Hell Ship

CHAPTER 12

Scalpel gripped the padded armrests of the wheelchair and pushed off, standing erect on his own for the first time in three days. Although the doctor has assured him that two days in hyperbaric oxygen chamber had purged every trace of nitrogen from his tissues, he could still feel it. His joints felt as if they were about to burst.

“That’s more like it,” cheered the man standing behind the wheelchair. “When the horse throws you, you’ve got to get back on.”

Scalpel grimaced. His first impulse was to tell the man what he could do with his horse, but it didn’t pay to aggravate the boss, especially not when the boss was someone like John Lee Ray.

Ray was a handsome man, with the physique of an athlete and the face of a movie star. The first attribute was the product of an almost religious regimen of physical conditioning, the second was the result of a lot of cosmetic surgery. He was in his early-fifties, but was often told that he looked like he was in his late twenties, which pleased him tremendously. Ray cared a great deal about such things; he had not been born into wealth and power, but he was ambitious, and knew that appearances mattered a great deal to the wealthy and powerful men whom he served.

John Lee Ray was in the security business, providing personal protection, investigative services and “threat management,” which was his euphemism for pre-emptive assassinations, only to the wealthiest of the wealthy — men who could afford to hire their own army, which was exactly what Ray’s organization was. A former US Army Special Forces officer, Ray had the training, experience, and most importantly, the international contacts to be very good at his chosen profession. He had started out as a single operator, but had quickly gathered a cadre of professionals with a similar background in black ops, to form a multi-million dollar agency. Scalpel, who had been a member of Ray’s SF team — it had been Ray that had given him his operational nickname — had been one of the first to sign up.

“Steady now.” Ray’s voice was accented by a faint South Carolina drawl, which only seemed to add to his charisma. “I can wheel you closer.”

“No,” Scalpel gritted his teeth. “I’ve got this.”

Ray nodded and stepped aside to let a hospital orderly take the wheelchair back into the main lobby. He said nothing more until they were both in the back seat of a heavily armored SUV, one of a fleet of such vehicles that Ray had at his disposal.

When they were on the move, Ray turned to him. “If you’re not ready for duty, I need to know.”

“I can handle it,” said Scalpel, mustering as much confidence as he could. “I need to be in on this, John Lee.”

“You need? Oh, yes. Payback.”

“He left me to die down there. The doctors say this pain might never go away.”

Ray shook his head. “I need you to be focused. The mission comes first.”

Scalpel nodded. “Always.”

“This is important to me.” Ray gripped his subordinate’s hand.

“I know,” Scalpel assured him. And he did know. As part of Ray’s inner circle, he was intimately familiar with the man’s obsession with the Templars. “And making sure that Dane Maddock dies screaming is important to me. So let’s kill two birds with one stone, all right?”

“‘Kill two birds.’ That’s what I like about you. Always looking for ways to maximize our efficiency.” A smile creased Ray’s handsome face, but then he was all business again. “Listen, I didn’t come halfway around the world just to wish you a speedy recovery. I’m personally overseeing this operation now. I can’t afford any more mistakes.”

Scalpel bit back the reply that was already on his tongue. Ray didn’t abide excuses, and the simple truth of the matter was that Scalpel had made mistakes, not the least of which was underestimating Dane Maddock. He chose a different tack. “All I’m asking is for a chance to make this right.”

“You’ll get it,” answered Ray in an easy voice. “But the situation has remained fluid during your convalescence; a lot has happened. Maddock split his team. His crew is back on the site, but he lit out for England to pay a visit to the current Lord Hancock.”

“You said that was a dead end.”

“And so it is, for us at least. Maddock may not have learned anything that we don’t already know, but he’s clearly up to speed now because he’s on his way back. And he’s got company; that loose end you failed to tie off in DC.”

Scalpel did his best to ignore the rebuke. “She’s with Maddock?”

“She is. I’ll admit, when this began I did not anticipate she would be anything more than an annoyance. Now, I’m less certain as to her role in this entire affair.”

“Three birds, then.”

“Quite. But I have changed our tactics. Subtlety instead of blunt force. I have been monitoring Maddock’s team. They haven’t found the Hancock medallion yet, and frankly I’m not certain that they will.”

“And if they don’t?”

“It’s out there,” Ray said confidently. “I’ll just come back and scour every square inch of the site until I find it.”

“So why not just do that now? Let’s take them out and do this our way.”

Ray’s expression did not change, but his blue eyes seemed to harden to the color of concrete. “We are going to do this my way.”