Off Course (11 page)

Through half-shut eyes, Collin watched his new guard across the cabin. This was the long-haired one he’d only seen once before. Long Hair paid Collin little attention since Tog’s death. The constant jostling of the ship kept him looking pensive and uneasy. With one hand, Long Hair held his semi-automatic Uzi. The other hand braced the bulkhead. As the sea grew rougher, Long Hair’s attention to Collin grew lighter. The man looked out the small windows above the galley or behind him, shaking his head periodically.

Collin knew there was an opportunity opening up. He just didn’t know how to take advantage of it in his weakened and battered state. The failure of his previous attempt and its repercussions lingered, but didn’t deter him from trying again. Forcing himself to concentrate, he closed his eyes and tried to reformulate his earlier plan, then add to it. Putting thoughts together and keeping them from straying toward his need for water proved even more difficult than he had expected. His ability to move was restricted. His coordination, balance, and strength were impaired even more so than before. Everything that could be used as a tool or a weapon was out of reach because his hands were tied behind him.

The planning effort was exhausting. There were so many ifs and contingencies to consider. Plus, the potential for additional violence against him loomed in his mind. Within minutes, Collin’s strength gave out and he closed his eyes in defeat. There were four gunmen. He could only see one, but he felt another one was somewhere below-decks, either asleep or standing guard. Collin realized that even if he could close the distance between himself and Long Hair fast enough to catch him off-guard while keeping his balance, the only thing he would be able to do is kick him. Could he kick him hard enough and in the right place to incapacitate him? Even if he could, chances are the other guard would once again beat him senseless. What then? In his current state, this was the best plan he could come up with and it was doomed to fail.

Collin’s eyes closed and his head sank into the mattress. The boat was being buffeted by wind and waves, rocking him vigorously from side to side as he tried to lay still and think. The movement caused the tight plastic band around his wrists to cut deeper into the worn skin, drawing fresh blood. He tried to steady himself by pushing his legs into the bulkhead at the end of the bed, but that did little to prevent his upper body from rolling back and forth.

The storm he had heard referenced by the Captain had arrived. Looking around, Collin realized he and Long Hair were alone. Everyone else had escaped topside for fresh air. Collin’s legs shook and his head rolled from side to side with nervous energy. This restlessness came from the claustrophobia. He had been trapped below deck for more than thirty-six hours and the confinement was killing him, making him crazy and willing to do anything to get out.

Across the cabin, Long Hair struggled to endure the increasing tidal action and constant movement of the boat. Each tumble over a swell and each sideways turn through the surf as the boat tacked against the headwind drained more and more color from his face. His muted, involuntary moans gave away his physical suffering. Collin sat himself up and double checked his surroundings. He weighed his options and reviewed his plan of attack, realizing he was willing to risk the threat of physical pain in order to escape the dreads of confinement.

Now seemed like a perfect time to launch into Long Hair if he could just keep his balance.

La Jolla, California, Scripps Cancer Research Center

June 15 1:22 p.m. Pacific Time

In the midst of amusedly watching Mike Zimmerman pace and shuffle, Rob’s cell phone buzzed. He checked the screen, not sure he should allow the distraction. Seeing that it was Lukas and knowing it hadn’t yet been twenty-four hours since they spoke last, he answered. “Lukas? What’s up?”

“Didn’t I tell you not to use my name?”

“Sorry, I forgot.”

“Are you alone?” asked Lukas.

“No, I’m here with Emily’s boss, Mike. We’re waiting for her to show up so I can take her to lunch.”

“You need to politely excuse yourself. Your lunch date is not going to happen.”

“What are you talking about?” said Rob, as he rose from the chair, dread spreading through his gut and across his face.

“I’ll tell you in a minute. Just get out to your car,” said Lukas.

Holding the phone to his chest and gesturing that it was important, Rob shook Mike’s hand, thanked him for his hospitality, excused himself, and told him not to worry about Emily. He would catch up with her another time.

“Rob,” Lukas called.

“Yeah, I’m here, just exiting the building,” Rob said as he returned the phone to his ear.

“Listen, there are a couple of FBI guys on protective duty for Emily. I don’t want them to see you, you hear?”

“I hear you. Where are they?”

“In a gray Taurus, parked near Emily’s white BMW. Do you see them?”

“Should’ve guessed.” Rob stopped short at the large glass doors leading to the parking lot, searching for both the BMW and the Taurus. “I don’t see either car, but the parking lot is pretty full. I parked around the side, near the street, so I should be able to get out quickly and without being seen.”

“Good. Keep your eye out for them. They’re supposed to be on protective detail, but apparently Emily objected to them following her around all day―felt they would interfere―so they agreed to stay outside the building during the work day. I’m afraid that was a bad decision, though I can understand the reasoning.”

