Blind Run (26 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

AFTER GATHERING DANNY
and his laptop, Ethan turned the
Sea Devil
north. They headed toward Anacortes, a town on Fidalgo Island and the jump-off point to the San Juan Islands. Normally the trip took six hours, but Ethan planned for at least eight. He was traveling unfamiliar waters in the dark and knew better than to push it.

As Ethan maneuvered away from the docks of the Duwamish River and toward Elliott Bay, Danny seemed unusually quiet. Ethan had expected a stream of questions about Rio, the boat, or their agenda in Anacortes. Normally the boy never shut up, and Ethan had become accustomed to the constant chatter. The unexpected silence worried him.

“Go below and get some rest,” he said. “It’s going to be a long night.”

“I want to stay here.” Danny stared out at the dark water, his expression grim.

“It’ll be okay,” Ethan said, taking a stab at what was bothering the boy. “We’ll get Callie back.”

For the first time since boarding the
Sea Devil
, Danny looked Ethan full in the eye. “I know you’ll try.”

Ethan curbed his automatic impulse to offer reassurance. Danny had a firm grip on reality and knew they were heading straight into the devil’s lair, with little more than their wits and nerve to pull them through. It made no sense to try to convince him otherwise.

So Ethan left him alone.

They made the rest of the trip in silence—Danny nodding off occasionally but never giving into sleep—and arrived in Anacortes midmorning. The sky had turned gray and overcast, reflecting both their moods. Ethan hoped the weather wouldn’t deteriorate further as the day aged. A storm would complicate and jeopardize his plans.

He checked them into a beachside motel, and after securing the room’s doors and windows, collapsed on the bed. “I need a couple of hours’ sleep before making the final arrangements,” he said. “You might try to get some, too.”

Closing his eyes, he waited for the squeak of the other mattress. Danny lay down, but for some time tossed and turned, struggling with his demons. Ethan wished Sydney were here, she’d know how to ease Danny’s mind, while Ethan merely waited for the boy’s exhaustion to win out.

Finally the room quieted, and Ethan relaxed.

He’d never needed much sleep, not more than four or five hours at a stretch, but he wouldn’t undertake a mission tired. Exhausted men made mistakes, and he’d need to be sharp this afternoon when he secured the final component of his plan.

Marco Ramirez.

ETHAN WAS COUNTING ON
Ramirez still being in Anacortes.

The assassin hadn’t survived this long by being careless or stupid. “The island is heavily guarded,” he’d told Ethan in Champaign. “Or I would already have my answers.”

“Are you asking for my help?”

“Penetrating such a place is your specialty.”

“Forget it, Ramirez. You and I are more likely to kill each other.”

“Perhaps.” Ramirez had shrugged. “But if you change your mind, I’ll be around. Just don’t wait too long,
amigo
. I am a patient man, but I grow tired of this game.”

Now, less than a week later, the world had tipped upside down and Ethan planned to enlist Ramirez’s help to raid Haven Island. All it had taken was Cox holding a gun on Sydney, and Ethan’s hate for Ramirez had become secondary. Ethan would go in alone if necessary, but Ramirez would greatly increase the odds of success. If Ethan could find him, and he hadn’t changed his mind.

Anacortes was a picturesque waterfront town, but even postcard towns had an underside. Ethan started with the bars closest to the water, where Ramirez would leave a trail if he wanted Ethan to find him.

An hour later he walked into Joe’s Place, a clone of the other three bars Ethan had checked out first. It was dark, with the smell of stale beer and cigarettes permeating the room. A couple of men, tattoos running up both arms, circled the single pool table. An old woman, alone in a corner booth, nursed a drink. And a couple of regulars watched a basketball game on television.

Ethan took the stool farthest from the door and ordered a beer. When the bartender brought it, Ethan pulled a roll of bills from his jacket pocket. “You Joe?”

“Yeah, so?”

Peeling off a hundred, Ethan laid it on the bar. “I’m looking for a friend.”

The man snorted. “Aren’t we all?”

“A good friend.” Ethan withdrew a second hundred and dropped it on top of the first. “Latino, a little under six feet, big tipper.”

Joe eyed the bills. “We get lots of Mexicans in here.”

