Undertow (36 page)

Staring out a window wasn·t going to get everyone to safety. Reluctantly, Teal turned away.

She saw the tray of booze, but took a few moments to search the head for anything useful.

Same bottles of shampoo and bubble bath. Another couple of romantic candles, and a fresh book of matches. She stuck the matches in her front pocket and emptied most of the liquid out of the large glass bottles, tucking them under her arms.

Back in the stateroom, she ran her gaze over the selection of alcohol. Most of the bottles were unopened.
Thank you very much.

She checked labels, looking for the highest amount of alcohol.
Ethanol
as far as she was concerned. There were several large bottles of something cal ed Austrian Stroh 80. She whistled when she read the alcohol by volume number on the label of the rum bottles.

Eighty percent. That was one hundred and sixty p roof.

Her heartbeat went into overdrive.
Perfect!

After a thorough but fast look around, she found a plastic garbage bag lining the trash container by the desk. ´Very thoughtful of you to provide shopping bags to your thieves, Mr. Werner, sir.µ Teal grinned as she loaded her booty very careful y into the bag.

Arranging washcloths between the bottles so that they didn·t clink, she opened the door, slipped down the companionway, and used her elbow to open the door to the other stateroom.

Ĺock that,µ she told Maria, who quickly complied.

Teal unloaded her supplies, lining the big bottles up beside the three the others had retrieved and prepared while she was gone. The smal amount of palm oil in the bubble bath would do nicely to thicken the alcohol so it stuck to whatever it was thrown on.

With four pale-faced women watching, Teal and her two accomplices, Maria and Janel e, fil ed the six two-liter bottles with the Stroh rum and added a few bottles of cognac with high proof alcohol to top them off. Śhake these,µ she told whoever was closest. ´Get me a glass, please.µ She sent one of the quiet women scurrying into the head, as she took each wel -

shaken bottle and started stuffing a tampon into the top, leaving the string hanging out.

When the woman returned, Teal fil ed the glass with the Stroh rum she·d saved.

Óh, my God,µ Janel e whispered as Teal careful y poured the rum onto each tampon to saturate it. The white fiber swel ed, sealing in the contents of the bottles.

´That·s incredibly clever. But is it going to
work
?µ

´We·re about to find out. Let me look at that drawing you ladies made of the boat.µ

* * *

With the sheet of
Slow Dance
·s stationery in hand, Teal ordered Maria to bring up the rear and Janel e to be in the middle. The other four women were already terrorized by everything that had happened. This escape plan was a tricky proposition, and she·d warned them that it might not work. The men had locked them up to keep them out of the way and in the dark.

They were not going to take kindly to having the women escape and run back to St. Maarten and the authorities.

She·d gone over the plan several times, made a couple of them repeat the instructions.

Warned them that once on the launch they had to stay lying flat on the floor, keep their mouths shut, and let Janel e drive. As fast as she could. She told Janel e to put on as many flotation devices as she could get around her body.

It was the only protection she could suggest. They both knew that if any of the men spotted their departure, he·d shoot first and ask questions later.

They got it.

She hoped.

The first thing Teal had to do was get six bikini -clad, extremely spooked women up two decks,
unseen
. From there, it was up to Maria and Janel e to wait until exactly the right moment to herd them aft to where the motor launch was tied up.

Teal told them they·d better run for their lives when the time was right.

It wasn·t a lie.

* * *

Zane had intentional y not suggested lights. They had none. And although visibility was thirty to forty feet, without the lights to il uminate the deeply shadowed crevices and crannies, they weren·t likely to spot the box, hidden as it was beneath c rumpled dash equipment. And even if they did manage to see it, they didn·t have any tools other than their dive knives to try and get at it. Been there, tried that. He could·ve saved them time trying to pry the jammed doors free. Even with their brute stre ngth that wasn·t going to work. He let them go for it, though.

He swam around, pretending to help them search for the box, but since he knew where it was, he was just doing busywork. Mostly checking on the condition of his wreck, but they didn·t need to know that. He pointed out a couple of possible locations, separating the men as they searched. He also made sure he churned up silt, clouding the water to make visibility difficult.

