Superior Storm (Lake Superior Mysteries) (36 page)

“Now you,” Angela said. She walked me forward to where the mast descended from above. She faste
ne
d my hands together around the
pole
. “I think we’re better off without you moving around,” she said, jerking on my wrists to make sure I was secure.

“Any chance I could get some coffee?” I asked hopefully.

I couldn’t see Angela’s eyes very well in the dimness
,
but she looked at me for what seemed like an unreasonably long time.

“No electricity,” she said at last. “If you could fix that, maybe I could get you some.”

“I don’t know how to fix it,” I said truthfully enough. “But you can make coffee on the stove. Boil a few cups of water, and add a tablespoon of coffee for every cup.”

She shook her head, “You never quit, do you?” she asked.

“It’s one of my best things,” I said.

“Says who?” she muttered and turned away. “I think it’s time, Philip,” she said.

My heart began to pound. But Phil only went over the w
all where the radio was mounted
and began unscrewing the face-plate. He pulle
d out the non-functioning radio
and stuck his hand in the hole beyond. He came out with a big orange plastic radio that looked a lot like the dead one I had found in the dinghy.

However, this one worked. He turned a knob and the sound of static flowed out of it. Angela snatched the radio from him. She turned a few knobs and then held it up to her face.

“
Tiny Dancer
to
Great Escape
,
Tiny Dancer
to
Great Escape
, come in please.”

I thought that was a very nice name for the getaway boat.
I said as much, but no one paid any attention.

Angela
released the talk button and static hissed again.
She repeated the call again.
Suddenly the unit crackled to life.

“I’ve got you
Tiny Dancer
,” said a voice, hollowed out by the radio waves. “
This is
Great Escape
.”

“The day our father died, over,” said Angela cryptically.

“Was a happy one, over,” replied the voice.

“What a sweet little password phrase,” I said. No one acknowledged me.
It seemed to be a trend.

“OK,
”
said Angela,
“
switch to sixty-seven.”

“Sixty-seven, roger,” said the voice, which had to be Red Holland, Angela’s brother.

Angela leaned toward
the dim light of a
window and changed the channel. The digital LED on the radio read “
sixty-seven
.”

“Red?” she said, holding down the talk button.

“I’m here, over,” he said.

“What’s your position, over?”

Holland re
a
d out some GPS coordinates.

“We’re a little behind,
too
” said Angela. “The storm slowed us down, the engines died
,
and we ran out the battery, over.”

“Any trouble? Over?”

“Borden tweaked Phil a little, and the FBI pig took a shot at us, but we’
re in control.
”

“I will proceed along the course further, over,” said Red Holland over the radio.

“OK,” said Angela. “Expect to find us along the same line, maybe two to five miles from our original rendezvous point
. What’s your ETA?
Over
.”

“It’s a little rough
,” commented Holland. “I can’t really plane in this weather. Should be maybe half an hour to forty minutes, over.”

“You tired, over?”

“I expect to sleep while you get us home. You’ve had all that help, and I’ve been up all night. Over.”

“We’ll see,” said
Angela
. “See you soon, over and out.”

There was relative quiet in the cabin.

“Can I make Jonah some coffee?” asked Leyla suddenly.

Angela looked at her. My eyes were a little more used to the dimness, and I thought her expression was contemptuous. “He’s just a man,” she said. “You don’t need to serve him.”

Leyla tossed her hair back. “He’s
my
man,” she said. “I want to.”
I suddenly felt warmer.

“You’re brainwashed. He is part of the patriarchal system that keeps women like you oppressed.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t understand,” said Leyla.

“You’re right.”

“I want coffee too,” said Leyla.

“Fine. You need to do it with your hands the way they are.”

Leyla scooted around the table and slipped past Angela behind the galley counter. With her wrists together, she rummaged around and found a small pot. She put it in the sink and then used both hands to turn on the faucet. Nothing happened.

“Rats,” she said. “I forgot – the pump is battery operated.” She looked at Angela. “You mind if I go up and dip some out of the lake?”

“You’re crazy,” said Angela. But she reached up and unlatched the companionway door for Leyla. Leyla went up, but she wasn’t gone long. The pot was about half full. “It’s about the cleanest water we’ll ever drink,” she said. She bustled around some more with the stove and coffee. I slid down the mast and sat on the floor, leaning back against the bulkhead next to the door to the forward sleeping quarters, my arms stretched in front of m
e
around the
mast
pole.
No one said anything.

After a few minutes
,
the most beautiful aroma in the world began to fill the cabin.
I was filled with vicious longing for the dark elixir of the gods. After a few more agonizing moments, Leyla came forward and knelt in front of me.

“Can you hold and drink?” she asked. I took the cup in my hands. If
I
scooted in close to the mast and craned my neck to the left
,
I could drink awkwardly without spilling too much. As I experimented with this
,
Leyla leaned closer and whispered, “
C
hannel
sixty-seven
is a commercial shipping frequency. If there is a ship around, the
y
might have heard.”

