“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes. What about you?”
“I could use some aspirin.”
“What is this?”
“I don’t know. But it’s bad. We need to get loose.”
“How tight are your wrists tied?”
“Tight,” Sam said. “But I already found a spot on the wall that’s got a jagged edge. Just a matter of time until I saw through the cord. We’re lucky they used rope.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Shift over in front of me so he can’t see what I’m doing.” Sam leaned over to Lazlo. “Did you hear all that?”
“Barely. I’ll move to your left so you’re covered if they come back.”
The men didn’t return, though, and after a long hour Sam eyed the guard, who was reading in his corner, and whispered to Remi, “I’m free. Let me get my ankles untied and then I’ll deal with our friend there.”
“You want to get me loose first?”
“They could be back any second. I’ll take him down, then cut you two free. It’ll be faster.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“Improvise.” Sam inched farther back from Remi. “Move away from me so I have some room. You too, Lazlo. But don’t be obvious.”
When they’d done as he asked, Sam called out to the guard, “I have to use the bathroom.”
The man looked over at him and laughed. He went back to what he was doing and Sam called out again. “Please.”
The guard ignored him.
Sam decided to try something different. “You’ll hang for this. They’ll come for us and you’ll dance at the end of a rope.”
“Shut up,” the guard snarled.
Sam shook his head and muttered audibly, “Idiot. Stupid piece of garbage.”
“Not stupid. You the one tied up.”
“Big talk, moron. What rathole did they find you living in?” Sam glared at the man. “I can buy and sell you a thousand times over, lowlife. You’re an insect.”
The man rose, his face twisted with anger, and stormed toward Sam. “I say shut up!”
Sam spat at the man’s feet and gave him a dismissive look. “You can barely pronounce it, you dolt.” Sam glanced at Lazlo. “No wonder this island’s stuck in the Stone Age.”
The man took another step toward him and Sam made his move, a lightning-quick sweep kick that knocked the guard’s legs out from under him and sent him pitching backward. Before the guard hit the hard stone floor, Sam leapt up and threw himself on the man, cracking ribs with his elbow and slamming the side of his fist into the islander’s face. The guard made a wet, gurgling sound as his head cracked against the floor. His eyes rolled back into his head until all Sam could see were the whites.
Sam stood and, after a glance at the unconscious guard, rushed to Remi and Lazlo. With the machete, he quickly severed their bonds.
Remi whispered to him as he finished Lazlo’s leg bindings. “How are we going to get out of here?”
“We can try backtracking through the cave, but they’re probably in there somewhere.” He peered toward where another passage was just visible in the gloom. “How about door number two?”
Remi moved behind Sam and quickly inspected his head. “It’s scabbed over.”
“One less thing to worry about.” Sam hefted the machete, considering the working blade’s sharpened, nicked edge, and then his eyes roamed over the room. His gaze stopped at one of the crates, where a collection of tools lay, along with a coil of rope. Remi glanced at the potential weapons and moved to them, selecting the most lethal, before heading back to Lazlo, rope also in hand.
“Here’s a hatchet. Grab a light and let’s get out of here.”
“What about that bloke?” Lazlo asked, tilting his head at the downed guard.
“I’ll make short work of him,” Sam said. He scrounged among their discarded bindings and found a length of cord that looked promising. A minute later, he’d bound the man’s wrists and ankles and stuffed a rag in his mouth. “That should keep him out of trouble for a while.”
A faint clank sounded from the passage they’d come down. Sam’s head swiveled toward it and then he gestured to Remi and Lazlo. “Follow me, and don’t make a sound.”
“Sam. A machete’s no match for a gun,” Remi whispered.
“A gun’s only as good as the shooter,” he said, his face serious. “Come on.”
Sam crept to the far end of the cave, where a cavity led deeper into the mountain. He waited until it was too dark in the passage to see from the glow behind them and then switched on the flashlight he’d grabbed. To their right, the narrow cave forked in two directions, and he stopped, listening. He sniffed at the dank air and pointed to the right branch. “It smells fresher this way. More humid,” he said.
“What if it dead-ends?” Lazlo asked.
Sam shrugged. “That would be bad.”
They kept moving, the ground angling lower before leveling out. A faint hiss ahead of them grew louder as they crept forward, and, after another minute, they arrived at a rushing torrent of black water. They eyed the current and Sam directed his beam beyond it. “Looks like this continues on the other side. But the water’s moving pretty fast.”
“The good news is, it’s not that wide,” Remi said.
Lazlo frowned. “The bad news is, I haven’t swum since I was a teenager.”
Sam glanced at him. “It’s like riding a bike.”
“Haven’t done that in forever, either.”
“I don’t see any way around it,” Sam said. “Remi? Hand me the rope.”
Remi did as asked. “No telling how deep it is.”
“It’s only the last few inches that’ll kill you.”
“Very comforting, Fargo. Be careful.”
He uncoiled the rope. “You and Lazlo hold on to this end. Wish me luck.”
The sound of angry voices reverberated from the other end of the cave. Sam frowned and quickly tied one end of the line around his waist. “Here goes nothing.”
The water was surprisingly cold and stronger than he’d imagined. Almost immediately, it pulled at his ankles like an angry dog. The soles of his boots slipped along the smooth stone riverbed, polished by thousands of years of rushing torrent, and he fought to stay upright as he inched farther into the current. Spray splashed his thighs as he tested the bottom, moving cautiously, and then suddenly the current pulled him down and he was tumbling into the river, stunned by the force.
Water rushed into his nose and mouth and he choked as he lost his bearings, the lack of light now deadly. He fought to reach the surface, thrashing with all his might — but in the dark there was no hint of which way the surface was.
The cord went taut, stopping him from being washed into oblivion. Remi and Lazlo had reacted quickly and were holding him — but even their combined strength wouldn’t be a match for the river for long.
Sam’s arm broke from the water and he pulled himself upward, battling the rushing froth as his head shot into the air. He gasped as he struggled to cross to the far side, the surge pulling him toward where the water disappeared beneath a limestone drop. He fought its powerful draw with steady strokes, as Remi and Lazlo fed out line, the river a roar in his ears, and then light played across the darkness — Remi was shining her flashlight on the far bank to guide him.
Sam’s knee bashed against rock and his leg went numb. Just then, his fingers felt cold stone — he’d made it to the other side. He scrabbled onto the bank, sensation returning to his leg, with a throbbing in his knee, and he lay on his back, catching his breath.
His relief was interrupted by an urgent tug on the rope. He looked across the water where Remi stood — he’d been washed ten yards downstream in the blink of an eye. She gestured to the area behind her and cut her light, plunging the cave into darkness. Sam understood. Their pursuers were coming and she didn’t want to offer any clues to which passage they’d taken.