“What do you mean a bad decision?”

“Are you in your car yet?” asked Lukas.

“I’m just about there,” said Rob, as the car chirped. Once inside, he continued. “Tell me what’s going on, Lukas.”

“Don’t use my name,” Lukas chided again. “I have two bits of bad news to share with you.”

“Sounds like one of them might have something to do with Emily and will explain why she’s not here to have lunch with me.”

“Very perceptive, my friend. The local police have taken witness statements from two people who watched a young woman matching Emily’s description get hauled away in a large white van not far from where you’re parked right now,” Lukas said solemnly.

“You’ve got to be kidding. Must’ve happened right before I got here. I can’t believe it,” Rob barked as he punched the seat next to him. His breathing resembled that of an angry bull.

“Look, Rob, it’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself.”

“I knew I should have called first to let her know I was coming.”

“But I told you not to, remember? I didn’t want her worried and I certainly didn’t want the FBI listening to your conversation with her. You need to stay disentangled.”

“Are you sure it was her that was abducted?” asked Rob, trying to keep a hopeful tone.

“To confirm, I pinged her phone. If the GPS coordinates are accurate and if she has her phone with her, she’s sitting on the median of the 5 Freeway about three miles south of your location. So I decided to try the cell phone Collin gave her and found that she is heading south on Interstate 805 and my FBI liaison assures me that their guys and her BMW are still in the parking lot at Scripps. I’ll keep a watch on that and figure something out.”

“This is just great. I come out here to help keep her safe and this happens before I even have a chance,” Rob said, still snorting angrily.

“Actually, you’re supposed to get information from her and protect Sarah and Henry, but things are happening way too fast for any of that to matter now,” said Lukas.

“What do you mean? Is that the other piece of bad news?”

“You’re going to like this even less,” Lukas said grimly. “They’ve taken Sarah Cook, as well.”

“Those sick bastards,” Rob yelled as he once again punched the passenger’s seat.

“Yeah, they roughed up Henry, too. He called it in around eleven this morning after the nurse he’d hired to help Sarah found him tied up and gagged on the floor of his garage.”

“Is he all right?”

“You know Henry. He’s a tough old guy. But he’s worried sick about his wife,” said Lukas. “Apparently, the cancer treatments are really wiping her out, so she’s weak and frail to begin with.”

Rob sucked in a breath between his teeth and held it for several seconds. “First, what do you know about Henry’s condition?”

“I haven’t got the details yet. I’m hoping you can get over to the hospital to find out and be with him.”

“Yes, I’ll head up there right away, but I have to tell you this makes me sick. No, it makes me mad, real mad. If I find these guys―”

“Look, Rob. I understand your anger. It’s natural in situations like these, but you have to put it aside for the time being. Anger causes one to make mistakes and act rashly. We can’t afford that right now. We have to stay sharp and focused.”

“I’m with you,” said Rob, forcing calmness upon himself. “Just tell me where to go and what to do to help. I want to get to these guys before they do anything to hurt either one of those ladies.”

“I know, me too. I’m making arrangements as we speak,” said Lukas. Rob could hear the clicking of a keyboard in the background.

“The thought of Sarah being kidnapped or hurt or mistreated really burns me up. She’s like another mom to me―I can’t let anything happen to her.”

“I know, Rob,” said Lukas, sounding distracted. “Time is of the essence. Sarah is in no condition to withstand this sort of thing. And poor Henry is probably beside himself with worry.”

“Where do I go? What can I do to help?” asked Rob.

“Go to Huntington Beach Hospital and take care of Henry. Let him know the FBI are working on finding Sarah, OK?”

“Can I go with them? With a gun so I can shoot these guys?”

“Tempting, isn’t it?” said Lukas. “You’d have my OK as long as you promised to plug them once for me, too.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Rob, a hint of a smile returning to his countenance.

“Seriously, I think it would be better for you to go see Henry,” said Lukas.

“Not nearly as much fun as shooting the bad guys now, is it?” said Rob.

“I know, I know. Don’t tell him too much, and don’t make any promises, but let him know there are people working hard to find Sarah and bring her and Emily home safely.”

“I understand. I’ll play it safe―give him something to hope for without making any promises. Makes sense.”

“Maybe you should contact Collin’s brother and sister,” Lukas suggested. “They should know what’s going on with their parents.”

*              *              *              *

Western Caribbean Sea, 45 miles north of Providencia Island

June 15 4:04 p.m. Caribbean Time

Captain Sewell stood at the helm of the
Admiral Risty
, clutching the grips of the boat’s wheel. The winds from the southeast were maintaining speeds of twenty miles per hour with gusts upward of thirty-five. With the intention of reaching the Island of Providencia ahead of the worst part of the storm, the Captain ordered “full sails” in order to maximize speed. It was a risky move with potentially heavier winds on their way.

