Dead Asleep (16 page)
Authors: Jamie Freveletti
“I'm okay,” Emma said, “but Carrow isn't. Can you help me get him on the boat?” She pulled his mask off and held him so his face was to the sun.
“Let me throw you a line,” Oz said. “Wrap it around him and I'll try to pull him up.” He threw a rope into the water and Emma curled it around Carrow and knotted it. Then Oz pulled him through the water to the boat's edge. With Emma's help, Oz was able to haul Carrow over the side. She scrambled up the ladder and immediately began retracting the line.
“We've got to get out of here, fast,” she said.
“What happened down there? I felt turbulence, almost like an eruption, and the boat began to heave in the water.”
“I can't describe it. I got hit with nitrogen narcosis and I think Carrow did too because we both misread our compasses and the next thing I knew we got caught up in a riptide.”
Oz was bending over Carrow. He unzipped the wet suit, and Carrow took a deep, shuddering breath and opened his eyes.
“Oh thank God,” Emma said. “You have to breathe some oxygen.”
Carrow nodded and took the mask that Oz handed him.
“Oz, can you drive the boat?” Emma said.
Before Oz could answer, a gunshot cracked through the air.
T
he bullet slammed into the cooler holding the food and ricocheted into the air. Emma hit the deck, pulling Carrow's head lower as well.
“Stay down,” she said to him. “Some nut on another boat is shooting at us.” She did her best to remain calm, but her heart was thudding and her ears still rang from the rapid ascent. Carrow nodded and lay flat, never removing the mask from his nose.
“What the hell was that?” Oz said.
“Gunshot,” Emma said.
“Are you joking?” Oz's voice was incredulous.
She scrambled to the helm, pressed the button to raise the anchor and flipped the engines on, keeping them in neutral while the anchor retracted. The other boat was far to their starboard side but coming on fast.
“Grab the wheel, I'm getting the gun.”
Oz crouched low as he sidled over and took her place. “Pirates?” he asked. He kept his eye on the winding anchor as he spoke to her.
“Possible, but not likely. They're in the Caribbean, but not active over the blue holes. They're as afraid of them as Marwell is.”
“Then why shoot at us?”
“I have no idea.” She went to the gun box and removed the rifle, loaded it and headed to the starboard side, crouching behind the gunwale. She raised her head to look out and saw the boat speeding toward them. The engines on the cruiser turned over and Oz put the throttle down while steering them away from the other vessel. He remained low, driving the boat from his position next to the chair.
Emma took aim at the driver through the telescopic lens. She was an adequate shot under the ideal circumstances of a shooting range, but these circumstances were hardly that. The boat bounced up and down as it plowed through the water and bits of sea spray cascaded over her and the gun. The distance between the two vessels increased and Emma lowered the weapon. She hated to waste a bullet on an improbable shot. She made her way to the helm and grabbed the satellite phone. It was unable to make a connection. She slammed the receiver into its cradle.
“Satellite phone is down.” She reached for the radio. “I'll send a mayday.” She flipped on the radio but all she heard was static. She continued with a mayday, giving the coordinates for the blue holes. They were whizzing away, but any overhead craft might be able to fly in a concentric circle and find them. “Are we heading back to Terra Cay? I don't want these guys to herd us further out to sea.” She glanced at the GPS tracker, but it was dark. “Damn, the GPS is out.”
“What's wrong with the compass?” Oz said.
The compass on the dash was spinning erratically, twitching one way and then the other. Emma checked the compass on her watch and it, too, was alternating from point to point.
“I have no idea, but we've got to figure out which way is back.”
Oz kept the throttle down. They'd pulled away from the other boat, but any slight advantage they might have had initially was fading as it gave chase. Emma watched it buck up and down as it hammered directly into the oncoming waves.
