Gale Force

32

Okura stared down at Ishimaru. The stowaway was filthy and bruised and broken, a pitiful creature. The sight of him filled Okura with hot, sudden anger.

All you had to do was hold on to the briefcase, he thought. You could have made us rich. Well, me, anyway.

Ishimaru clawed at him, weak as a baby bird. “Water,” he rasped out. “Please.”

Okura ignored him. Shined his headlamp into the gloom again. Searched for any sign of the case, couldn’t see it. He kicked Ishimaru’s hand aside. Inched across the bulkhead to stand over him on the platform. Stared down at him for a long time—the stowaway feeble, blinking, near blinded by the light—and felt his anger only worsen.

Before Okura realized what he was doing, he’d put his foot down on his old classmate’s throat, stepped down hard.

It would be impossible to bring Ishimaru to the surface. The stowaway’s presence would bring more complications. It would raise questions that would stand in the way of Okura’s freedom.

This is the only way.

Ishimaru was too weak to fight. He clawed ineffectually at Okura’s boot. Gasping, his eyes bulging. Okura maintained the pressure, watched the desperation in Ishimaru’s eyes turn to surrender. And then those eyes went vacant and his old classmate was finally dead.