Looking up, he saw the dark shadows of the hul s of
Decrepit
and the
Slow
Dance
almost directly above them. His boat was closest. The smal er shadow of Phil·s Sea Ray and the other dinghies were tethered to
Decrepit
. The
Slow Dance
had one smal shadow aft.

Teal, where the hell are you?
He·d rip the
Slow Dance
apart from stem to stern to find her. Zane refused to believe that she wasn·t alive and wel ³and pissed off as hel right about now. He kept the image of Teal, furious but competent, in his head.

He rapped on his tank to indicate he·d found more of the pl ane a few hundred feet from the fuselage. A dozen, two-foot-long yel ow grubs, their gray bodies pinstriped in yel ow, shot out from under a smal outcropping of coral inches in front of him.

Two men swam over, while the other two tried to pry the doors off the Cessna.

They were far enough away to only be seen through the opaque veil of sand and sediment that they were churning up as they put their weight into pul ing at the doors. They were exerting themselves dangerously as air bubbles frothed over their heads unnoticed.

They had ten minutes before the lift on the crane was lowered. Ten, fifteen minutes to attach al the cables « Once the plane was secured, he·d be redundant.

He swam paral el to the bottom, saw a straight, not from nature, line in the sand. Another about twelve feet away. The two cannon, lost, then found, then lost again, now lay just under the sediment kicked up by the storm. He eyebal ed the length and distances, while a single, tiny, bril iant -hued blue chromis darted past, its color only slightly muted at this depth.

The crane on deck made a peculiar groaning cry when it was activated and Zane heard it now.
Hell
. Pink Shirt had activated the mechanism early. Zane heard that almost human moan under the water and knew his time was up. W orse, Teal·s time had just taken a drastic spiral turn.

He waited for the men to swim closer, then pointed to the pieces of white aluminum, and chunks of metal scattered across the sand with the combined strength of the storm, and the force of the Cessna·s crash landing.

They dived down to get a closer look. Both men wore weapons strapped to their biceps. A gun worked just fine underwater. There were four men to one.

Zane·s only advantage was he was familiar with what was on the seabed. He had to make use of the element of surprise. He couldn·t second-guess himself. It was them or him who had to die. He chose them.

He reminded himself that he·d only have one chance at this. He went in low, swimming fast, grabbed the first guy around the throat, yanked hi s gun from his holster, then pul ed off his mask and knocked out his regulator in a shockingly quick move that stunned the guy before he knew what hit him.

The man tumbled backward, arms and legs flailing, churning up silt in a smoky cloud around him. His leg lashed out, and the gun sailed out of Zane·s grip to land in the soft sand.

Zane flipped over, went in again, this time with his diving knife in hand. He made a grab for the other man·s hose, but the guy rol ed out of Zane·s way, presenting his back. Zane grabbed him by the tank strap to hold him. The man struggled like a maniac, bubbles rising like steam over his head. Zane put his entire body weight and strength into stabbing his dive knife into the guy·s aluminum tank. It barely made a dent, and th e man turned on him faster than a snake. Zane lashed out, grabbed the guy·s hose, and severed it, releasing his oxygen into the sediment-fil ed water. The guy·s eyes went wide before he ditched the tank with the quick release latch on the front of his BC. The whole tank, hoses and BC, fel to the ocean floor as he shot upward. He jettisoned his weight belt, too, to get up faster.

The guy flexed his body as his air disappeared. Survival instinct was a powerful motivation for the guy to get to the surface fast, and even then, he was going to have to deal with his too-rapid ascent to the surface. He·d be out of commission for a while.

The heavy chains from the crane hit the water with a smal
boom,
then started snaking almost musical y through the water with muted chinks and rattles. Smal schools of fish scattered in flashes of silver and blue.

The second man turned at the noise and the sight of the churned up sediment.

He came for Zane as fast and powerful y as a shark. Zane dove and grabbed the dropped gun. His knee struck the cannon, and he fanned a quick hole for himself behind its length.

Shal ow, but better than nothing.

