Blind Run (28 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

SOMETHING WOKE HIM.

Sitting upright, Paul listened. He heard a voice speaking through a bullhorn—though he couldn’t make out the words—and the low putt of an approaching engine. Curious, he slipped from bed and made his way toward the front room of his private bungalow. Edging up to the window, he scrutinized the activity near the water.

Despite the late hour, lights blazed, highlighting the landing and searching the black waters of the inlet. The newly arrived boat lolled against its moorings. Morrow, flanked by several of his thugs, stood on the docks, talking to the craft’s captain.

Paul hurried back to the bedroom.

Several days ago, he’d found Danny’s electronic trail, threading its way through the Haven’s system. After setting up firewalls to prevent him from accessing the children’s records, Paul had let the boy roam. This time, however, he hadn’t made the mistake of mentioning it to Cox. It had soon become obvious that Danny was gathering information about the island, maybe to pass on to someone planning a rescue attempt. Paul had experienced a rush of hope, because succeed or fail, a raid on the island might give him one last chance to escape.

Without turning on the lights, he rummaged along the top shelf of his closet. He’d hidden his clothes behind a stack of extra blankets, hoping the cleaning crew wouldn’t find them. His hands closed on the soft bundle, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Quickly, he pulled on the dark clothes: black slacks and turtleneck, a heavy sweater, boots, and gloves.

Next, he retrieved the soft overnight bag from beneath his bed. He’d packed it the day Danny and Callie had disappeared and he had been tempted to pull it out more than once. Something had always stopped him; now he was out of time. If he failed to get away tonight, they would kill him for sure. Whether they caught him fleeing, or because Cox no longer needed him, dead was dead. Running was no longer a risk, or a choice.

Bag in hand, he went to the bathroom and lifted the lid off the toilet tank. Inside was a handgun—he didn’t even remember what kind—stored in a plastic bag and taped to the side. He’d bought it years ago, never expecting to need it. Or so he’d told himself. Although some part of him must have known that he’d eventually have to run.

He slipped the gun into his pocket, then returned to the living room and took up his position near the window.

Now the real test, getting away from the bungalow.

Since Morrow had shown up with Callie and Sydney Decker, Cox’s men had kept Paul under constant watch. They escorted him to and from his office and assigned a guard to stand outside his door. Morrow had said it was for his safety, but Paul knew better.

Movement brought Paul’s attention back to the docks. Morrow and a couple of his men led two people from the boat toward the front entrance, one of them was Danny. Paul hadn’t expected that: He’d thought the boy would stay behind. Two other of Morrow’s soldiers boarded the boat. But whatever was about to happen, Paul was ready. All he needed was a distraction, just a few seconds to slip out the door.

MARCO FELT THE BOAT
rock as the two men boarded her.

They descended into the cabin, opening cabinets, drawers, storage compartments, and dumping the contents. On his back beneath them, Marco aimed the Beretta upward. If they found the latch to the smuggler’s hold and opened it, he’d make them pay. That is, if they didn’t riddle the deck with bullets first.

They took their time, banging around the cabin like a team of gorillas. Marco waited patiently, eager to put a bullet between a pair of dull eyes. He could imagine the first man’s surprise as he faced his death. Killing the second man would be a contest of speed, a question of who wanted to live more.

Suddenly they left, cursing vividly about Morrow’s heritage as they deserted the cabin, the boat swaying again as they scurried off her. Marco frowned. He’d actually warmed to the idea of taking on the two clowns. It would have screwed up Decker’s carefully orchestrated plan, but it might have been worth it.

Tentatively, he pressed the release lever to shift the couch overhead. Then he waited: twenty seconds for the sound of returning feet.

Nothing.

He lifted the lid off his hiding place and shimmied out, staying close to the floor and clear of the portholes. He tucked the handguns into their holsters, slung the bag of explosives over his shoulder, and claimed the Remington from the hold. It was a nice piece, and he took a moment to stroke the walnut stock. He would enjoy using it. Too bad he didn’t have time to get off a round or two before all hell broke loose.

Keeping low, he went topside and inched his way to the railing. He spotted only one man patrolling the area, which didn’t mean there weren’t others lurking about. From the waterfront, the land sloped upward across a wide expanse of open space to a building complex, backed by a wall of trees. And smack in the middle of the front yard was a landing pad, complete with helicopter.

