Private Lives

21

Considering the circumstances, Matt wasn’t surprised that he wasn’t able to get hold of Jay Gridley. The head of Net Force was directing an all-out effort to find Megan O’Malley.

Matt should probably feel glad he’d managed to contact the Net Force Explorers’ liaison, Agent Len Dorpff. That, however, had been the easy part of the job. Now he faced the uphill task of convincing Dorpff to believe in Captain Winters’s theory — and getting him to act on it.

Dorpff frowned in the display over Matt’s computer. “So, you’re saying that Marcus Kovacs’s home in the Blue Ride — and the preparations for an extended stay in the mountains — these are a blind of some sort?”

Matt nodded eagerly. “He wants us to put our resources and attention there while he makes his escape by boat. That’s how Mike Steele got away the last time. He even faked his death in a boating accident. Look at the baby gift he had made for Captain Winters — a rattle in the shape of an anchor. The guy is obviously crazy over boats.” He extended his hands toward the image. “It’s not my idea. Captain Winters figured it out, and he probably knows Steele better than anybody in Net Force. The captain may even have found the boat and gone there on his own to stop the getaway.”

“Yeah. Can you explain this sudden inspiration to me again?”

“We were checking the names of boats, looking for certain connections. It seems that Steele saw law enforcement as a sort of grown-up game of cowboys and Indians. He was also into the mystique of the Vikings. The boat he disappeared on was called the Knorr. That’s the Scandinavian name for a Viking long ship.”

“I’m with you so far,” Dorpff said. “So what about this new discovery?”

“I came in to my room to find Winters gone and the list of ships scrolled to a listing for a big cabin cruiser called the Skraelling.” Matt took a deep breath. “In the old Viking sagas there are stories of captains who sailed to what we now know is North America. They had fights with the people who lived there, whom they called skraellings. We’d call them Native Americans — or Indians.”

Would Dorpff see the connection? “Mike Steele thought of his Net Force job as cowboys and Indians,” Matt said. “So if he went over to the other side—”

“He’d become an Indian — or in Viking-talk, a skraelling. Is that where you’re going with this?” A frown of indecision twisted Dorpff’s thin face. “Interesting. But you’re hanging a lot on a single word.”

“A single very uncommon word, attached to a powerful boat, close but not too close to Washington, that would serve as a perfect getaway vehicle.”

“I’ll pass it up the line,” Dorpff said. From the sound of his voice, he was impressed but still dubious about the Winters-Hunter theory.

“I expect this is the last thing you’ll want to hear,” Matt said, “but I’ve got to say it. When you took over the liaison job, you said you hoped you’d do as well as Captain Winters. Well, one thing he always did was go the extra mile for any of his Net Force Explorers. If Captain Winters had heard this from one of us, and thought it might possibly help save Megan, he’d take it right to the top.”

Len Dorpff stared at him for a moment, speechless.

Guess I pushed it too hard, Matt thought.

But then the young agent slowly nodded his head. “You’re right, you know,” Dorpff said. “When I took this job, that put the Net Force Explorers under my care. I can’t hold back when one of my people is in trouble.”

He grinned out of the display at Matt and gave him a sketchy salute. “I’ll give it my best shot, Matt,” he promised. “My best.”

Megan had recovered enough from the effects of the gassing that she could sit on the bunk. She couldn’t go much farther with her wrist handcuffed to the rail. Mike Steele had been surprisingly good-natured. He’d cleaned up the mess her outraged stomach had made on the carpet and then disappeared.

They still hadn’t left the dock. Apparently, there was quite a bit of work to do before the boat would be ready to set off. Either Steele had been so confident in the success of his deception that he hadn’t been maintaining his getaway craft, or he’d been super-careful not to be spotted anywhere near it.

After what seemed like hours the kidnapper returned to the cabin. “We should be leaving shortly,” he announced. “It should look like someone getting home from work and going for a brief jaunt to clear away the cobwebs. I’ve also been checking the charts, trying to find someplace isolated enough that you won’t be getting people on my tail too soon, but safe enough that you don’t drown in case you’re stuck when the tide comes back in.”