A bul et whined its way through the water, p assing his left shoulder, close enough for Zane to feel its passage through the water. He saw the guy·s pale face, his murderous expression through his mask a second before he aimed his gun. But Zane was quicker. He fired. Once.

Twice. The man did a slow-mo cartwheel, bubbles and blood combining in a reddish mist over his body as he slowly rose through his death.

The other two men, alerted by the obvious sounds of gunshots, were already on their way toward him.

Zane fired. Fuckshitcrap.
Missed
.

A bul et came spiraling through the water directly for him, fine bubbles delineated its rapid trajectory. Zane flattened himself in the sand behind the ten -foot-long saker. Inches of ancient bronze saved his ass and made his ears ring as the bul et hit the cannon i nstead of his body. Zane fired blindly. They fired back. The bul ets went wild over his head.

He squeezed the trigger again. Thought he hit the goon on the left, by the rapid exhalation of bubbles, but the man kept coming, a dangerous black shadow, moving fast.

They had only minutes of air left.

Zane raised his head over the barrel of the saker and fired another shot. It went wild as an enormous explosion above made the water ripple and bend in a surreal amber-colored glow.

Overhead, the bow of the
Slow Dance
erupted into flames.

* * *

Teal·s arms shook and burned from lugging twelve liters of liquid explosive al over the
Slow
Dance
. While
skulking
. That was almost five pounds per bottle, and she·d carried six of them for a good twenty minutes.

The women·s map had been pretty good. She·d found the head on deck two when she·d heard voices, and stayed in there for several minutes as two men passed in the companionway, just feet away. Thankful y, neither of the men had needed to make a pit stop. She ducked out of sight at even the smal est sound, terrified she·d be caught at any second.

The loud retort of a gunshot traveled across the water, and she froze, then reminded herself there was no time to dil ydal y. The girls were waiting to get the hel o ff this boat. Waiting for
her
.

Stil , that sound spooked her. She was a freakin· mechanic, making use of tampons and liquor to save those girls, making things up as she went along, not some high -tech super spy who actual y had a clue what in the hel she w as doing.

Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her heart beat even faster than before. Sweet Jesus, she wished Zane was here. But he wasn·t. She ducked into a smal library to look out a window, praying that Zane hadn·t been the target. She saw several men working around the
Decrepit
·s crane. Obviously they were going to try and bring the Cessna up on deck to facilitate their search.

Did they know they only had ³she glanced at the fancy boat·s brass clock on the wal ³less than two hours, if that, before that Alphachip exploded?

Not seeing Zane or his Sport overwhelmed Teal with a deep sense of relief.

For al she knew, Zane was on his way back with the authorities. They·d show up with guns blazing and arrest al these sorry-ass bad guys. Until then, she would d o her part.

Lugging the plastic bag of homemade explosives, she climbed the sweeping stairs to the upper observation lounge. She blinked against the bright glare, noting the nautical theme and cluttered furniture she·d have to navigate as if she were a gh ost. The air conditioner gave her overheated skin goose bumps. No bad guys.

Her breath came out in a shaky sigh. So far, so good. Large, angled windows overlooked the calm, deep blue ocean and the bow of the boat. Teal kept to the highly -polished teak wal s, bypassing the groupings of sofas and chairs.

Standing to one side of the large bank of windows, she saw, with satisfaction, that directly outside the windows was a cantilevered rooftop. Gleaming white, shiny, which meant slippery, but right over the p row. She couldn·t get further away from the back of the boat where the women were gathered, waiting for her signal.

She had a nice view of the
Decrepit
·s praying mantis yel ow crane as its arm swung over the water, and someone lowered the lifting mechanism. The chains dropped into the water in a frothy white splash.
Good luck with that.

She·d inspected the crane thoroughly, along with every other mechanical inch of the
Decrepit,
when she·d first come on board. It was serviceable, but not reliable. It need ed work.

But that wasn·t her problem at the moment.

One-handed, she careful y shoved the heavy window casing aside. Hot, salty air blew against her sweat-dampened skin. The open window also al owed her to overhear men·s voices from below and out of sight. They were apparently watching the progress of the crane as the chains sank beneath the water.