At first, I was filled with a rush of hope. Then I remembered that
L
ake Su
perior is bigger than a lot of
E
ast-
C
oast s
tates, and the chances were good that no one was
with
in radio range out there. The
Superior Rose
had a schedule t
o keep
and had moved out hours ago. And even if someone
else
overheard, it was just two boats figuring out a rendezvous – they really hadn’t said enough to make anyone suspicious. However, hope is good, and sometimes hard to come by, so I didn’t say anything to Leyla.

“Thank you for the coffee,” is all I said.

As I finished the hot drink, I began to finally feel warm again, and with the warmth came a powerful drowsiness. I had slept less than an hour all night. Twice
,
I felt my head jerk downward. I cursed myself for a fool, sleeping away my last hour on earth, but it was hard to see what else I could do.

I was startled awake by the popping of sound from the radio.
I didn’t hear what was said at first.

“Okay,” said Angela. “I’ll go up and watch out. Over.”

I squinted my eyes
as Angela walked over
to
the table. She faced Leyla. “How do you stop this boat when it’s under sail?”

“Why should I help you?” said Leyla.

Angela took two more steps and
regarded me dispassionately. She took out her pistol and held it by her leg, bending over a little to see me better.

“Wait,” said Leyla.

But Angela drew
back
her hand and struck me
with her gun
exactly where she had
done so
before. The pain exploded above my eye. I couldn’t cover
my head with my hands, so I scooted up to the mast and tried to shelter my head from further blows. But Angela was finished. Leyla was standing up.

“Stop it! Stop and I’ll help you.”

“That’s better,” said Angela with satisfaction.

“I’ll need my hands,” said Leyla. I was waiting for the stars to stop
interfering with
my vision, so I didn’t
see for sure when Angela cut her free.

“Phil
ip
,” I heard Angela say, “Why don’t you sec
ure
Agent Stone,
too? I’d rather not
trust to his injuries at this critical moment.”

I looked up to see Leyla’s feet disappear up the companionway, followed by Angela.
I was alone with Stone and Phil. Stone was straightening up. He glanced toward me and dropped his left eyelid
smoothly and slowly.
My head throbbing, and fresh blood beginning to drip over my eyebrow, I hitched myself up and gripped the metal mast pole. Phil tucked his pistol into his waistband
and reached out with both hands to shift Stone. He put his hands under the armpits of the wounded man. I watched
,
like a cat
stalking
a bird. Stone reached up to grab Phil’s right hand with his left. “It hurts,” he rasped. Phil shifted awkwardly, his arms tangled up with Stone. I swung my body around the mast and drove both feet
like a scythe
into Phil’s legs. Stone held him with his left hand, so that Phil’s legs went out from under him, while his body fell toward me. As he hit the floor
,
the breath exploded out of him
,
and I scooted down and wrapped my knees around his neck. Stone winced, but moved quickly for all that, and pulled the gun out of Phil’s waistband and held
it
up to his head.

“Be still, OK?” he said. Phil blinked. I released some of the pressure on his neck, and he nodded.

“Lock it in again, for a minute,” said Stone to me. I put
one
foot behind my
opposite knee
and squeezed a little. “I don’t want to hurt you
,
Phil,” I said quietly.
“
But I will if I have to.” He blinked.

Stone lurched to his feet, stumbled
,
and slid back to his knees.
He tried and failed again, and
finally stayed
up on the third try. “Didn’t realize how much blood I lost,” he muttered. He went to the galley and got a knife, came back and cut my handcuffs. He handed me the gun. “I’m right-handed,” he said, and collapsed back
onto the settee. I felt dizzy,
and my head was throbbing,
but I held the gun in both hands and pressed onto the top of Phil’s head.

“I’m going to get up
,
Phil,” I said.
“
You stay right there, O
kay
?”

He coughed and groaned and finally rasped
, “O
kay
.”

The
Tiny Dancer
suddenly swung firmly to port and then seemed to hover, wallowing in the waves.
Leyla had swung into the wind to stop
our progress
.

“Get him up and use him a
s a
shield,” said Stone, grunting with pain.

“O
kay,
Phil,” I said. “Get up now.”
He stood, and his right knee was clearly giving him pain.
I stepped behind him, wrapping my
left arm firmly around his neck
and keeping the gun in his
back
.

I felt awkward and mean. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

Stone looked at me incredulously. Phil said, “That’s okay. I did it to you guys.”

F
or a minute
, I thought
that little
exchange
might
finish Stone off, where bullets had failed.
He looked like he was having a heart attack.
“I must be delirious
,” he muttered. He shook his head. “Okay, get in position and wait for Angela to come down.”

The companionway door thrust open
,
and Angela started down the steps. “What was that noise?”

“I’ve got Phil,” I said. “Come down slowly.”

Angela gave an unearthly scream, something like that of the cougars I have heard in the hills above my cabin. She bent down, and in one smooth motion drew her gun, and fired at me.
This was not how it was supp
osed to go. My reactions slowed
,
and
my mind churned uselessly.
I ducked behind Phil. I felt terrible about it later, but there it is. Phil made a little sound in his throat, almost a squeal. I stuck my gun around his body and fired twice, quickly. The boat was heaving, so accuracy was not really an option, though with my ignorance of handguns, it probably never was. Angela screamed in rage and backed up the stairs.