Pilot Error (31 page)

The man holding her hand and doing his best to assure her that everything was going to be okay... was now blind.

An odd spasm in the center of her chest made it hard to breathe. Dropping his hand, Micki took a step back toward Luke and chided gently, "Why didn't you tell me you can't see?"

Luke scowled. "Who says I can't see? I've just got spots in front of my eyes, is all. It'll pass."

Waving a hand before his face yielded no response. "We've got to get out of here, Luke." Before he could protest, she guided his hand onto her shoulder. "Come on."

"You go." Stubbornly, he pulled his hand away. "I probably set off a dozen alarms and guards are going to be pouring in here any minute. I'll slow them down for you." He swept an arm toward a dark corridor heading away to the right. "That way. That's the way they brought me in."

"Don't go all noble on me now, Hardigan," Micki snapped, taking his hand firmly and jerking him toward the open door. "I've just got my mind made up about you and I don't want to change it. Now come on!"

Obviously reluctant, Luke followed her into the corridor. A light set just above their heads flared on as they moved into the hall, triggered by their motion. It threw a circle of light about them while darkness ran unrelieved in either direction.

Hesitating, Micki cast a glance up and down the corridor before setting off in the direction Luke had indicated. As they moved forward, light after light blazed into life, while the ones behind remained on for a few moments then faded to black.

Rounding a curve in the corridor, Micki caught a sudden glimpse of watery light ahead. "I see something."

"Might be our way out," Luke said, his fingers tightening on her shoulder as they crept forward.

"It's a boat dock!" she whispered in excitement, taking them into the natural cavern that opened before them.

Dark restless sea lapped and stirred against rock and metal, flowing into the grotto via a triangular fissure in the rock. Steel docks ran out over the surface and around the chamber, allowing for loading and unloading of the bogus merchandise that came through there. To the right, through the fissure, was a narrower waterway lit by a string of low beam lights, leading out to what Micki assumed was the ocean and freedom. Other land corridors, like the one in which they stood, arrowed away into blackness like spokes from the hub of a wheel. Normally the place must hum with activity.

Normally, Micki thought with a frown, but not today. The entire area was deserted and silent, save for the dark water that lapped leisurely beneath the empty docks.

"Oh, no."

"What?"

"There aren't any boats." Micki scanned the huge cave again, hoping she was wrong. Her gaze came to rest on a reflective surface on the far side, for a moment making her think that maybe things weren't so hopeless after all. On a metal table sat a marine band radio. It made sense; someone had to be in control of guiding the boats in and out of here. Otherwise these pirates would be crashing into one another in that narrow exit/entrance waterway.

Towing Luke after her, Micki hurriedly explained what she had found. Reaching it, she noted a ribbon of cable that disappeared up into the limestone, presumably to an antenna located somewhere on the surface. Shrugging off Luke's hand and her makeshift backpack, Micki flicked the switch to bring the radio to life. Thanking God that there was power, she tucked the flashlight under her arm, lifted the mike, and concentrated on finding a channel to call for help.

Luke backed up a few cautious steps and cocked his head in the direction they had come. Watching him as she spoke, and realizing he was listening for the sound of pursuit that would be coming very, very soon, Micki frantically tried another frequency in her search for a human voice.

Finally, she was rewarded with a calm British accent. "Hamilton Harbor Police. What is the nature of your emergency?"

"Micki, I think they're coming," Luke said.

Gripping her flashlight in one hand and the microphone in the other, Micki pressed the talk button. "We're being held prisoner on Dominic Van Allen's estate. It's on an island. I don't know which one."

The dispatcher's voice cut sharply across her plea. "Is this a prank call?"

"No!" She couldn't accept the possibility that she might be disbelieved. "He's holding us here against our will, but we escaped into a cave, somewhere on the island."

Luke edged back to her, his outstretched hand flailing about in search of her. "We're about to have company, beautiful."

