidence against him was in Garrick's briefcase and laptop, he replaced both items and rejoined William in the den.

“Everything is locked in the safe,” William announced upon Donovan's return. “I found a jump drive in Garrick's pocket. I think we're good. It's time to call the police.”

“Do it.” Donovan nodded, walked away, and dialed Amanda's direct number.

“Mr. Nash,” Amanda said as she answered her phone, “I didn't expect to hear from you so soon.”

“I'm offering you another exclusive interview.”

“I'm listening.”

“The two people responsible for all of the eco-atrocities are dead. I also found Erica. Are you interested?”

“Where are you? And how much is this going to cost me?”

“Nothing. The same terms as before, an old-fashioned pencil-and-paper interview.”

“With Erica as well as you?”

“Erica's dead.”

“Can I have exclusive use of the additional footage being taken from your airplane in Alaska?”

“You already have it.”

“I'm talking about the footage being shot right now.”

“What footage?” Donovan asked.

“They're getting ready to try and refloat the tanker. Do we have a deal?”

“Yes, we're at the Stratton estate in Laguna Beach.”

“Mr. Nash, I'm on my way—and you need to turn on a television.”

Donovan grabbed the remote control, found CNN, and took a moment to orient himself. The grainy picture was the
North Star,
no doubt taken from a long lens mounted on a helicopter circling miles away. The image shook slightly due to the distance, but it was clear enough to see what was happening. The Eco-Watch helicopter was circling overhead. The view jumped to the glacier where plumes of snow and ice were flung into the sky. Moments later came the sound of an unseen explosion.

“What was that?” William asked.

“They just blew the glacier. Lauren came up with the idea to create a tsunami to free the tanker. I had no idea they'd do it so quickly.”

“What's happening?” William asked. “It looks like there's something wrong with the helicopter.”

“Oh, no,” Donovan whispered. The helicopter began flying erratically, twisting and descending. Shocked, he could only watch as the Bell 407 lost altitude and crash landed on the deck of the ship where it skidded and spun until it buckled and crashed into the
North Star's
superstructure. From that distance he couldn't see much more than exploding rotor blades and parts flung from the twisted wreckage. The thick black smoke twisted upward, leaving no doubt that it was on fire.

“Oh, dear God!” William said. “The wave.”

A mountain of water had begun to build in front of the ship. Donovan remembered Lauren's estimates that the wave would be around fifty feet high. The one that had formed was twice that, and as it topped out, it curled over and completely enveloped the
North Star.
When the wave crashed downward it exploded, sending millions of tons of seawater into the sky.

Donovan held his breath as both tugs and the tanker vanished beneath a mountain of water. He felt that he was being crushed, that he couldn't breathe. In his mind, Janie, and whoever was in the helicopter had just perished, and the only people he could
imagine onboard would be Lauren and Buck. Donovan felt mortally wounded. His legs went weak and he staggered backward. William guided him to a chair. He was numb, in shock, he didn't know what to feel or think. Erica was dead, and now all that registered was the immeasurable fear that he'd just watched his wife die as well.

“Lauren!” Buck yelled above the roar of the wave as it raced toward them, completely engulfing the front half of ship as it did.