Marco smiled.

Decker had identified several permanent fixtures for his little light show, but Marco thought he might improvise a bit. He’d start with the other two boats. They’d provide a nice prelude for things to come, while drawing Cox’s men into the open.

He waited until the solitary guard had passed the
Sea Devil
, then Marco eased over the side. Slipping from shadow to shadow, he crossed to the nearest boat and flattened himself on the rough wooden dock beside it. He secured a lump of C4 to the hull just above the waterline, attaching a receiver with an electric blasting cap so he could trigger the explosion remotely. Again he had to wait for the guard to move off, then he repeated the procedure on the second boat.

Taking out the guard was the next step.

The man didn’t even see it coming. He stopped to light a cigarette, bending away from the breeze that lifted off the water. Marco jumped him from behind, snapping his neck with one quick twist, and lowered the body silently into the inky water.

Marco set the third charge on the gas pump at the far end of the landing, one of Decker’s targets. Then Marco darted ashore, skirting the tree line as he worked his way toward the helicopter pad and watched for more of Cox’s men.

Where were they?

Once Decker had shown up, Cox should have pulled them in from whatever remote corners of the island they patrolled. As if in answer to his question, a half dozen men carrying Uzis exited the woods. They scattered to various sentry positions around the building: two to flank the building’s entrance, another couple to the docks, a fifth to the helicopter pad, and the last inside.

Things were beginning to get interesting.

Marco circled behind the landing pad, used the chopper to cover his approach, and dispensed with the guard in the same manner as the one on the docks. He dragged the body into the woods, then returned to set the fourth charge.

That left only Decker’s main objective: a small concrete bunker near the main building. Marco gave the other men a wide berth as he edged his way toward his objective. He had to admit, the structure with its power wires sprouting like weeds from its roof would make a spectacular finale.

After setting the last charge, it was only a matter of timing. He returned to the woods and took up his position on a small rise overlooking the facility and its small marina. He placed the transmitter within easy reach and set his sights on one of the men outside the facility’s double glass doors. When the fireworks started, he’d be the first to die.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

ETHAN PAID CAREFUL ATTENTION
as Morrow’s men escorted him and Danny through the facility. He mentally checked off corridors and offices from Danny’s drawings and descriptions. The boy had an eye for detail and hadn’t missed much. Ethan guessed they were headed for a conference room buried deep within the building.

A few minutes later, Morrow confirmed Ethan’s hunch.

Ethan sized up the room. “Not bad. One door and no windows.” He’d have used this location himself if his and Morrow’s positions had been reversed. “Is it soundproof?”

“Sit.” Morrow indicated a chair against the far wall. “You, too, kid. Cox is on his way.”

Ethan dropped into the chair. “You didn’t have to wake him, did you?”

Morrow scowled and walked out, leaving behind two of his men. But Ethan doubted Cox’s lapdog had gone farther than the other side of the door. He would stay close, keeping an eye on his prize.

Ethan scrutinized the guards. They didn’t look too bright, but then, brains weren’t a job requirement for mercenaries. Hopefully the two tearing the
Sea Devil
apart weren’t the exception. Because if they found Ramirez, this charade would end real quick.

Everything hung on the smuggler’s hold.

The irony of that didn’t escape him. There was something almost humorous about men like him and Ramirez relying on a criminal device for survival.

Glancing at Danny, he gave the kid a tight smile. The boy was holding up well, which wasn’t surprising. He’d proved himself more than once over the last week.

Cox walked into the room. “Well, this is a twist.” He barely glanced at the boy before settling his gaze on Ethan. “I expected more finesse from you.”

“Sorry, I’m fresh out.”

Cox frowned. “Where’s Ramirez?”

“Do you think I’m stupid enough to bring him with me?”

“Don’t play games with me, Decker.”

“No games.” Ethan held up his hands, palms out. “You have the kid and I have Ramirez. He’s all yours, once Sydney and I are safely off this rock.”

Cox turned to Morrow. “Bring her.”

Morrow looked ready to object. “What about the boy?”

“Leave him for now.”

As Morrow left, Ethan stretched out in the expensive leather chair. “I have to congratulate you, Avery, I didn’t know you were so devious.”

Cox ignored him.

