He took a gun from his waterproof bag, saw a door and slipped through it.
A minute later the police boat pulled up to the yacht.
Nicolas Creel graciously welcomed the uniformed officer onto the deck and spoke with him in the man’s native tongue. The officer seemed embarrassed, apologetic to be bothering the rich man. Creel offered him a glass of wine and asked him how he could help.
The policeman said that it had been reported to them from shore that a very angry woman had boarded a launch to come out to the yacht. “We saw a launch pass, but we saw it was Mrs. Creel so we let it go. Then we got a description of the angry woman and it turned out it was your wife.” The man looked embarrassed and said awkwardly, “So we came here to see if all… was all right, sir.”
Creel laughed and thanked the man for his concern. “My wife is a bit tipsy, yes, but not remotely dangerous. In fact, I can say without reservation that she will never harm anyone.”
“You are sure?”
“Quite. I’m only sorry you had to come all this way for nothing.”
“No trouble at all, Mr. Creel.”
As the man stepped back onto his boat, Creel gave him a little salute.
Shaw made his way down into the bowels of the ship and was surprised he didn’t run into anyone along the way. The absence of crew didn’t make him feel better, only more paranoid that he was being set up. That caution paid off because he hesitated for a split second before rounding a corner. An armed man walked past, and a second later collapsed to the floor with a cracked skull.
Shaw kept moving, eyeing the tracker on his wrist. He was getting closer to Katie. But the transmitter couldn’t tell him if she was still alive. A pang of guilt hit him squarely in the chest. He never should have asked her to do this, even if she wanted to. There were so many ways for it to all go wrong.
He reached a set of double doors and opened one. Staring back at him was a lavishly decorated theater. As he kept going down the hall he smelled chlorine. He opened a door, and the smell intensified.
The owner of this floating city had an indoor pool.
He felt the presence before he saw the person.
Shaw and the man collided, and the impact sent them both into the water. One of the man’s arms encircled Shaw’s neck. He grabbed his attacker’s hand and his finger was nicked by the knife the man was holding.
Shaw bent the fellow’s wrist back, breaking it. He seized the knife, swung it around, and felt it sink into the man’s side. The grip around his neck loosened. Shaw made another stab to the man’s chest and kicked free.
As he climbed out of the pool, he watched the body sink to the bottom, the water now clouded red.
Fortunately, he’d lost his gun before he’d gone into the pool. He snagged it, ripped open the door, and raced out.
And stopped dead.
Royce leveled his pistol at him. “That was too easy. I’m hardly impressed, Shaw. Now drop the gun.”
Dripping wet Shaw did so and muttered, “How’s it feel to be a dirty cop, Royce?”
“When I didn’t show with James I guess you knew all you needed to know.”
“No, I figured it out before.”
Royce cocked his head, unease settling across his features. “How?”
“It won’t matter to you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll be dead.”
Royce waved his pistol, regaining his confidence. “You really are a damn fool. Well, I’m sure you want to see little Katie, so let’s go. We’ll do you together. She’s in the submarine,” he added jauntily. “How about that? The man’s got his own bloody sub. Now that’s real power.”
Shaw brushed his hand against his belt, depressing a tiny dimple there that sent out a distress signal to Frank.
“But I will let you in on one thing, Royce.”
“Really? What’s that?” Royce said, sneering.
“Did you ever bother checking your watch? Because we put a bug on it.”
Royce shot a glance at the timepiece on his wrist.
The next instant he was clutching his chest where the hilt of the knife stuck out, the blood from his burst heart already flooding the chest cavity. He looked back at Shaw.
“Impressed now?” said Shaw.
As Royce dropped to the floor, Shaw was already past him heading to the sub. And Katie.
The belly of the Shiloh was a series of huge hangars, the thirty-five-ton submarine parked in dry dock in the center of one of them. Shaw watched the men standing guard. There were three of them, one even larger than Shaw with long black curly hair. A radio buzzed in the hand of the big man. He listened, said something Shaw couldn’t hear, and he and the two other men hurried off.
Shaw clambered on top of the sub, lifted the hatch, and dropped down inside. He searched as quickly as he could. When he saw the arm and legs of a woman sticking out from under a bench near the rear of the vessel, he felt his heart nearly stop. When he pulled the woman out and saw the blonde hair, he felt paralyzed. When he realized it wasn’t Katie he started breathing again. Then he saw the body bag and it all hit him again. He unzipped it with shaky fingers.
Then he heard another sound. The men were coming back.
CHAPTER 97
“TAKE HER OUT OF HERE NOW. And bury her in the excavation pit for the orphanage,” Creel instructed the two men who held the body bag between them. “Put her in a box. I’ll arrange everything at the construction site. I’ll tell them it’s a time capsule. Where’s Royce?” he asked Caesar.
“Around here somewhere.”
One of the men said, “Do you want us to kill her first, Mr. Creel?”
“No, I want her to wake up and realize she’s been buried alive. They say there’s no greater fear in humankind. I want her to feel that horror.”
The body bag was loaded on the launch and the men set off.
Caesar said to Creel, “What now?”
“Now you disappear. Until the next time.”
“I don’t think so.”
They slowly turned. Shaw was standing there pointing a gun at them.
Creel flinched as he saw who it was, but then quickly recovered. “They call you Shaw, don’t they?” Shaw said nothing. “I know of your connection to this matter so I doubt money will induce you to go away.” Shaw still said nothing. “So it seems that we’re at an impasse,” Creel concluded.
He pointed his gun at Creel’s head. “I don’t see it that way.”
“Mr. Creel?”
The captain was staring fearfully at them from the steps leading to the top deck.
Shaw took his gaze off the two men just for an instant. It was still too long.
The shot fired by Caesar burned a crease along the side of his head.
Shaw instantly rolled to his left and placed four compact shots of return fire.
Creel had already taken up hiding behind the bar area while Caesar was seeking higher ground to get a better shooting angle. Shaw sent those plans awry when he nailed the man in the foot. Caesar emptied his clip at Shaw. A moment later while Shaw was lining up his killing shot, his gun jammed.
Caesar dragged himself up the stairs with Shaw right behind. The two giants squared off on the top deck. After a few jabs to test the other’s defenses, Caesar landed a shot to Shaw’s injured but numbed arm and got a blow to the gut for his troubles. He next tried a headlong charge and his superior weight carried Shaw off his feet and the two men flew against the bridge console. Caesar grabbed hold of Shaw’s shirt, nearly ripping it off. Shaw tried to take out the man’s legs, but Caesar, showing considerable agility for a man his size and despite the wound in his foot, jumped out of reach and then attacked.
He gripped Shaw around the neck and started to squeeze. Shaw got a hand in under Caesar’s chin and tried to lever his head back. But Caesar ducked under Shaw’s grasp, spun behind him, and got him in a chokehold.