Off Course (24 page)

With the dive light on low beam, Collin dropped under water and headed toward the boat. A wall of silvery fish parted like a curtain as he kicked and pulled himself toward the submerged vessel. As he approached, the sounds coming from the
Admiral
were haunting. A low moan, followed by a splintering sound, permeated the water.

Western Caribbean Sea, 2 miles north-northwest of Providencia Island

June 15, 10:34 p.m. Caribbean Time

Collin had no time to think or worry. He knew what he had to do, dangerous as it was, and knew why the risk was necessary. Nonetheless, the noises coming from the leaning boat gave him pause. Switching the beam on the light to high as he approached the sunken hull, he was alarmed by the angle at which the boat slanted downhill. Time was running out. He swam straight to the open doorway of the upside-down cabin he had escaped from two hours earlier. Clouds had moved in again to obscure nearly all light from the moon and stars overhead. Twelve feet underwater felt like a closet. An inky blackness enveloped the space he had occupied for most of the last three days, making it as dark a place as he had ever been.

Getting inside proved to be a tight squeeze through the hatch door with the tank and dive gear on, complicated by the surging tide. Once inside the cabin, he realized all the lights were now out. The flashlight’s beam created an eerie, turquoise glow as it reflected off the white fiberglass walls and ceiling.

Moving cautiously through the inverted cabin, he swept his light left, then right to orient himself. As he rotated to his left, and swept the light farther, the grayish-blue skin of Stinky’s bloated face surged at his, bumping into his cheek, as the boat rocked to its starboard side. The wide open eyes and ghastly expression of terror made Collin jump back and scream through his regulator in an explosion of massive bubbles. He turned away and shut his eyes and used the nearest object he could find to push the body toward the front of the cabin.

Despite knowing Stinky’s body was still nearby, it surprised him with its sudden appearance. Collin’s heart hammered in his chest and his breathing was out of control. As Collin worked to regain his composure and slow his breathing, he stared at the lifeless corpse. Something inside him drew his attention to the body. Was it morbid curiosity or some sort of sick pleasure in seeing the man he had killed? Was it a primal need to glory in his triumph over the mercilessness and evil that Stinky had come to represent?

No, it was something else, something more substantial. It was as if Stinky was posthumously taunting him with a secret. A scene flashed in Collin’s memory: Stinky holding the phone in front of Collin’s face as Penh spoke with his mom and Emily. His jaw muscles tightened and his stomach quivered at the thought. But he replayed the scene again. His mind was drawn to something else, something beyond the image on the screen. The phone call. That was it. The phone. That phone had been in contact with Penh. That phone could be a treasure trove of useful information that Lukas could use. Yes, he needed that phone.

Wasting no time, Collin swam toward the bloated mass as it moved away from him. He grabbed one of its ankles. The squishiness of its flesh made him convulse, but he kept dragging it toward him, manipulating it until he was digging through the pockets and at last extracting the phone in its waterproof case.

Collin stuffed the phone in his own pocket as he pinched his eyes shut and fought back the urge to regurgitate.

His next thought was of the Colombians and how they may be patrolling the area again soon. Collin went straight to the secret compartment where he had stashed his sea bag that still contained cash and other items he used to live his fugitive life. These things would all be necessary, he thought, so he pulled the bag out and set it down next to him. Lukas never mentioned the money, but as long as he was here, there was no sense in leaving behind half a million dollars in cash.

Now he had to find the laptop. Think, where did he see it last? He remembered watching Long Hair deposit the computer in a nylon gym bag, but the bag wasn’t readily visible.

As he began to paw through the debris scattered across the ceiling, somehow the boat felt even more unstable than it had prior to his escape. Each wave that slammed against the side of the hull caused it to rock harder and move more fluidly than before. There was more motion inside. The debris piled on the ceiling had rolled to one side, creating mounds stacked up against the walls on the downhill side of the boat, adding to its instability. Collin struggled to hold himself in place close to the ceiling below him as he searched through the litter. The wave action kept knocking him off balance.

