Dar and Kerry walked past him. Three guards fell in behind them, guns held at the ready. It was too late to turn back.
ANDREW RAN THE watercraft back to the Dixie, and fastened it to the line he’d left in the water for that purpose. He slipped his slimline tank on, adjusted his mask, and entered the water in barely the time it took to think about it.
Under the surface, the conditions were a lot easier. He could feel the pull of the waves above him, but they didn’t impede his progress, and he finned quickly toward the other boat. The sound of the hull breeching the water guided him, his light left unlit on his belt. No sense in advertising.
He could sense the boat near him and he went vertical, pulling out his new gadgets and fitting them to his hands. Carefully, he approached the hull of the boat and extended one arm, feeling the jolt as it contacted the fiberglass. “Gotcha.”
He triggered the lock and hung on as the boat nearly heaved him out of the water. “Hell.” Andrew got his other hand up quickly and latched on, hanging from both hands as the boat rolled. He waited for the hull to dip back down into the water, then released his first hand and stretched higher, moving up the surface like an extremely large spider.
Inside the door to the cabin, Dar paused, ignoring the prodding from the guard behind her. She checked out the room, then walked inside, keeping a light hand on Kerry’s back. DeSalliers was standing near the bar, and three men holding guns were stationed around the room.
Dar’s lips twitched into a feral smile. “Six guys with rifles?”
She glanced between herself and Kerry. “I’m flattered.”
“I feel so dangerous,” Kerry added, folding her arms over her chest. “And I’m not even wearing my brown belt.”
“Shut up.” DeSalliers waved three of the guards out. “You’re empty handed, Roberts. I thought you were smarter than that, but on second thought, I should have realized you aren’t.”
Dar deliberately turned her back on him, strolling across the cabin’s interior to study one of the maps on the wall. “I’m not empty handed; you’re empty headed.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “Here’s my deaclass="underline" you show me Bud.”
“This is not your deal,” DeSalliers interrupted. “Now you just shut up and listen to me.”
“No!” Dar turned and walked right past the gun barrel of one 306 Melissa Good of the guards. “You listen to me, you scumbag.” She felt her temper rise, and a rush of energy filled her body. “You want the information I have? Do you? Otherwise, I’ll just walk out of here and sell it to the highest bidder.”
“You don’t have shit.”
“Don’t I?” Dar smiled. “ You’re wrong about that. I know about the poaching.” She ticked off one of her fingers. “I know Wharton cut a deal with the locals.” She paused and waited. DeSalliers now watched her with lethal, bitter silence. “I know about the will. So, you jackass—if you want what I’ve got, then you do what I say and it’s yours.”
DeSalliers’ entire face twitched.
“You’ve only got two days before your loans default,” Kerry broke in. “If I were you, I’d just salvage what I could out of this.”
The man stared at her. “You don’t know shit.”
“Sure I do.” Kerry kept an even, almost kind tone. “It’s all in a database somewhere. You realized that, didn’t you? Public debt filings.”
DeSalliers snorted softly. “Yeah. That’s how you ruined your old man, isn’t it? Killed him, didn’t it?”
It was like taking a spear in the gut. Kerry only just clamped down on her emotions and somehow managed to keep her expression unchanged. “Yes, it is,” she answered. “I’d gladly do the same to you.”
Dar dealt with the realization that if she’d had a gun in her hand at that moment, she would have shot DeSalliers without a moment’s regret. “So, here’s the deal,” she repeated. “You show me Bud. You give me a transfer account, and I’ll transfer your skunk money. Then I give you your smoking gun, and you let Bud go.”
DeSalliers watched her from narrowed eyes. He remained silent for a minute, then very, very slowly, he nodded in agreement.
“How do I know you’ve got a smoking gun?”
“Because I say I do,” Dar told him. “You’re not worth lying to, and Wharton’s not worth lying for.”
The tall man’s head cocked slightly to one side. “Fucking amazing. We finally agree on something.” He walked over to the window, keeping them guessing as to what his answer would be.
“Tell me something first.” He turned. “What is your real percentage in this, Roberts?”
Leaning against a bulkhead, Dar ears picked up a soft clanking somewhere nearby. “I’ve already told you,” she said. “You just don’t believe me.”
“That you stumbled on this by accident?” DeSalliers laughed bitterly. “ You’re right. I don’t. He pointed at one of the guards.
“Bring the piece of scum up here.”
Kerry released the breath she was holding and wished for a Terrors of the High Seas 307
glass of water. Her insides were churning so badly, she felt like a washing machine. She forced herself to move slowly and casually, wandering back across the cabin to end up next to Dar again. Her eyes met her partner’s, and for a brief moment Dar’s mask dropped and Kerry saw sympathy and regret in the pale blue eyes watching her. Kerry tensed her lips in acceptance and patted Dar’s hip as she came to a halt beside her. So far, she decided, the plan seems to be working. She prayed to God it stayed that way.
ANDREW SLOWLY LIFTED his head above the edge of the hull and peered across it. It was empty. The guards had clustered on the stern, out of the storm, exactly what he’d been hoping for. With a light sniff, he released one of his grips and removed it, sticking it in its pouch and transferring his hand to the railing. He repeated the motion with the other one, then pulled himself up and over onto the deck.
He lay there a moment, listening and catching his breath.
“Ah’m too damn old to be doing this,” he muttered to himself. The deck remained silent, so he lifted himself up and snaked across the top of it to the two prominent hatches set in its center. Then he lay back down and examined the hatches.
With a soft grunt, he fished in a vest pocket and drew out a slim tool. He slipped the edge of it under the hatch and pried gently upward near the hinge, working the fiberglass cover back and forth.
With a soft crack, the hinge broke. Andy left it as it was and eased to the other side of the hatch, working on the next hinge point.
A soft creak sounded a warning, and he pressed his body against the hull and listened. Someone was coming along the railing toward the bow. Andrew cursed silently but remained very still, tensing his muscles as he watched the space between the cabin and the railing. A man wandered through it and leaned on the rail, watching the waves. Even after a few minutes, he didn’t seem inclined to move on. Andrew put his hands on the surface of the hull and pushed himself upward, getting silently to his feet and rising to his full height behind the man. He paced forward even with the roll of the boat until he was just behind his target.
The man had a rifle slung over his shoulder. Andrew studied him for a brief moment, then balled his hand into a fist and slugged the man in the back of the neck. With a soft choking sound, the guard’s knees buckled. Andrew stripped away the rifle and dropped it into the water, then debated throwing the man in after it. Wouldn’t have been the first time, by any means.
With a faint sigh, he dragged the man over to the edge of the bow instead, and laid him down on the curve. Then he went back to 308 Melissa Good the hatch and dropped down next to it, easing the edge up and peering underneath.