The Last Family

54

’ Everything you could need is in the storage units,” the Cheetah’s navigator said.

Paul and Thorne sat watching the walls of water that were being spewed aside as the boat left the harbor and began skimming the tops of the waves, the props shooting a rooster tail of water high in the air behind the craft. There was almost no noise, even as the engine had powered up. The SWAT-team members sat on bench seats, facing each other and speaking in half sentences, trying to dispel the tension they were feeling. One of them kept removing the magazines in his guns and checking them as though the bullets were an illusion that might disappear if he failed to keep an eye on them. Paul realized he didn’t even know the men’s last names. He didn’t want to know them. Ted, the bigger one, and Brooks, the smaller. Kids, really. Weren’t they all?

The pilot was watching a small screen that broke everything outside the craft into small, colorful, seemingly three-dimensional blocks. “Virtual reality,” the systems operator said proudly. “Like a video game or a simulator.” Another screen showed the lake as it might look in the daytime through a red lens. There was a blinking beside the bridge, and a seven-mile readout at the corner of the screen. The bank of screens taken together gave 360 degrees of view. Ten minutes out, the navigator pointed to a small blue light on the radar that represented something behind them, just exiting the harbor.

“Someone’s following us,” he said. “Fifty, sixty, now sixty-five knots.”

The navigator touched the earpiece in his right ear. He turned to Paul. “Sir, your arrested civilian is unarrested. He just took that cop’s gun and the speedboat that was docked. The police captain’s got three rounds in him. Nothing fatal, it doesn’t sound like. He took an ensign as hostage.”

“Son of a bitch,” Paul growled.

“Rainey never did like people saying no to him,” Thorne said, shaking his head.

Paul rubbed his eyes. “He have radar?”

“Yes, nothing that’ll track us or find the Shadowfax as long as it hugs the bridge.”

“So he can’t find us?” Paul asked.

“We’ll be a needle in a haystack,” the navigator said. “In this soup I’d rather have lottery odds.”

“Good,” Paul said. “We’ll deal with him after.”

From five hundred feet above the wind-seared surface of the lake, and a mile behind, the big orange-and-white Sikorsky helicopter was also tracking the sailboat, because even though the Shadowfax was hugging the bridge, the sophisticated system was not fooled. The Sikorsky was also monitoring the thirty-five-foot-long Cheetah and the third vessel that had just come out into the lake. The craft’s computers worked with the one aboard the Cheetah, plotting and replotting the estimated interception point, factoring in the speed and direction. According to their figures, the third boat, on its present northeastern line, would be off by a half mile in a few minutes. At the Cheetah’s interception point with the Shadowfax, the big Cigarette would be at least twice that.

Paul, seated in the control room with his hands gripping the cane, was relieved that Erin was no longer in harm’s way, but worried that Martin might have caught the news of Rainey’s escape and the shooting on the radio. The cop hadn’t used Rainey’s name but had just said that the man under guard had escaped in a speedboat. Martin would naturally assume he was being trailed. He might also think the report was a cover for launching a surveillance vessel. He was counting on Martin’s believing that no one would move against him, not with a bomb likely, until they had better intelligence, a plan of action. But who could be sure? It was of little consequence, so Paul fought to keep his mind on the present. What is, is.

Paul and Thorne had changed into black Gore-Tex SWAT-team outfits. Once on board, they would be within handgun range and would use safety slugs so that if they missed, the bullets would, at least theoretically, shatter before they could pass through walls. Reb and Laura were in an unknown location on board, assuming they were still alive. Paul looked at the diagram Thorne had put together from his limited knowledge gleaned from his single visit to the Shadowfax.

“I want to try something, to gain us some time,” Paul said. “Thorne, get on the radio and try to reach Martin. Tell him I’m on the way in. Tell him I want to negotiate. I have a hunch that if he knows I’m coming, he’ll wait to do whatever it is he plans to do.”

Thorne lifted his radio and keyed the transmitter button. “Martin Fletcher, this is Thorne Greer. Do you read me?”

There was silence for fifteen seconds. Then Thorne repeated the salute. Paul was standing with his weight on the cane’s handle. Then, after a short wait, they heard the microphone being keyed, followed by Martin Fletcher’s unmistakable voice. “What you want, Thorne?”

“I want you to let them go, Martin.”

He laughed, the sound filling the otherwise silent cabin. “Laura and the young virgins? Or are they? Hard to tell with kids these days. We all know Laura is a loose woman. Surely you’ve had her.”