"Who did you say this was?"

Now Micki could hear the sounds coming from the same corridor through which she and Luke had fled. "Micki Jacinto. And Luke Hardigan of the US Navy. He—"

"Micki!" Luke dove toward her voice, pushing her to the ground as armed men burst into the cavern on the other side of the dock.

The impact of hitting the floor in Luke's arms knocked the flashlight out of Micki's hand. She watched helplessly as it rolled down the incline to land in the water with a splash. She did manage to hang onto the microphone, its coiled cord stretching toward the radio like a taut lifeline. Shouts rang out as the group of five men spotted them across the water.

Gunfire erupted about them, the bullets ricocheting hazardously off the stone walls and pinning them down behind the metal table. Micki's gaze fell to her shirt-turned-bag of supplies, dropped carelessly at her feet when the radio became a more urgent necessity. There was a gun in that bag, stolen from her guard, which might give her and Luke a little leverage. At least they wouldn't be sitting ducks. But she couldn't reach it or the bag without putting herself in the direct line of fire.

Luke was scrambling to his haunches, keeping his head down. The radio stand offered some cover, but not for long. "There's got to be some other way out of here!"

The roar of multiple assault rifles firing in a confined space was deafening. Reluctant to abandon the radio, her link to the outside world, Micki resisted Luke's urgings to move. There was a brief lull in the shooting, giving her time to shout one last desperate message into the mike as Luke dragged her to her feet and away.

"Listen, they shot down my Cessna over the Florida Keys and kidnapped us. You've got to send help—"

The mike was jerked from her hands as they reached the end of its cord.

"Which way!" Luke yelled, instinctively ducking as the radio took a direct hit and exploded into sparks and flames and a plume of pungent smoke.

She scanned for the nearest exit—the nearest of the dark spoke-like corridors—and instead saw that the man leading the pack around the docks toward them was Reynolds.

A dim opening lay two or three yards to their left.

"Micki!"

Grabbing Luke's hand, she hissed, "Follow me!"

Another of the motion lights snapped on above them as they entered the corridor at a bent-over run, spotlighting them like hunted animals. Straight ahead was a sharp turn. At least that would shield them from the bullets for a few precious moments.

Metal doors were set in the smooth limestone walls at regular intervals, and with a small portion of her attention Micki realized these tunnels had been manmade. No doubt the doors, which all bore electronic locks, were storerooms for the counterfeit goods that were shipped in via the sea cave.

Micki tried to hug the wall to avoid tripping the motion lights, but the mechanisms were too sensitive. Time after time, a stray movement too far into the arc spilled the betraying glare over them.

The alternating pattern of light and dark in the arching stone was surreal, lending an air of nightmare to the flight. She was hampered by Luke's stumbling and slower pace, and their pursuers grew steadily closer. At least they had stopped shooting. The stone distorted echoes of shouted curses and running footsteps reverberated about them like malevolent ghosts nipping at their heels.

Somewhere in the chaos, Micki heard the phrases,
'dead end'
and
'got 'em!'
and prayed that she was interpreting it wrong. Although the corridor seemed to go on forever, she knew it had to end somewhere. If she didn't find another outlet before they reached it...

The floor and walls had roughened, as if that section of the corridor was a more natural formation and less manmade. There was a graceful curve to it, protecting them from view, and Micki strove to increase the pace to take every advantage of it.

In the brief spell of darkness between the glare from one motion light and triggering the next, she sensed a deeper darkness directly to her right. It must be an intersecting corridor! Reacting out of pure instinct, she wheeled into it, dragging Luke with her.

"What...?"

"Shhh—" Her warning ended at the same moment she collided with stone. Unaware, Luke slammed into her back.

"You okay?" He took hold of her arms as he stepped back.