His crew members prepared for stormy conditions. The wind rushed at them like a mountain stream in the spring, feral and erratic. Steady rain began to fall, so foul weather gear was passed out to everyone topside, even the three gunmen.

The winds had created a swell coming from the southeast, causing the
Admiral
to list and rock as it mounted the waves at roughly a thirty degree angle. Every man clung to something solid as the boat tipped and swayed in the mounting surf.

The crew positioned themselves along the railing on the port side. They were tethered by lines that would keep them from falling overboard, but would allow them to lean outward and use their weight to keep the boat from being pushed over as it sliced southward through the west-blowing wind. Before manning their posts, the Captain had instructed them to don life vests.

“Give us those, too,” Stinky demanded, aiming his gun at the Captain.

“Very well, but you will have to open that locker on the bow,” the Captain shouted above the noise, pointing to a rectangular holding compartment near the nose of the boat. “My men cannot help you right now. They must hike out like that or we will tip over. I must steer. You get the life jackets in that locker.”

Stinky glared at the Captain as he held tight to the railing near the cockpit, watching as the bow repeatedly dove into the waves, sending a torrent of water across the deck. He raised his voice in his native tongue and pointed at the locker. After Stinky repeated himself, Grunter reluctantly shuffled toward the locker, keeping both hands on the railing as he picked his way forward. He lost his footing several times as the waves washed past him, and he finally resorted to crawling his way there. While carefully holding the railing with one hand, Grunter lifted the locker’s lid and retrieved the vests, his knuckles white from clinging to the rail so tightly as he crawled back to the cockpit. Stinky, Grunter, and Long Hair struggled in the turbulent weather to get their vests on, which they did one at a time while the other two maintained a watchful eye on the Captain and crew.

But the Captain and crew were far too preoccupied with their battle to keep the
Admiral
upright and on course for the Island of Providencia to pay Stinky or his fellow hijackers any attention.

With each mighty gust, the sails would fill and begin to push the
Admiral
over to its starboard side. The Captain would turn to the west and the crew would lean hard, then he would return to his southerly heading as it dissipated, just to do it again moments later. With the help of the wind, the
Admiral
was making nearly twenty knots in the direction of Providencia’s safe harbor. It was a constant struggle, however, to stay on course and not allow the wind to blow them due west into the exposed shoals and rocky shores of Nicaragua’s coast. The Captain was far less familiar with that area and its dangers, preferring to steer toward Providencia and the perils there that he had experienced before.

The Captain’s eyes moved constantly. He monitored the sails, the riggings, the four-to-six-foot swells all around them, and the array of instruments in front of him. The radar, GPS, and depth gauge occupied a portion of his attention. Red and orange blotches on the radar screen indicated heavier rain fall lay to their east, but would be upon them before too long. Somewhere within the next hour or so, the Captain knew the winds would increase and he would be forced to furl most of his sails and reduce his speed for the safety of all aboard.

*              *              *              *

London, England

June 15, 9:49 p.m. London Time

Nic jumped in his seat as a hand clamped on his shoulder. “What the―?” he exclaimed breathlessly. Nic had been studying the storm’s path as well as obsessively scanning for any hints of radio contact with the
Admiral Risty
. So engrossed was he that he didn’t notice footsteps entering his cubicle, nor sense the presence of another human in his space.

“Easy there, chap. Just me,” announced Alastair.

Nic’s surprise deepened when he realized who it was that grabbed him and what time it was. “Whoa, I was not expecting that . . . not expecting anyone . . . Geez, don’t ever do that to me again, Alastair.” Recovering his wits, he added, “What brings you back to the office at this late hour?”

“Hey, you’re not the only one who works late, Lancaster,” said Alastair. His tone was artificially buoyant, the alcohol fumes attesting to the origin of such jocularity. “I’ve been monitoring the situation, as well. Just so happens, I was in the comfort of my own home, enjoying a lovely supper of toad-in-the-hole with brandy, when your text came in. It got me thinking about an old chum of mine. We go way back, we do. He’s now an admiral in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy with loads of experience all around the globe. Then it struck me: he spent some time in the region, dealing with many Caribbean states and territories. Maybe, just maybe, he could shed some light on things for us. So, I called him up, explained the situation, and asked him if he could provide some sort of guidance. Know what he said, Nic?”

“Haven’t a clue. Tell me.”

“He told me he’d get back to me. ‘Right,’ I said and continued my supper. Then you know what happened?”

“You polished off the brandy bottle and came down here to tell me this story.”