He doesn’t know! Paul thought. They’re still in the V berth.

“Paul wants me to tell you that he’s flying in. He wants a face-to-face.”

“With what’s left of the army?”

“No, alone. He said he’d come alone. He said for us not to press you. The weather is going to clear shortly, so he can land. No one’s going to do anything until then.”

“Word of honor?” Martin laughed into the transmitter. “You think I’m crazy, Thorne? I’m going to kill these people if anyone comes within a mile of this tub. I’ve got Play-Doh on board. Half again as much as I used in the little harbor display. I have the detonator with me, and there’s another just like it with my friend.”

“No, please, Martin. Don’t do anything rash. I can get a boat and meet you so we can talk face-to-face. Give me a location.”

“I’d like to see Paul. I’ll tell you what, Thorne. I’ll keep sailing, soaking up the atmosphere for exactly one hour. Then, if Paul isn’t here, I’ll set off the Semtex. Did you enjoy the Pearl Harbor re-creation we put on?”

Thorne gritted his teeth. “How did you manage?”

“Trade secret. Don’t bother me again until Paul arrives. And don’t try anything. Because, old buddy, if you do, I’ll enliven the atmosphere on the old cruise ship with a little entertainment that will violate child-decency regulations, the laws of nature, and possibly the Geneva convention. I’ve never been much for rules. There’s already blood on the walls.”

Silence.

“Woody?” he asked.

“You in contact with Masterson?”

“Yeah.”

“Get him on a hookup. I want to speak to him.”

“But Martin, I’m-”

“Now, asshole.”

“Just a second.”

Thorne killed the microphone by releasing the button.

Paul took the radio and counted silently to thirty. Then he nodded at Thorne and held it up so he could speak into it. “Okay, go ahead.”

“He’s on,” Thorne said.

Paul turned the radio to his mouth. “Yeah, Martin.”

“Paul, long time no see.”

“Wasn’t my idea. I was kinda hoping we’d meet in the mountains before now.”

“Been looking over your shoulder?”

“I had hoped it could be just the two of us.”

“Wanted to die under the stars, huh? High pass drama.”

“You that sure I would die?” Paul said. “You’re awfully good at killing children, Martin. Been a while since you took on someone your own size.”

“Ask Dietrich and Woodrow about that. I took out the two best you had. Now there’s nothing in my way.”

“You? I would have bet it was your pal Kurt Steiner who took them out. I hear he’s pretty sharp. But you want me to believe you got it over on Woody Poole and George Spivey. Come on, Martin. I mean, you and I are both old men.” When Paul mentioned Kurt Steiner’s name, he heard an audible release of breath from Martin. Good, put the son of a bitch off balance!

“Old men, Paul?” he said. Paul could hear the anger in his voice. “I’m going to show you that I’m not getting older, Paul. I’m getting better.” He laughed, and his laughter was a dark thing, filled with the energy of fury.

Paul wondered if making Martin mad was smart. Yes, put him off balance.

“Dietrich told me some interesting things before he died, Paul.”

“That he was a pro who’s been waiting for you to show for a year?”

“You know? I guess he was lying. But it amazes me that T.C. knew what I was doing for that long. Gave Dietrich this boat, a Jaguar, and a big bag of DEA money.”

Paul felt as if he’d been slugged in the chest. T. C? He had thought Spivey was put into play by the CIA. It was what he had been told by Tod Peoples.

“You knew that, right?” Martin had picked up on the uncertainty as a wolf smells blood. “You didn’t know he was hired by DEA? You didn’t know!” He sounded truly excited.

Paul was silent for a second while he thought. “Spivey didn’t know I knew who he was. I didn’t know who hired him, exactly. It doesn’t matter.”

“If T.C. didn’t tell you, how’d you know out there in Montana?”

“I know a lot of things. I even know about you and Steiner playing on the pier with Lallo Estevez.”

“Good old T.C. Just like that spineless faggot to double-cross his own man.”

“Spivey?”

“No, you! You know so fuckin’ much-you don’t know your director paid Spivey to do you, too,” he said, laughing again.

Paul felt his heart lurch in his chest.

“That creep that your pal T.C. sent to do me, Paul-that guy has been sitting fat for a year, porking your ex-bride and waiting to drop the hammer on both of us!” He laughed out loud. “Now, that- that’s ironic.”

“You are truly one sick bastard, Martin. Tell you what I’m gonna do for you, Martin.”

