The Nostradamus File

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

The moon was an electric, cold light glittering off the white froth of the Atlantic. The raft rose and fell and slapped hard against the uneven chop, sending showers of salt spray over them. A stiff breeze brought the smell of pine and earth. They were close to the island.

They wore black combat gear with full body armor. Each had a SIG-Sauer P229 and an MP-5N slung across the chest. Reliable, accurate and deadly, with a high rate of fire. It would work if it was drenched in water.

Selena and Nick rode in the center of a Navy Seal CRRC, a Zodiac. The inflatable raft had separate, water-tight compartments that might keep it from sinking if there was a puncture or tear. A fuel cell in the front fed the engine with a rubber hose. Ronnie was at the tiller, navigating with his GPS. The outboard engine was a two stroke impeller type with pump-jet propulsion, rated at 55 horses. It was quiet for an outboard but it wasn't completely silent. Nick wasn't much worried about the noise. It was a reasonable bet that guards wouldn't patrol this far away from the house. This end of the island was covered with a thick stand of trees. The swirling ocean currents and heavy surf were an effective deterrent. He watched the shore draw closer and understood why.

Sharp rocks rose black and wet and ragged in the moonlight. They stuck out of the dark waters like the teeth of a giant sea-beast lying in wait for its prey. The Atlantic whirled and churned about them, turning the surface into a frenzy of foam. The waves made a deep, booming noise as they dashed themselves to spray on the rocks, drowning out the sound of the motor.

"There's the gap," Ronnie said. He pointed at a narrow channel filled with white foam between two tall rocks. "Once we're through, it will be calm. The shore's about fifty yards past."

He opened the throttle. The raft surged forward, slapping the waves.

Selena held on tight where she sat. I don't like this, she thought. I don't like this at all. She watched the rocks getting closer. The nearer they got, the sharper they looked. They entered the gap.

The water gripped the raft in a relentless fist. The raft swerved right and turned sideways.

"Current!" Ronnie yelled.

They struck the rocks. Selena heard the fabric rip open against the hard, sharp surface. The fuel cell ruptured. A pungent mix of gas and oil sprayed over her boots. Air rushed out of the front of the raft and water poured over the edge. The raft dipped and tilted and slammed against the rocks and she was thrown into the icy water. The Zodiac swung back and hit her in the head.

She went under, the weight of her gear pulling her down. A sudden, sharp pain cut through her pants and into her leg. The salt water was like fire in the wound. She fought the current, desperate for air, and broke the surface. She had time to draw in a breath before she was sucked under again. She fought the undertow and struggled and kicked until she broke into the air again.

The current let her go. She looked around for the others.

The raft was a crumpled mass, hung fast on the unforgiving rocks. The shredded fabric tossed and bobbed in the waves. She saw Ronnie break the surface not far away, then Nick.

They swam toward the shore until they could set their feet down and wade onto the island. The beach was a strip of fist-sized rocks and strewn sea wrack, six or seven feet wide. She fell to her knees, exhausted.

"Keep moving. Into the woods," Nick said. They got inside the line of trees and Nick held up his hand.

"All right. We deal with it." He saw the gash on Selena's leg. "You're hurt."

She looked down. Blood welled from the cut, black under the moon. She took her knife and slit the pants leg so she could see the wound. It was a nasty, ragged gash almost a foot long.

"Help me get it bandaged," she said.

Each of them carried a compact med kit designed for a quick patch in the field. Basic stuff to stop bleeding, stave off infection, sew something up, or bandage it. Nick began working on her.

"Going to leave a scar," he said. "You have to stop this. You'll catch up to me."

"Maybe I'll get a tattoo over it after it heals." She winced as Nick bandaged the injury. "Hearts and flowers in a vine. Or guns and roses."

"Death before dishonor," Ronnie said.

"A big heart with Mom inside it," Nick said. He stood. "Try it out."

She stood. It hurt, but the leg felt solid under her.

"Just a scratch," she said. "I'm fine."

"Okay. We lost the comm gear, the night vision stuff and the extra ammo, but we still have our weapons. Check to see what you've got for ammo."

They checked the pockets of their uniforms.

"Three extra mags for the MP-5, one in the gun," Ronnie said. "Two mags for the pistol, plus one in."

"My spare MP-5 mags are gone," Selena said. "Just the one in. I've got two extras for the pistol, one in."

"And I'm the same as Ronnie. Here." Nick handed her one of his MP-5 backups. Ronnie did the same. She put them in a pocket and shivered.

"90 rounds each. Make 'em count," Nick said. "It's cold, but we'll warm up as we move through the woods. We can't risk a fire. Check your weapons, dry things out as best you can. They'll work if they're wet, but get the water out."

"Your phone work?" Ronnie asked.

Nick took out the pouch with his phone. The pouch was soaked. He took the phone out. There was no signal.

"Nada. Maybe later."

They worked on drying out the guns. Then they set off through the woods for the garage near Harrison's house.

Somewhere in the darkness an owl hooted, a long, mournful cry.