He hesitated for a moment. “I’m glad you were sensible about the whole screaming thing. There’s nobody on the docks, and I didn’t want to be forced to gag you while you were still queasy from the gas. Getting sick while you’re gagged is no joke.”

Megan silently agreed. She’d heard of people drowning in their own vomit when they had no place to spew except down their own lungs.

“So, if you can just remain reasonable a little while more, we can end this with no permanent damage on either side.”

Megan still kept silent. That would be her last chance to do anything to try and stop this getaway. Under the circumstances, it might be the last thing she did in her life. Behind that obliging exterior, Mike Steele was a desperate man. If she tried to use her martial arts training against him when he came to undo her handcuffs, he certainly wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.

Worse, she only had Steele’s word that he was going to beach her someplace desolate. What had the pirates in Treasure Island said? “Dead men tell no tales.”

That would go twice for a dead female Net Force Explorer. Steele would have a lot less to worry about if he tied her unconscious body to a spare anchor and sent her to the bottom of the bay.

The moment of truth was fast coming up, and Megan still hadn’t made up her mind what to do.

“I think there’s been enough damage done already, Mike,” a new voice cut in.

Both Megan and Steele whirled in surprise to the cabin’s entranceway. James Winters stood in the opening, tapping a large wrench into his right hand.

“Threatened with my own wrench,” Mike Steele said lightly. “I guess that’s the best you could find since they stuck you on the bow-and-arrow squad.” Mike glanced at Megan. “That’s cop slang—”

“For people who aren’t allowed to keep their guns,” she finished. “I know.”

“No more moving,” Winters said. “And keep your hands where I can see them, or I’ll brain you where you stand.”

He’d picked a good place for this confrontation. The cabin was too cramped for Steele to maneuver, and Steele was close enough to the entrance for Winters to make good on his threat if his ex-partner tried to draw a weapon.

“So what do we do now, Jim?” Steele asked, ostentatiously keeping his hands spread out by his sides. “Stand around and wait till the cavalry comes?”

“As long as you stay on this boat, you’ll have the hope of pulling something off,” Winters said. “And, knowing you, you might just succeed.”

He tensed, half-raising the wrench. “First, you can give Megan the keys to those cuffs.”

“I could just as easily be a gentleman — undo them for her,” Steele suggested, his right hand going into his pocket.

“Just the keys,” Winters repeated grimly. “If anything else comes out, you’ll regret it.”

Steele shrugged. “And I thought a few years on a desk might have softened you.” Slowly, carefully, his hand emerged, his fingers delicately holding a small ring with a couple of tiny keys on it.

“If you thought I’d have them on the same ring as the ignition for the engines, too bad.” The kidnapper grinned. “Of course, if you want to come in and search me for them and any artillery…”

Coming into the cramped cabin would bring Winters into hand-to-hand range, and he obviously didn’t want to take that chance.

“Toss the keys to Megan,” he repeated.

Steele stood with the keys in his palm. “Or what? You’ll bash in my skull a couple of times?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so, Jim. You’d never do that to an unarmed man.”

“People change.” Winters’s voice sounded like two huge rocks grinding together. “You did. Are you really willing to bet that I haven’t?”

Steele silently regarded his ex-partner for a moment. Then, without another word, he tossed the keys to Megan.

It only took a couple of seconds to undo the cuff around her wrist. Another twist of the key, and she removed the jangling bit of metal from around the bed railing.

We may yet need these, she thought.

“Okay, now we’re going out on deck,” Winters announced. “You’ll go first, Mike. Megan, I want you to stay as far as possible from his hands.”

Megan nodded. She had no idea how Mike Steele had rated in unarmed combat. But her own martial arts training was chock-full of all sorts of unpleasant holds that could disable an opponent, hold a hostage…or break a neck.

Winters waited until Steele was coming toward him before he stepped aside. He stayed at Steele’s back as Megan stepped into the open.

Steele spread his arms and took a deep breath. “Ah, that good sea air. It’ll be a perfect evening for a sail.”

“For other people,” Winters said grimly. “Not for you.”