“Putting Morrow on my team to kill Ramirez was a good move.” Ethan nodded his approval. “Too bad it didn’t work, it would have saved us all a lot of trouble. Instead the kid dies, and you end up with the Agency’s top assassin on a rampage. Talk about bad luck.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? George Taleb, or should I say James Cooley, runs from the island with one of your precious children. But you can’t allow them to get away. They know too much. So you send in Ramirez, but he doesn’t take care of the kid.”

“I misjudged you, Ethan.” Cox settled into a conference chair and folded his hands. “You have quite an imagination.”

“How long have you been looking for Ramirez without success? Three years? So you decide to pull me back into the game to do your dirty work. Not bad. A bit inconvenient for me, but a good strategy on your part.”

“You talk too much.”

“Funny, I said that same thing to Ramirez not more than,” he glanced at his watch, “a couple of hours ago.”

The door opened, and Morrow shoved Sydney into the room.

Relief flooded her eyes when she spotted Ethan, then she saw Danny. “Oh, no.”

“Kill her,” Cox said flatly.

All color fled her face. “What—”

“Sorry about this, Doc.” Morrow grabbed her arm, pulling her back and pressing a gun to her head.

“If you shoot her . . .” Ethan put ice in his voice and called Cox’s bluff. “You’ll never get Ramirez.”

Cox seemed to consider. “Maybe I should kill the boy instead.” He drew a pocket Colt from his jacket and pointed it at Danny.

Next to Ethan, Danny flinched.

“No,” Sydney pleaded. “Ethan, do something.”

“You won’t hurt him, either. He’s worth too much alive.”

Cox studied Ethan a moment, then lowered his gun. “You’re right.” His eyes hardened, his smile turning deadly. “Morrow, take out her kneecaps, one at a time.”

Morrow grinned and took aim.

“Wait.” Ethan lifted his hands. “You’ve made your point.” Hopefully he’d bought Ramirez enough time.

“Where is he?” Cox asked.

“On the boat.”

Cox looked at Morrow, who shook his head. “We searched it.”

“He’s there,” Ethan assured them. “Your goons didn’t look hard enough.”

“Take a couple of men and make sure.” Cox grabbed Sydney’s arm and dragged her into the chair next to his. “I can handle Dr. Decker and her errant husband.”

Morrow left, and Ethan looked at Sydney. She was pale, but her eyes betrayed her anger. Good. Because no matter how things went with Ramirez and the boat, she’d need her anger to get through the next few hours.

“You know what I still haven’t figured out?” Ethan said. Cox looked bored. “I thought you had all the answers.”

“How did you get Anna to go along with the children’s escape, when she knew Ramirez was hunting her?”

Cox laughed. “You never were as smart as you thought you were, Decker.” He relaxed in his chair, his expression smug. “I had nothing to do with Anna’s decision to run with the kids. She came up with that brilliant idea all by herself. Pretty stupid of her, don’t you think?”

Ethan struggled to keep his anger in check. Like Ethan, Anna had been recruited, trained, and used by Cox. He owed her more than a flippant account of the mistake that had killed her.

“Opportunity knocked, I acted.” Cox waved a dismissive hand toward Danny. “Because you’re right, that boy and his sister are far too valuable to run free, even to bring down Marco Ramirez.”

Ethan scooted forward in his chair. “Why, so you can use them like lab rats?”

Cox ignored the question. “As you said, it would have been more expedient if you’d just gone after Ramirez when he killed your son.”

Ethan froze.

Across the room, the last bit of color drained from Sydney’s face.

“Oh, I see.” Cox turned to her. “You didn’t know.”

Ethan gripped the chair arms. “Cox.”

“You know, Dr. Decker.” Cox radiated charm, taking Sydney’s hand and patting it. “I believe honesty is always the best policy in a marriage, don’t you?”

Sydney, obviously dazed, looked at Ethan.

“You see,” Cox continued, “your son’s death wasn’t an accident.” He shot Ethan a satisfied smile. “Someone murdered him.”

Her eyes begged Ethan to deny it.

“There was a certain logic to it,” Cox said. “Your husband . . . Excuse me, your ex-husband, killed a child under Marco Ramirez’s protection. So in Marco’s mind, it was fair retribution to take your son.”

Sydney seemed to sink into herself.

Ethan lunged to his feet, but the guards snapped to attention, weapons drawn, and stopped him cold. “You son of a bitch.”

Cox smiled.

The next instant, an explosion wiped it from his face.