The Minoan Cipher

CHAPTER TEN

Hawkins messed up Leonidas by getting in the water so quickly. He waited and kept watch through his binoculars… and got stoned. The dope he’d smoked was like brain dynamite. The passage of time was exaggerated under the effects of the cannabis. Seemed like days had gone by. Maybe years. Screw it, he thought. He’d waited long enough. Maybe if he made enough of a ruckus Hawkins would come up to see what was going on.

He clicked a missile into the launcher. The first Spike would take out the pilot house so no one would call in a Mayday. He sighted just below the window and squeezed the trigger. The Spike whooshed out of the launcher and blew a hole in the side of the pilot house.

As the structure was engulfed in a ball of flame, he loaded a second missile into the launcher and aimed it at the hull a few inches above the waterline. He squeezed the trigger a second time. The Spike hurtled to its target at six hundred miles per hour. The camera in the nose of the missile sent a picture of a man running back and forth on the stern deck. He must have been panicked by the first missile strike. Little bald guy in a suit. Leonidas cackled. Reminded him of a duck in a shooting gallery. He enclosed the man in the white square that defined the target.

The missile passed through the man as if he weren’t there, scattering a shower of blood and body parts in a hundred different directions, then kept going and splashed into the ocean.

Leonidas experienced a moment of clarity. He cursed himself for the dumb stunt he just pulled. He’d wasted a damned missile that should have been used on the boat.

Crap. Things cost a fortune. He reloaded the launcher and fired the third Spike into the hull, intending to send the boat to the bottom. Nothing happened except for a lot of smoke and fire. He picked up the last Spike, the one he’d been saving to use on Hawkins, and sent it off after the others.

More smoke and flames. It seemed forever before the boat slowly listed at a forty-five degree angle. Water poured into the hull. The bow sank lower. The stern rose in the air at a sharp angle, as the boat slid into the sea leaving behind nothing more than foam and bubbles.

Leonidas snatched up a pair of binoculars and surveyed the debris and oil slick created from ruptured fuel tanks. The thick cloud of smoke swirling above the water hampered visibility.

Still no sign of Hawkins.

He squinted at the sky. Sheets of ashy clouds were moving in to blot out the sun. The wind had freshened and was whipping the greasy waves into whitecaps. The job had taken longer than he expected. The dope was making him fidgety. With stiff winds and rain on its way, it was doubtful Hawkins would last the night after he came to the surface. Leonidas was eager to get paid. He was hungry and the high was wearing off. To him, all of these facts together made the job complete.

Starting the engine, he set off for Cadiz at top speed. As he entered the harbor, he recited the alphabet. Then he counted to ten, putting an exaggerated crispness into his voice. Hardly any slurring. Not bad. All those acting lessons came in handy. He punched in a number on his phone.

Salazar answered right away. “Go ahead,” said the unmistakable mellifluous voice.

“It’s done.”

“Details.”

“The boat is at the bottom of the sea with everyone on it.”

“You’re 100 percent certain of that? Everyone.”

“There’s nothing left of the ship except for floating debris. Guess that seals our deal, Mr. Salazar.”

“Not quite. You’ll be paid your fee as soon as the authorities confirm the loss of the boat and its passengers.”

Salazar hung up. Leonidas held the phone to his ear and listened to the dial tone for a few seconds before he clicked off. He always stuck around after a hit, even when it was dangerous, to make sure his targets were dead. He hadn’t in this case and that nagged at him. Finally, looking forward to a nice evening of lust with Isabel, Leonidas shrugged his shoulders. He was 99 percent certain Hawkins was dead, and that would have to do, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had gone horribly wrong.