Rath was making the best of the disasters that had befallen him and maintained optimism that they would be able to recover the sunken Pandora boxes and turn them over to Libya. If he couldn’t, he was confident that the single box in his possession would guarantee a financially secure future for him and Greta.
He figured he only needed a two-hour head start to escape Iceland once they reached its shores. It would take twice that time just for the Empress to get close enough to the island to report what had happened. By then Rath would have sent a chopper to the Njoerd, and he and Greta would be on a leased jet for a hop to Tripoli. He looked over his shoulder to where she huddled in her parka and offered her a reassuring smile. They’d be okay.
Mercer would have slammed down the phone if Rath’s unimpeded escape hadn’t been entirely his fault. It didn’t matter that the rest of his team had agreed with his assessment about the communications from the Empress. He’d made the call to let Rath go and radio the authorities afterward. And now the German was miles away with one of the boxes and there was nothing he could do to stop him.
Like hell there wasn’t. The idea came to him in a moment of clarity that overwhelmed his swelling feelings of defeat. “Erwin, put Raeder on the phone.”
“You’re on a speaker phone here in the bridge,” the president of Kohl said at once. “What do you want me to do?”
“Rath will be heading to Iceland. Turn the Empress northward and tell the captain to push the engines as far as they will go.”
“Herr Mercer, this is Captain Heinz-Harold Nehring.” The voice was accented but commanding. Mercer imagined a ramrod-straight veteran who’d seen and done it all. “The Sea Empress is capable of twenty-eight knots. We will never catch Rath. His boat is too fast. I recommend we alert the destroyer Intrepido with signal flares and, once we are close enough for voice contact, have them take up the hunt.”
“Where is she?”
“About eight miles south of us,” the captain admitted.
“It’ll take too long.” Mercer fought to keep frustration from his voice. “Every second we waste gives Rath that much more of a lead. We have the capability to go after him ourselves. Turn us to Iceland and start firing those flares. The Intrepido can catch up and you can tell them what’s happening en route. Does she have a chopper?”
“Yes, but it is down right now for a transmission problem.”
“Doesn’t matter. I can catch Rath.”
“How?”
“Turn the ship and let me worry about it.” Mercer looked at Ira Lasko. “How many guns do you have?”
“I dumped them all.”
“Father Vatutin?”
“So did I.”
Hilda had also returned to the cabin without her gun. “Erwin,” Mercer said into the phone, “get some weapons, MP-5s and pistols. Also a cell phone and a sat-phone. It may work when we’re closer to Iceland. Meet me in the marina where we first came aboard.”
“What are you doing?” Ira asked when Mercer cut the connection.
“Remember the Riva speedboats next to the Jet Skis? They’re ten or fifteen miles an hour faster than Rath’s boat. Rath’s going to beat us to the coast, but we’ll be right on his heels.”
Lasko made a sour face. “Those boats are thirty feet long,” he said doubtfully. “We must be a hundred miles from Iceland. They’ll never survive a race across the open ocean.”
Mercer was already at the door, forcing the others in the cabin to follow. “The boat will be fine. It’s us who may not survive.”
Ira got a sudden idea. “Wet suits?”
“Now we’re on the same page. They’re right next to the Aquarivas.”
Like a squad of soldiers bent on a one-way mission, they descended to the marina, grim faced and silent. While the alarms had been canceled, the public-address system repeated a call for all passengers to report to their rooms for a head count. The hallways were deserted.
Mercer’s body vibrated with tension, but his senses were on the hyperacuity he experienced whenever he faced danger. He felt he could almost hear the second hand of his watch.
He crashed through the doors to the marina and snapped on the overhead lights. The two Rivas were along the left wall, their polished forward decks gleaming under the fluorescents. The long stern decks hid a pair of 315 horsepower Mercruiser engines. Each had a leather-trimmed open cockpit behind a windshield that was more decorative than functional. They were expensive toys designed for running around secluded tropical coves, and he was about to take one out in the open north Atlantic on a chase her builders had never imagined.
He moved to the crane controls next to the glass office where Greta Schmidt had captured the others. “Ira, check the fuel status of the boat closest to the exit doors. If she’s full, dump out half the gas. We need speed, not range.”
“I’m on it.” He was already unclamping the rear hatch to get at the engines.
Mercer pulled an oversize wet suit over his stolen clothes. The garment was stiff and new, cutting his mobility, but he’d need it when the Riva approached Iceland’s wave-lashed coast. He and Ira were in for a wet, freezing ride. The boots had no treads, so he was forced to keep on his sneakers. The smell of spilled gas began to envelop the space. “Good job. Father Vatutin, monitor the gauges so Ira can change.”
Erwin was not alone when he came in to the marina a moment later. Marty, Anika, and Klaus Raeder were with him. Mercer allowed himself a second of relief that she was all right and turned his concentration back to what he was about to attempt.
“Give the weapons to Hilda to check over.” She had proved her weapons training equaled her cooking skills. “What’s the status on that fuel?”
“Almost there.”
“Anika, go open the outer doors,” Mercer said, paying no attention to her expression.
She ignored his order and crossed to him. Mercer was bent over, tying his shoe, and didn’t know she was there until he straightened. She slapped him across the face harder than any woman had ever struck him. He reeled against the rack of wet suits, his cheek numbed.
“That was for sticking a gun to my head.” Fury thickened her accent and made her eyes burn. “And I’d hit you again for jumping off the bridge. You didn’t need to do that. You could have given up right then. We had already won. It was a stupid stunt. You just wanted to see if you could do it, didn’t you? Goddamned men and their egos. You remind me of a climber I knew who attempted an impossible ascent but was willing to die trying. Which he did.”
She turned away, but Mercer placed a hand on her shoulder. She shook herself free. “Don’t touch me.”
Behind her anger, Mercer saw fear. For herself mostly, but a little for him too. “If you want to pigeonhole me with suicidal rock climbers I can’t stop you.” He showed no anger because he couldn’t blame her. “But I think you’re wrong. Am I reckless? When I have to be. Do I take chances no sane person would? Yes, but not because I want to. I do it because I have to.”
“And you have to chase Rath in a boat that will sink after the first mile?” Concern dampened her rage and her true feelings welled into her voice.
“Yes. Because he has to be stopped. I didn’t choose to be here, Anika. Nor did I choose to be on that walkway with a dozen guns pointed at me. In case you hadn’t noticed, I react to situations. I don’t go looking for them. If you think of me as some cliched macho guy driven to danger that’s fine. But I don’t think you know me well enough for that kind of judgment.” Mercer became more conciliatory. “I’m sorry I scared you.”