“This one’s different.” Ethan fiddled with the roll in his hand, flicking the corner of another hundred. “He keeps to himself.” He saw the recognition in the bartender’s eyes, and the sudden fear. “Doesn’t drink much, just sits and watches.”

Joe hesitated, then dragged his gaze from the money. “Sorry, don’t know him, and I can’t break no hundred. If you don’t got nothin’ smaller, the beer’s on the house.” Turning, he walked away.

Ethan sipped his beer, smiling to himself.

Old Joe was definitely uneasy, glancing back as he refilled drinks at the other end of the bar. So, Ramirez had not only been here but came in regularly enough to make the natives nervous. Ethan had found the assassin’s calling card.

After dropping a couple of singles on the bar, Ethan headed for the door. “Thanks, Joe.”

The man nodded, the relief on his face almost humorous. And premature. Whether he knew it or not, he
would
help his newest customer. It would just take some persuading. Too bad. Ethan would have preferred parting with the money.

Outside, he surveyed the neighborhood. Fortunately, it was the kind of area where everyone minded their own business. He headed down the street, then cut over a block and worked his way to the back of Joe’s Place.

Like a lot of restaurants and bars, the rear entrance had no outside handle. It opened from the inside with a push bar. Not the easiest barrier to get through without the proper tools.

Ethan looked for an alternative entry point and found an open window into the men’s room. He hoisted himself through and dropped to the dingy floor. The place was filthy. No wonder Joe wasn’t worried about anyone getting in this way.

Ethan moved to the door and cracked it just enough to see the hallway beyond. The corridor was long and narrow, with the outside door at one end and the entrance to the bar at the other. Along one side was the storeroom, and opposite it were both rest rooms and a pay phone. Withdrawing his knife, he slipped out and sank into the shadows of the far corner.

Now all he had to do was wait. Unless he missed his guess, Joe would be heading this way real soon.

It was one of Ramirez’s favorite ploys. He’d stake out a likely location and give the locals a number, asking them to call if anything interesting happened. He didn’t bribe or even threaten them, but his presence was enough to scare them into cooperating, giving him eyes and ears in a variety of places.

Ethan figured Joe’s was no different.

It had been about fifteen minutes since Ethan had left by the front door. Anytime now he expected the bartender to head for the john. He’d think he was fooling everyone by waiting and using the pay phone instead of the one behind the bar.

Sure enough, Ethan didn’t have long to wait before Joe showed, heading straight for the phone without noticing Ethan in the far corner. Joe picked up the receiver, dropped a quarter into the coin slot, and punched in a couple of numbers. Three strides, and Ethan reached over the bartender’s shoulder and pushed the disconnect button.

“Hey—” Joe half turned.

Ethan slammed him face first against the wall, pressing the unopened knife against his spine. “Hello, Joe. Remember me?”

One of the pool players stepped into the doorway, cue in hand. “What’s going on here?”

“Just a friendly chat.” Ethan shifted to reveal the Glock under his arm. “So why don’t you let us get back to it?”

Raising his hands, the pool player backed up. “Hey man, I ain’t got no argument with you.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” Ethan said.

“Sure thing.” The man disappeared, and a couple of seconds later the slam of the front door reached the dim hallway.

“Looks like your customers have decided to give us some privacy,” Ethan said.

“He’ll call the cops.”

“He didn’t look much like the good-citizen type to me.”

A sheen of sweat broke out on Joe’s forehead. “What do you want?”

“Like I said, I’m looking for a friend of mine.”

“I told you I don’t—”

Ethan snapped open the blade and lifted it to Joe’s cheek. “Want to try that again?”

“He’ll kill me if I tell you.”

“Looks like you’re in a tough spot.”

Joe licked his lips. “I don’t know nothing about him. He’s been in every night for the last week. He has a beer or two, but doesn’t drink them, then leaves. That’s all I know.”

“Who were you calling?”

“Please.” Joe tried to turn, but Ethan held him against the wall.

“Come on, Joe.” Ethan could smell the man’s fear. “Let’s not drag this out.”

“He told me you’d come looking for him, said to call when you came in.”

Ethan loosened his grip just a bit. “Give me the number.”