“We're in the Bermuda Triangle, right?” Oz said. “Did we cross the agonic line? Could the compasses be readjusting to the electromagnetic change?” He was remarkably calm as he asked the question. Emma wasn't surprised that he knew about agonic lines. As a student at MIT and an amateur astronomer, he must have discussed the phenomenon. The agonic line was an imaginary line where true north and magnetic north aligned.
“I checked into that before I came to Terra Cay. The agonic line has been moving for years. It's currently over the Gulf of Mexico. I doubt it could be affecting the magnetic compasses and it would have no effect on the gyrocompass. Something is, though.”
“Check Carrow's. Maybe one is still functioning. I wasn't able to finish my calculations with the sextant. I just need a general idea of direction. We can fine-tune it once the instruments come back on line.”
Emma crawled to the aft and grabbed Carrow's belt, which was lying near the back of the cruiser where they'd dropped it after hauling him on board. His compass was behaving in the exact same manner.
“No change. It's messed up,” she called to Oz.
“They're gaining,” Oz said. He'd risen to sit in the captain's seat. Emma went back to stand next to him. They
were
gaining. She estimated that they would soon be within range. She went to the back of the boat, grabbing a towel that was next to the cooler. Lowering herself down against the gunwale, she put the towel on top and rested the gun's muzzle on it. The towel's cushioning helped keep the muzzle on line, but the shot was still going to be challenging. Carrow had risen to a sitting position and removed the oxygen mask. He watched her. She targeted the other vessel's driver, took a deep breath, and held it in preparation to squeeze the trigger.
The engines seized and the cruiser gave a violent lurch. Emma flew sideways and hit the opposite side with her back. Carrow slid across the deck and slammed into the cooler. The engines whined and their gears clanged.
“Sounds like a rod is stuck in them,” Carrow said. Emma, on her knees now, scrambled back to the aft section. Carrow joined her to peer over the transom at the engines.
The water behind the boat was black and churning, but the cruiser didn't move. It was as if something was holding them in place, trying to pull them underwater. Emma tried to see what was obstructing the engines, but the oily, dark water reduced the visibility. The boat gave another violent lurch, the stern shuddered, and the rear of the boat started to lower into the whirlpool that was forming.
“We're sinking,” Carrow said.
K
emmer watched as Joseph lowered the rifle.
“I missed. The waves are throwing off my aim. Get the boat closer and I'll try again.”
He spun the wheel and turned the boat toward the white cabin cruiser floating in the water almost a quarter mile away. Kemmer wasn't sure the weapon Joseph was wielding could accurately hit a target at that distance, but his immediate concern was doing what Joseph wanted. He cursed inwardly at his folly. The Vulture had taken advantage of his need for cash and gotten him caught up in attempted murder. Kemmer didn't know who owned the white cabin cruiser or why the Vulture had gone to such great lengths to intercept it on the ocean, and he didn't particularly care. His concern was that Joseph would kill him after he completed the assassination. The man didn't seem the type to let witnesses live.
Though he hadn't loaded dive equipment onto the boat, Kemmer did have a handgun in a compartment near the steering wheel, in addition to the bag of weapons he'd shown Joseph earlier. As he drove he plotted how he would retrieve the gun and shoot Joseph before Joseph would begin his cleanup. He had never killed anyone, but that didn't mean he wouldn't hesitate to dispatch Joseph if it meant saving his own life.
The water remained smooth and sparkling as Kemmer opened the throttle and began gaining on the cruiser. He watched the boat turn its nose away and start moving. He heard the distant roar of the engines. The cabin cruiser clearly had power, but it also had added weight in contrast to the smaller vessel that Kemmer drove. That weight would affect the larger boat's speed, and eventually he would gain on it. He urged some more speed out of his boat, and the engine's whine grew higher pitched as the machinery pulsed.
Joseph sat on a back bench seat with a sniper rifle in his hands and concentrated on the vessel ahead. Kemmer's speed made their boat slam into the waves and buck upward, sending both of them bouncing in the air. Joseph shot Kemmer an annoyed glance.