Collin searched the entire cabin for the nylon bag. It was nowhere to be found. Panic began to build. It wasn’t safe in the boat; he could feel it. Then he thought about the closet next to the bunk. That’s where Long Hair had stashed it before, so he tried it. It did not open easily. The jarring turmoil to which the boat had been subjected had lodged a bevy of heavy objects against the door, blocking its intended movement. By shifting some of the items around, Collin was able to grab the edge of the door as it popped open just wide enough to insert his fingers and pry. As he applied leverage, gradually pressing with all of his strength, the boat teetered harder than ever into the rocks and Collin lost his grip and drifted back into the cabin with the current. He repositioned himself and went at it again with the same result. His fingers weren’t strong enough to lever open the door with all the weight pressing against it.

He stopped and tried to think through the problem. Moving the heap of items would take too long and use up all of his air. Since he wasn’t positive the bag was in there, he didn’t want to spend all that time for nothing. That’s when he remembered the Captain’s rifles under the bunk. He levered that compartment open, caught one of the rifles as it dropped through the opening, and moved back into position. With renewed zeal, he approached the closet and searched for a way to put pressure on the door in just the right place. Finding it awkward to maneuver with the fins on his feet, he removed them. With his booted feet, he was easily able to get in a position where he could use his legs for maximum strength as he held the rifle in place like a crow bar and exerted force upward and outward until there was just enough movement to allow Collin to insert an arm into the gap, push outward a little more, and shine his light inside the closet. The nylon gym bag’s fluorescent striping gleamed, so he pried a little more until he could grasp a handful of the gym bag, and yank it from its pinned position. He continued to tug and pull until one edge of the bag poked through the opening. With both hands firmly gripping the corners of the bag, Collin again used his feet and legs and heaved with all his might until the bag broke through the door.

As he pulled the gym bag free from its lodging, there was a frightful crashing sound reverberating through the water. He hurriedly stuffed the rubbery sea bag into the mostly empty gym bag. As he did so, Collin realized it was more than just the breaking of the door hinge. Something had come loose with all of his prying and yanking. His weight and exertion, along with the power of the ocean waves, had snapped something and the entire boat was now dislodged and tumbling through space. Collin sensed a flowing, cascading motion until there was a jolt. Everything inside the boat was tossed up or out. The heavier objects crashed into walls or floors or ceilings. The lighter ones swirled weightlessly in the cabin. Collin, like the other heavy objects, bounced and collided with the hard surfaces around him as other hard things pummeled his body.

The boat was plunging deeper into the ocean and bouncing on rocks.

Panic flashed through his mind as he assessed his situation. The gym bag was tucked under his arm and the door to the outside was open just a few feet from him, but he was battered and disoriented. When he kicked toward the opening, he remembered he had no fins to propel him through the water. The additional weight and bulk of the gym bag made it difficult to swim quickly enough to free himself from the fast-sinking boat. Instinctively, Collin kicked with his finless feet and pulled with his free arm against the current toward the opening. Without hesitation, he wiggled through.

The surge of adrenaline brought a flash of brilliance to his mind: If he filled his buoyancy compensator and dropped the lead weights, the flotation device would bring him to the surface much faster. A quick shot of air in the vest helped him start to rise. As he struggled through the murky water, he managed to tug on the Velcro weight holder on the right side of his vest with his free hand. The first lead packet came loose and fell into the abyss below. That prompted him to pull the bag’s strap over his neck so he could use his other hand to let loose the other pouch of lead. With the bag in place, he first gave his vest another short burst of air by pressing on the inflator button and felt his body begin to rise more steadily. That wasn’t enough, so he added another short burst. That accelerated the ascent, but he needed more. His hand went to the second weight pouch, but before he yanked it free, he attempted the third burst of air in the buoyancy compensator. When he did, all he heard a feeble whoosh. That was it. No more air. Collin sucked in on the mouthpiece, but there was nothing as he tried to breathe through the regulator. He was experiencing every diver’s nightmare: his tank was completely out of air and he was far below the surface, unsure where it even was.