“What’s that, Paul?”

“I’m gonna come out there and I’m gonna beat the cold shit out of you, Martin. And then, when I’m finished kicking your ass around the boat, I’m gonna kill you, man to man. You’re one sick fuck. What kind of animal would vaporize his own mother?”

“Hmmm. Get any of your people, did I?”

“I’m coming for you, and my face is going to be the last thing you ever see.”

“Maybe I’ll entertain myself with the family until you get here!” The voice was filled with barely controlled rage. “Maybe I’ll love up on Laura.”

“You should have kept Spivey alive if you wanted somebody to act jealous.”

Martin calmed his voice. “I’ll wait exactly one hour. We can open a bottle of wine, sit around, and shoot the shit like old times. Then you can watch me kill your seed, cowboy-like I watched my family die.”

“What do you really want, Martin? What’s your price?”

“My price, Paul? I’ll tell you what. Give me back Angela and Macon, and we’ll call it even.”

“Was your pals did that, not me. I don’t kill people, Martin.”

“Not you!” Martin laughed. “Innocent and pure right down to the last drop, that it?”

“No. Not hardly.”

“You framed me.”

“I sure did, Martin. They wanted to hit you because there wasn’t enough hard evidence. You burned some good people, and still I kept you alive.”

“Well, Paul, you’re a fuckin’ saint And I appreciate it. You hadn’t kept me alive, I wouldn’t be where I am today.”

“I wouldn’t have let anyone hurt your family.”

“Hmmm. When you getting in?”

“Soon as I can get the wheels on the ground. Will you let them go if I come out there?”

“I’ll be here. You think you can find the way, or should I turn Woody into a candle to light your way?”

“Stay put, I’ll find you.”

“By the way, tell your pals not to get too close, or something unfortunate might happen. Might get a case of premature eruption.”

The radio went dead and Paul handed it to Thorne. He looked at Ted and Brooks, the two SWAT-team members. They had grease smeared over their features.

“Look,” Paul said, “there’s no sense putting any more people than we have to on board. I’ll go on alone-I’m the one he wants.”

Thorne said, “He’ll kill them anyway, in front of you. You’re the one with no business going. You limp, you never could fight or shoot worth beans, you’re half-blind, and you might have a seizure and flop all over the place pissin’ yourself. I’m the one should go.”

Paul laughed bitterly. “Okay, I see your point.” Paul was relieved they hadn’t taken the out he had offered.

“Sir,” Brooks said, “we’re the best. I’m not bragging, just stating fact. We’ll get them off the boat alive if they can be got off alive. The way I see it, there’s two bad guys and they’re professionals. Four of us will be about even odds. Less and…”

Paul thought over what the young man had said. “First thing we do is make for the forward berth while we cover the rear and cockpit. If possible, we extricate them before we confront Martin or Steiner. The woman and child go off into the drink at once. No talking or anything. On the deck, into the vests, and they go straight into the water. One of you, the closest to them, will accompany them. No matter what’s happening. Fast and smooth. That’s the straightest order I’ll ever give. If they spot us, we have to keep them pinned and without firing blind. God knows where the bomb is or where the family will be.”

Paul looked at the two policemen. He fought seeing the faces of Hill and Barnett. “When the family is in the water and Woody is located, you guys get off, because he’ll blow the boat rather than be taken. Thorne and I will stay behind until Martin and Steiner are neutralized, or until the thing is ended. Whatever happens to us, those two do not get away. Promise me that.”

Ted nodded. “We’re square on that. That asshole killed a bunch of my friends tonight. He’s toast.”

“But one of you get the family on this boat and back to the dock first. That’s an order.”

“What about Reid?” Thorne asked bitterly. “I’m sorry I didn’t check him closer.”

Paul ignored Thorne’s apology. “Most likely he and Woody are dead.”

“What Martin said is true? About Reid’s being a plant?”

“George Spivey’s been under cover waiting for Martin to show here for over a year. Somebody who knew that told me when I was in D.C.”

“A year.” Thorne’s face reflected the seriousness of what Paul had said. “Someone knew about Martin and what he was doing over a year ago? He said it was T.C.?”

Paul nodded, his lips tight together. “It’s hearsay, at best. But, yes, I believe him. I don’t think he’s lying.”

“That means T.C. knew he’d be coming for Laura and your kids a year ago. Knew it. Hard to believe a man could be that cold. Might be Martin said it just to fix T. C?”

Paul didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Doesn’t alter anything for us now.”

