Minotaur

39

Chapel spun around to see his attacker, simultaneously dropping to one knee so he could reach down and scoop the weapon up again.

Favorov was up on top of the cabin, wielding a long boat hook on a pole. He swung it around again and smacked at Chapel’s hand before it could close on the gun.

“Leave that,” the Russian told him.

Chapel lifted his hand away, spreading the fingers to show that he was complying. He took a step back, away from the gun. He doubted Favorov could seriously wound him with the boat hook, but the Russian could probably knock him over with it—or knock him off the boat. Chapel was too tired to try swimming back on board.

“Impressive. You’re still alive,” Favorov said. “You must be half bull to keep going looking like you do. Is that a gunshot wound on your torso?”

Chapel ignored the question. “You’ve got a problem, here,” he said.

“Interesting,” Favorov told him. “I was about to suggest something similar.”

“You don’t have a firearm on you. If you did you would have just shot me. You’re holding your only weapon.”

“Handguns are so difficult to explain to customs officials, even where I’m going,” Favorov said.

“If you come down here,” Chapel said, “you’ll need to put that hook down so you can get to the pistol before I grab it. It’ll just take too long otherwise to climb down while trying to cover me. If you just stay up there, pointing that thing at me, the boat’s going to sail around in circles all night and not get any closer to Cuba.”

Favorov smiled. For the moment, it seemed, he was perfectly willing to maintain the impasse. “I don’t know how you followed me, Chapel. Did you put a tracking device on me while we dined?”

“No.”

The Russian nodded. “I imagine I would have noticed.” The nasty end of the boat hook hovered right in front of Chapel’s face. “So you tracked me with your satellites. I did not think they were so good.”

“Nope, no satellites,” Chapel said.

Favorov’s face wrinkled as if he were trying to solve a complicated math problem. “Hmm. Then how did you do it? How did you find me before I could even get away from the dock?”

“Fiona,” Chapel said. “Your wife.”

“She betrayed me? That stupid cow. But just smart enough to know I would take the Phaedra. I would say let this be a lesson to you, Chapel, except you won’t live long enough to make use of it. Never marry a beautiful woman. They are vipers, all of them.”

“She didn’t seem that way to me.”

Chapel hadn’t actually meant to taunt Favorov. He’d figured to keep the man talking, knowing that eventually, if the boat stayed in American waters, the Coast Guard would pick it up. It was a slim hope but better than nothing.

But now, as he watched Favorov’s face darken in anger, he thought maybe he had a better plan.

“She seemed pretty nice, honestly,” Chapel continued. Favorov squinted at him. “Really nice, if you catch my drift. When she begged me to let her go with her kids. She would have done anything to get away.”

“If you laid a hand on her—”

“What do you care, Favorov? She’s just a viper, right? What do you care if she got down on her knees and begged me to—”

“Shut up!” Favorov said. “She is mine! I won her fairly. I gave her everything she could have ever wanted!”

“Except for one thing,” Chapel said. He’d never been very good at sleazy innuendo. It just wasn’t his style. As angry as Favorov was, though, it wasn’t going to take much nuance. “One thing I was very happy to give her.”

Favorov’s hands kneaded the pole of the boat hook as if he wanted very much to stab it right through Chapel’s heart. He seemed too angry to speak.

“I’m talking about an orgasm,” Chapel pointed out, grinning wickedly.

With a bestial roar Favorov tossed the boat hook away and ran forward, leaping off the top of the cabin. Chapel hadn’t been expecting that. The Russian smashed into him, knocking them both down. Chapel’s head hit the fiberglass deck hard enough to make him see stars—especially considering it wasn’t his first head trauma of the night. For a split second he lost consciousness.

When he came to again, Favorov’s hands were wrapped around his throat.