Collin was rising steadily through the dark water, but not rapidly enough. He hadn’t taken more than a normal breath of air before he ran out, so his lungs were already aching. Looking up to see how far he was from the surface, he realized he was heading into the flapping, swirling, entangling sheet of the mainsail. It had come unfurled and was billowing through the water. Before he knew it, he was wrapped up in nylon. His upward progress stopped and a gentle tug downward began to pull him with the boat as it descended.

*              *              *              *

Scripps Cancer Research Patient Clinic, La Jolla, California

June 15, 8:41 p.m. Pacific Time

Rob Howell stood next to Emily’s hospital bed and took in the scene. He listened, with the rest of the Cooks, to Sarah’s harrowing story as she recounted what she remembered from her kidnapping experience. Of course, she told them, she couldn’t recall much because they had drugged her. She had reached the part where Emily had suddenly appeared across from her in the cargo van. Then Sarah tightened up. It was as if she was reliving those moments of being bound and gagged. She stopped talking midsentence and grew silent and still.

“My heart dropped when I saw you there, Emily,” Sarah said, a tightness in her voice choking the words to just above a whisper. “I realized it was my fault that you got involved in this whole thing.” Sarah looked at Emily tenderly, the corners of her mouth drawn tight. She then looked at her hands. “I know I said this already, but I hope you won’t blame Collin for what happened. It was my fault, not his.”

Emily nodded her head and forced a half smile that faded quickly. The emotional numbness had not yet worn off.

Rob stood next to Emily and put a reassuring arm around her shoulder. He wondered what his high school friend was thinking and feeling. As her friend, he wanted to help. As Collin’s friend, he wanted to wait and let Collin be the one to offer a shoulder to cry on. No way did he want to get between those two.

Sarah restarted her narrative, skipping to their arrival at the abandoned warehouse.

Rob’s phone started to blare Linkin Park, the telltale ringtone for Lukas. Rob blew out a sigh and said, “I’m sorry. I have to take this one. Anyone else and I would ignore it, but I can’t ignore this one.” He ducked out of the room and into the mostly empty hallway.

“Listen up,” said Lukas. “The FBI are on their way to the hospital right now. ETA is about five minutes. You’ve got to get out of there. They can’t see you. If they do, they’ll start asking questions and things will get messy real fast.”

“Roger that. I’ll say my good-byes and go.”

“I’d imagine they’re both mad and embarrassed about letting Emily out of their sight. Tell her not to say anything about you, OK?”

“OK. What about Sarah and the others?”

“They’ve all seen you?”

“Yeah, we’re all together in the hospital right now,” said Rob.

“Oh, great. That’s not going to fly.” Lukas hesitated a moment, then came back. “Don’t worry about the others. The FBI are going to be more focused on Emily, I think. Just tell her and get on the road.”

Stepping back into the room, Rob apologized for the interruption. “Something’s come up and I’m needed elsewhere. I will catch up with you all later.” He nudged Emily, pointed with his head, and gestured with his eyebrows for her to follow him out to the hallway.

She slid off the bed and made her way out of the room while the Cooks all looked on with confused expressions.

“Emily, the FBI will be here shortly. They’re going to want to get a statement from you with as much detail as you can give them. The only thing I want you to leave out is me. Please don’t mention me, OK?”

She looked at Rob with the look of a lost but obedient puppy. Her pain was evident as her understanding. “I won’t say anything. Don’t worry about me. If you’ve got to work or meet people or whatever, go ahead and do what you’ve got to do.” She shrugged and gave a blank stare toward the elevator. “You best be going.”

“It’s not like that Emily. This is not work related, but I don’t have time to explain right now. I’ll touch base with you later. Probably tomorrow. Get some rest. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Emily’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Rob paused. “I promise, when this is all over, we’ll talk. Promise.” With that, he turned on his heels and speed-walked to the stairwell at the other end of the hall, in the opposite direction of the elevators. He opened the door, smiled, waved, then disappeared.