“Can't this thing stabilize? I can't be thrown around when I aim. I'll miss again.”
“Why didn't you wait until we were closer? Now they're running.”
“I don't need to get in a firefight. The more I can drop at a distance, the safer I am.”
“You think they have guns on board, too?”
“I doubt it, but I've learned never to assume anything.”
Kemmer wasn't pleased at that latest piece of information, but it made sense. If the boat ahead of him were cartel flunkies on a drug run, they'd have every type of weapon imaginable on board as well as the will to use them.
“Why are you after them? Who are they?” Kemmer said.
Joseph ignored both questions and remained silent.
“Did you hear me?” Kemmer said.
“It's none of your business. Just get this boat to stop bucking.”
“Only thing I can do to settle the boat is ease off the throttle. We won't go as fast, so it will take us longer to pull even.”
“No, keep it open all the way. I'll give you a signal when we get into a position that will give me a free shot. When I do, kill the engine.”
“Okay. Figure at least twenty minutes. That cruiser's a lot heavier, but it also has a couple of powerful engines on the back. We'll gain on them, but slowly.”
Joseph shrugged. “I don't care as long as we get there.”
“Looks like there are a couple of people on board. Who are you trying to kill?”
“All of them,” Joseph said.
E
mma aimed into the churning black water.
“Watch out,” she said to Carrow. Once he stepped aside, she fired. The water kept swirling and the boat sank a bit more. The waves started splashing over the transom's edge.
“Oz, jerk it to the right. Marwell said he dislodged his boat that way,” Emma said. Oz spun the wheel and the boat turned sideways in a sluggish move. The rear still remained in place.
“Try the other way,” Carrow said. Oz spun the wheel back and the boat began an equally sluggish correction, but whatever held it in place didn't release it. Emma glanced at the oncoming vessel.
“Get down.” She lowered herself back against the gunwale and replaced the towel. The water was dangerously close to not only rushing over the side but engulfing her weapon as it surged upward. She aimed and fired.
The other boat veered to the left. She peered through the scope and saw that she'd shot through the windshield but missed the driver. The sound of a gunshot signaled return fire, and a bullet embedded in the boat's side. The driver wasn't shooting; another person held the gun. Emma could just make out the shape of his head by the vessel's edge.
Their boat kept sinking lower and more water splashed over the side. Emma ignored the deluge and kept her gun up, tracking the attackers as they drove in a large circle. Carrow went to stand next to Oz at the helm. Oz spun the steering wheel from side to side as they attempted to dislodge the boat. The engines whined and Emma smelled a combination of burning gasoline and oil coming from them, but the boat stayed in place and the black whirlpool by the stern seemed to whip around faster.
A third shot sailed over them. Seawater splashed into Emma's face and she wiped her eyes before firing back. The shooter remained out of sight and she doubted that she'd hit him. She was breathing fast and inadvertently swallowed some of the ocean spray. It burned the inside of her throat and she coughed. She didn't want to spare a glance at whatever was hauling them downward, but the thought that they were going to die by either gunshot or drowning passed through her mind.
The other vessel continued to track around them in a circle, driving straight into the oncoming waves. Its engines roared and then cut out as the boat bounced high. While Emma had a slight advantageâthe immovability of the
Siren
meant that her shots had a halfway decent chance of landing near their target unlike the other shooter, who had to contend with the bucking motion of his boatâbut she knew that her advantage would disappear when the shooter came close enough to pick them off. The attack boat straightened and came toward them head on. Emma squeezed off two more shots in an attempt to stop them. She shattered the windshield and hit the bow.
Water was all around her. She had the vague impression that Carrow was bailing it out but didn't want to remove her eyes from their attackers long enough to confirm it. Oz kept the vessel moving from side to side, but without the benefit of engine push the
Siren
still didn't move much in either direction. Carrow came to kneel at her side.
“What the hell do they want?” he said.
“To kill us. Why, I don't know.”