Thorne sat. “Before Doris and Rainey’s kids were… And you didn’t say anything?” Thorne said, stunned. “You knew Reid was a plant and you didn’t tell us? When did you find out?”

“I swore not to tell anyone as part of the deal for the other information we got. I only knew that someone was in place in the field waiting for Martin. I didn’t figure out Reid was Spivey until just now. In case we failed, it was still the best chance to get Martin and save them.”

“Who told you if it wasn’t T. C? Who else knew?”

Paul shook his head. He didn’t want to put the spotlight on Tod Peoples. “It doesn’t matter, Thorne.”

“You didn’t think we could take him?” Thorne sounded hurt.

“Woody Poole was my insurance policy. I never thought he’d show here before he met Eve. I was way off.”

“Woody’s another dark angel.”

Paul nodded. “I think so. Someone from one of the other agencies, most likely CIA, wanted him included. He was pushed on me. I was only sure the team that’s in Miami could take him. I didn’t look far enough ahead.”

Thorne grew silent for a minute as he assimilated the new information.

“We don’t have anything to trade him? Maybe we could turn his friend Steiner with the right offer.” Thorne said.

“No negotiating,” Paul said. “We’re going to kill them.” He turned to the two policemen. “You know who the friendlies are on board?”

Nods from the SWAT-team members.

“Get a clean shot on anyone else, take it and make sure they don’t get up again. We’ll take the pilot out first, and silently as possible. That’ll leave either Martin or his accomplice below.”

Paul checked his gear and secured the forty-five he’d carried throughout his professional career. The cane stayed loaded. Walking without it would be difficult, but he had to refrain from using it on the deck and alerting the men inside.

The navigator turned around. “The Mae Wests-each is fitted with a beacon on it that we’ll pick up. They inflate as soon as they’re immersed or by pulling the strings. We’ll be on the sailboat’s stern in ten minutes. You’ll need to get out on the bow. We’ll hold it as steady as we can.” Paul nodded and selected four of the inflatable Mae Wests.

He opened the rough sketch of the Shadowfax Thorne had drawn. He studied it. Going in would probably be suicide. Two detonators, a split second to trigger them. Martin would do it, would die himself, before he’d risk failing. Would the other man? Probably.

Five minutes later the four were wearing assault-style hoods. Paul turned to the pilot, whose face was demonically lit by the orange glare of the dials.

“I’ve got solo body-heat silhouette on the stern. Either the boy or someone seated,” the navigator said as he inspected the red-orange form on the deck. The sailboat was a light-blue outline against a darker blue.

Paul thought about it for a second. Reb? Martin’s friend Steiner, watching for us?

“Get us in close. When we get my family overboard, I don’t want them wet good before they’re in this boat. We’re your second priority, but stay well back from the boat after you drop us. Do not approach the vessel under any circumstances once the family is aboard. No closer to the Shadowfax than two hundred meters until I have the bomb disarmed and Martin neutralized.”

The pilot nodded. The four men went out the forward hatch and stood at the railing. There was a platform at the front that could be raised several feet to allow occupants of the Cheetah to board a larger vessel. The men wore Kevlar vests and goggles to protect their eyes from the rain-the speed of the boat drove the rain against them like BBs.

“Good luck,” Paul said.

“Later,” Thorne said. He smiled at Paul, and in that second Paul was swept with a feeling of loss and remorse. They would not all see dry land again. Maybe none of them would.

“If Reid is alive… if you get to Reid, and I don’t, find out who sent him,” Paul said. “And make sure people know.”

Thorne nodded.

The Cheetah swung in from the east and pulled behind the sailboat. Ted held the figure on the deck in his binoculars as they swung in while Brooks kept his MP-5 trained on it. If it was Steiner or Martin, they would be full of holes before they knew what hit them. The cockpit was empty, which meant the vessel was on autopilot. The sound of the sailboat’s diesel and the wind was far louder than the pursuit boat. Paul could make out the figure on the stern now. It was Woody. The agent was naked, leaning against the aft mast with his legs splayed on the roof of the aft cabin. His head was lolling, his chin against his chest. He looked unconscious, his head rocking with the movement of the boat.

As the boats fell into speed and directional sync, the four men moved across the gangplank. They stepped quickly aboard the Shadowfax, their guns in hand. Ted led the group, with Thorne bringing up the rear. The Cheetah dropped back and veered away behind the veil of rain, then followed like a hungry shark on a blood trail.