The man fumbled in his shirt pocket and pulled out a business card. Ethan snatched it and saw the number scrawled on the back. “Are you sure you’re not trying to pull something on me, Joe?”

“That’s what he gave me, I swear.”

“Then I’ll save you the trouble of making that call.”

“Look, don’t tell where you got that number. He’ll kill me if he finds out.”

“I don’t think so.” Ethan stepped back, releasing his grip on the man’s neck. “As you said, he’s expecting me. Now, why don’t you stay here and count to fifty, and I’ll be on my way.”

Joe didn’t move as Ethan lowered the knife and backed toward the exit. Once outside, he closed the blade and dropped it into his pocket. A few blocks over, he pulled out Anna’s cell phone and punched in the number on the back of the card.

Ramirez picked up on the third ring.
“Sí?”

“I hear you’re expecting me.”

Soft laughter rippled across the line. “You are so predictable,
amigo.
”

“Hey, I found you without breaking a sweat. What does that make you?”

“I wanted you to find me.”

“Look,” Ethan said. “I don’t have time for a pissing contest. You said you wanted on that island, well so do I.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Cox grabbed Sydney and the girl.”

“And you want them back.”

“I want to expose him and that gulag he’s running.” Ethan switched the phone to his other ear and glanced around. No one seemed to have any interest in him. “And yeah, I want Sydney and the girl freed.”

“What about the boy?”

“He’s out of it.”

“So, now you want my help. How quickly things change.”

Ethan gritted his teeth, then forced himself to say, “Cox promised to release Sydney if I delivered you. So, I thought you might oblige me by giving yourself up.”

Ramirez laughed again. “He means to kill us all, you know.”

“He won’t be the first to try.”

Ramirez let the silence stretch for a few long moments. “Okay, when and where?”

“Come to the marina tonight at midnight. Look for the
Sea Devil
.”

“I will be there.”

“Don’t be late.” Ethan disconnected and slipped the phone into his jacket pocket.

The last piece was in place.

WHEN DANNY WOKE,
Ethan was gone.

For the second time in two days, he’d left Danny alone in a crummy motel room, and he hated it. It gave him too much time to think. As they’d headed west from Chicago, he’d thought only about getting Callie away from the Keepers. Then in Seattle, reality had dug a hole in his stomach. He was going back to Haven Island, and he was scared.

He abandoned his attempt to work on the computer and went to the window. Looking out at the bleak northwest weather, he remembered the hawk in the desert. If he had a choice, that’s where he’d be right now, with the hot sun beating down on his head and the horizon stretching forever in all directions. Here, the damp air chilled him, and the sea threatened to confine him.

He didn’t want to go back to the Haven.

He wasn’t proud of it, but his fear had grown as they’d gotten closer to Anacortes. He kept telling himself that Callie and the others needed him, were depending on him to bring help. Even Ethan trusted him. He couldn’t let them down, but if the Keepers caught him . . . He shuddered at the thought.

He didn’t want to be the next kid to disappear.

By the time Ethan returned, it was late afternoon.

“Everything’s set,” he said. “If things go right tonight, you and Callie will be back together before the sun comes up.”

After that, they didn’t talk much. Ethan seemed withdrawn, pulling into himself as he prepared for the night ahead. Danny wanted to ask about their plans, how Ethan intended to get on the island and rescue Callie and Sydney, but something held him back. He suspected his reluctance had something to do with not wanting to admit he was scared.

In order to keep a low profile, they ate in the room, picking up fast food and bringing it back. Afterward, Ethan handed him an overstuffed envelope.

“What is it?” Danny turned the envelope over, examining the tight seal.

“In case I don’t come back.”

Danny looked at him, confused.

“If I’m not back within eight hours, I want you to run. Find a way to the Canadian border. It’s not far, fifty, maybe sixty miles. Go to Vancouver. You’ll find everything you need in that envelope: money and an introductory letter to a friend of mine. We served together in Special Ops, he’ll take care of you.”

Danny dropped the envelope and backed up. “No.”

“Take it, Danny.”

“I’m going with you.” Despite his fear, it had never occurred to him that Ethan would leave him behind. Not after all they’d been through and all the planning over the last five days. He was part of this.

“It’s too dangerous,” Ethan said.

Danny’s eyes smarted. “And staying here is safer?”