"Yeah." Micki ran her hands over the cold, rough limestone in the dark in front of her. A sudden, bitter flood of disappointment assailed her. It was a dead end—more a natural alcove than another passage. There was barely room for them to stand side by side without being in the main corridor itself. Her heart sank as she realized that this was not the easy escape route into concealing darkness that she had imagined.

Worse, her desperate ploy to take them out of the line of sight had cost precious time—time that may cost them their freedom and their lives. Unless...

Inspired by an impulsive idea to make use of the motion lights that had so hampered them, Micki spun to dig in the pockets of Luke's camo pants, since she had none of her own.

"Micki!" he yelped softly. "What are you doing? This is one hell of a place to get passionate!"

Shushing him, she extracted the first thing that came to hand—a plastic comb—and faced the corridor again. She leaned far enough into it to get a clear shot, counting on the darkness of the alcove to conceal her. Flinging the comb into the blackness beyond, she was gratified with a glimpse of it arcing away, triggering at least two motion detectors, before she was forced to duck out of sight. The sound of pursuit was just too close.

"Micki?"

"Shhh, stay quiet and stay still." She put her arm across his chest to force him back as far as possible in the tiny space. It wouldn't do her plan any good to have a foot sticking out and trip Reynolds or any of his men right in front of their hidey hole.

It was only a heartbeat before the chase reached them that Micki felt a cool strip of air down her back and legs. As men pounded blindly past them in the dark, exhilaration quickened her pounding pulse. She reached a hand to investigate the rock wall behind her. Yes! There was a cleft venting air, and if it were just wide enough to squeeze through...

Slipping her hand into it when the group had clamored by, she was rewarded by a space several hand spans wide, running from the floor to several inches above her head. It wasn't much, but at least it was somewhere to run.

"Come on," she whispered to Luke. Moving, she found she could slip sideways into the promising crack.

"Where?"

"Here. Follow me." Micki took another step into total darkness on the other side of the crevice, the air current ruffling the loose hair about her face. There, she found solid stone beneath her feet and a wider area around her.

Luke, however, was still on the other side. She pulled on his hand, but he bumped into the stone and recoiled.

"No," she said impatiently, guiding him until he grasped the edge of the fissure with his free hand. "In here."

"I... can't."

From behind them came muffled curses and a shout; "Where the hell did they go?" Clearly the corridor was a dead end, and it was only going to be a matter of seconds before Reynolds figured out they'd given him the slip and backtracked.

"Get your flat belly in here, Hardigan! And then pray none of those big gorillas are going to be able to squeeze through. Damn it, you can do this! Come on, try!"

There was a groan from Luke, and the sounds of his struggle to squeeze through the narrow crack. "I won't fit!"

"You have to," she insisted, as he fought to free himself from her grasp. "Because I'm not letting go of your hand, Luke, so if they pull you out, then they'll pull me out too."

"Damn it, let go!"

"No way." She grabbed a handful of his stolen camo splashed t-shirt for leverage. "Now come on! Exhale!"

She heard him comply and hauled mightily on his shirt. There was a rip of material, a stifled grunt, and suddenly Luke was halfway through. He popped out on her side with a gasping groan, having left most of the camo print, and a fair bit of skin, on the craggy limestone.

At least, Micki thought grimly, he was through. His hand still in hers, she drew him aside into the pitch black darkness, away from the easy reach of the men she could now hear just beyond their hiding place.

"Damn it," a gruff voice said. Reynolds. "They must have gone in here." He shouted into the opening. "I know you're in there, honey, and Lover Boy's nowhere around to save your pretty little neck this time. An 'accident' would have been good, but 'shot while trying to escape' works just as well."

A hand holding a long-barreled aluminum flashlight appeared as its chubby owner fought to squeeze through, splaying a beam over the natural limestone that pressed in on all sides to form a passageway. Watching Reynolds, Micki smiled in grim satisfaction. That fat spider would never fit and neither, she believed, would any of his men. Impulsively pushing Luke out of the way, she snatched the light from Reynolds' hand.