“I truly didn’t think you’d hold so much of a grudge.” Steele almost seemed to be complaining. “You ruined my life, I took a shot at ruining yours. Okay, I lose. But I think you still owe me, Jim. Let me go, and I’m out of your life for good. I swear it. I’ll even tell you where you can find the stuff that will clear you completely. All you have to do is stroll onto the dock and let ol’ Iron Mike sail away. Come on, Jim. For old times’ sake.”

“I always wondered if I should have kept quiet when I found that Alcista was framed,” James Winters said quietly to his partner’s back.

“Things would have been a lot different,” Steele said.

“But then I wondered if there were other cases that I just never found out about.”

Steele grinned over his shoulder. “I’ll never tell.”

“But this time around, you went too far. There are three recent cases of murder to consider.”

“Two cases are people who are no great loss, and one was an unfortunate accident.”

“Three dead people,” Winters said. “I can’t let you walk away from that.” His voice hardened into cop mode. “Onto the dock. Now.”

Steele made his move as they were coming down the gangplank. He pushed Megan into James Winters, knocking his former partner off balance. While Winters grabbed Megan to keep her from falling overboard, Iron Mike vaulted over the side and landed on the dock below like a cat, drawing a pistol as he landed.

Megan froze. The gun was trained on her. Its muzzle looked more like a drainage pipe — almost large enough to crawl into.

“I’ve got her dead in my sights, Jim. Now it’s your turn not to do anything stupid.”

The wrench dropped from Winters’s hand to clatter on the metal gangplank.

“Now, if the two of you will kindly step off and get out of my way…”

The distant banshee wail of sirens cut into his words.

“Just get moving,” Steele ordered. “I think that’s my cue to go.”

“Mike, you’re not going anywhere,” Winters spoke in a rush. “Before I went to the cabin, I was down in the engine room, messing with your fuel pumps. Why do you think I had the wrench with me?”

“You always could think fast,” Steele complimented. “And I give you a ten for sincerity. Now do as I say. Get the hell out of my way.”

He extended the pistol at arm’s length, aiming at Megan.

“All right!” Winters choked. He started down the metal ramp. Megan followed, feeling an invisible target sign burn into her chest.

“Okay,” Steele said as they reached the dock. “Let’s be traditional about this. Hands up, and stand over there.”

His right hand kept the pistol leveled at Megan. His left indicated a position nearly back on land. Besides the sirens, Megan could hear the roar of heavy-duty engines. The cops or Net Force must almost be there.

“Mike, I’m not conning you,” Winters insisted as they moved where Steele wanted them. “There’s loose fuel in the engine room. Vapors could turn this whole boat into a bomb.”

“Just a gamble I’ll have to take, pardner.” Steele showed remarkable agility as he backed up the gangplank, still keeping them covered.

He just made it aboard as a fleet of cars screeched to a halt at the dock entrance.

“Police! Freeze!” an amplified voice blared as Mike Steele dived into the cockpit. He fired a couple of shots to keep the cops’ heads down while he turned the ignition key.

James Winters lunged toward Megan, grabbing her in a tackle and bringing her to the surface of the dock.

Behind them, a fireball erupted from the bowels of the cabin cruiser. Even lying flat, they could feel the shock wave tear at them. And, at the center of the blast, they heard a terrible human scream.

Flames roared around the superstructure of the vessel as Megan rose to her feet with an assist from James Winters’s arm. He tried to draw her along to the dock entrance, where a group of cops and Net Force agents stared at the sudden destruction. But Megan pulled back, her eyes on the worst of the blaze — the cockpit where Mike Steele had stood a moment before.

“He didn’t leave you hung out to dry this time,” she told her mentor. “I can testify that he confessed to killing those people. And he actually fired shots at the cops trying to stop him. We’re all witnesses to that,” she finally said. “I mean, there’s no misinterpreting that. He didn’t succeed, Captain. He’s out of your life, and he didn’t get you.”

James Winters slowly nodded, looking into the flames. “As for the rest…well, Iron Mike Steele got the Viking funeral he always wanted. End of story.”

Together, they turned away from the blazing wreckage and headed up the dock to dry land.

To safety.