She saw a flash of light as the sun reflected off the other man's weapon, and she targeted the location and fired. The other boat careened away once again, driving in a circle, but an ever tightening one. Soon they would be upon them and she would be embroiled in a firefight. She checked the clip.
“You might want to get below. They're almost on us, and up here you're an easy target,” Emma said.
“Oz has an idea that he wants to try. He's going to straighten us out and lower the throttle all the way. We may burn up the engines faster, but they're close to overheating now and it's worth a shot.”
Emma nodded without taking her eyes off the circling attack boat.
“What about the radio and GPS?”
“Still out. I've sent two more maydays.” Carrow watched the other boat circle. “Those aren't pirates,” he said in a flat voice. Emma glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
“You sound positive. Why?”
“I just know. Intuition. They're after us in a very personal fashion. It's my boat. Perhaps me.” He looked at her. “You have any enemies?”
Emma nodded. “A few.”
He gave her an assessing look before glancing at the water in the stern.
“Can you see if it's an animal holding us?”
Emma shook her head. “It's too dark. But whatever it is, it's winning. We're going lower every three minutes or so. In ten this whole section will be under. From there the rest will just drop like a stone.”
“So either be picked off by the shooter or go below and drown,” Carrow said. It was as if he had read her thoughts. But she didn't want to agree, at least not openly.
“Or we try Oz's idea and hope for the best.”
“I'll tell Oz to get on it.”
“And then maybe get below.”
Carrow shook his head. “I'll stay up here with you both. I'm not dying alone.”
Oz looked over from the helm.
“I'm going to straighten her out and give it one more shot,” he said.
Carrow left her side and returned to bailing. The engines continued clanking and whining. Emma watched the other vessel approach and did her best to settle her mind and focus only on the boat. She ignored the rising water and tried to ignore the fact that something strange had grabbed hold of them and was dragging them into the deep.
She heard the other boat's engine seize. It, too, came to a dead stop. The man with the gun flew toward the front of the vessel and Emma heard him yell. The black churning wake formed around the back of the other boat and the aft section began lowering into the turbulence. Emma wanted to shout in exultation as she saw it shift violently. Its nose pointed upward and the stern down. Considerably lighter than the
Siren
, it was sinking faster. She heard the yell of the driver and for the first time the shooter stood up, seemingly heedless of the open target he'd become. He stalked to the rear of the boat, aimed his weapon and shot four times in rapid succession into the water. Emma could have told him not to waste his bullets. The boat continued to sink.
She felt a lurch, and the
Siren
's aft section rose higher in the water. The engines gave a roar and the wake behind the boat grew even more turbulent.
“Come on, you son of a bitch, let go!” Carrow yelled. The
Siren
surged forward. It was as if whatever was holding them had heard Carrow and obeyed. Oz whooped and Carrow laughed out loud.
“Go, go, go!” he yelled. Oz kept the throttle down and the boat surged through the waves.
Emma kept her eye on the other boat, but the driver had joined the shooter at the back. He held a gun with a bayonet on the end and was repeatedly stabbing it into the churning water. The boat, though, didn't move. Even as they pulled away Emma could hear the misfiring of the other vessel's engines. She glanced at her watch. It had taken them twenty minutes to get whatever was holding their boat down to release them. They were some of the longest twenty minutes of her life so far. She could only hope it would take the other boat equally as long.
As they sped away. Emma watched the boat grow smaller in the distance. When they were out of range she emptied the gun and moved up next to Oz. She placed it on an undercounter shelf.
“Are the compasses still going haywire?” she asked. Oz nodded. He was pale, but his face had a determined look.
“I'm just going to try to get as far away from that boat as I can.”
“I'm going to help Carrow get the pumps working,” she told him. “How much fuel do we have?”
“Half a tank and two extra cans in the hold. That's thanks to Marwell. He overprovisioned us.”
“Thank God for the gun,” Emma said.
“And here we thought we'd be shooting monsters with it, not humans.”