Dead Asleep (20 page)

Chapter 34

O
z pointed to the radar. Emma watched the blinking light that indicated another vessel.

“How far?”

“Less than a mile.”

“Can you change direction?”

Oz nodded. “I already did. We're not heading exactly toward Terra Cay's dock, though. We'll be landing at the mangrove side.”

“We can skirt around once we're closer, right?” Emma said.

“Sure. Assuming the weather holds up. According to the radar, we should be able to outrun the storm and reach Terra Cay before it does, which is a good thing. We should be on the island before it reaches land.”

“How bad is the storm?”

“I'm not good enough at reading the radar to be able to tell you, but it's not swirling like a hurricane would be. The winds around us have picked up, but nothing drastic.”

Emma grabbed a towel and returned to her position at the port side. She replaced the rifle muzzle on the gunwale. She agreed with Oz that in the twenty minutes that she'd been below the wind had picked up and the air had the heavy feeling of an impending rainstorm. She wondered if the other ship's radar was running or if he, too, was having sporadic outages. Carrow came to crouch at her side.

“Kemmer settled down.”

“Good,” Emma said. “It will keep him out of our hair.”

“Can you hear the other boat?”

Emma took a deep breath and closed her eyes, relying only on her sense of hearing to pick out any noise of a boat. The only sounds that greeted her were those of their engines, waves, and wind.

“No. Can you?”

Carrow shook his head. “I hate knowing it's out there, though. Wonder what the guy has against us.”

“Or me,” Emma said.

“Think Kemmer was lying when he claimed not to know?”

Emma thought a moment. “Actually, I don't. His story seemed plausible. He needed money and didn't spend too much time asking questions of his angel investor.”

“More like devil investor.” The boat picked up speed, and Carrow rose and walked to the helm. “Why the increase in speed?” he said to Oz.

“Other boat is gaining on one side and the tropical storm seems to be moving in faster on the other. We're going to get caught in a pincer if we don't. We need to get back. How much more do you think this boat has?”

Carrow leaned in to look at the gauges. “A lot. I say hammer it. We need to hustle.”

Oz increased the speed. The spray intensified, and Emma soon abandoned the idea of keeping watch. The water would eventually soak the weapon, and she doubted that the other boat was faring any better in the dark. Plus, the shooter was alone. He could either drive the boat or shoot a rifle, but he couldn't do both. She would handle the problem when it appeared. She stashed the rifle and went back to the cabin to check on Kemmer.

He was awake and staring at the ceiling. The gauze she'd wrapped around his arm was soaked through with blood. Emma held onto a rail as the boat slammed into a wave. Kemmer turned his head to look at her.

“He out there?”

Emma nodded. “About a mile to port.”

“He's a killer and he's coming after us all.”

“Not you. Why should he kill you?”

“I'm a witness.”

“What's your business? The one that was in financial trouble?”

“Prostitution and hash. In Amsterdam. Legal.” He inhaled deeply. “I should have just paid the damn taxes and been done with it. I tried to get creative with my returns and they caught me. So I saved a few hundred thousand here and there. Wasn't worth this.” He looked at his stump. “Is that guy with you Richard Carrow, the rock singer?”

Emma nodded.

Kemmer coughed. “Now there's the life. Party all night long. Must be great. Happy life.”

Emma didn't respond. She didn't think Carrow's life was all that happy at the moment. She wondered how the rest of his band were faring and if anyone else had taken ill. Something about the events at the villa bothered her. She doubted they were solely drug induced, but she couldn't imagine what was causing them.

“Where was Joseph from, did he say?”

Kemmer shook his head. “Had a New York accent. Not an islander.”

“Think he knows how to drive a boat? Use the radar?”

“Doubtful, but it's not all that tough to do. He struck me as a shrewd guy and a real survivor. He'll figure it out.”

“Did you supply the gun he was using?” Kemmer turned his head to meet her gaze.

“You calling me an arms dealer?”

“Yes.”

“What makes you think that?”

The boat lurched again and Emma danced sideways as she tried to regain her balance. She sat down on a high stool at the corner of the galley.

“Guns go along with drugs and prostitution. Even legal drugs and prostitution.”

“Yeah, well you've got a point there, but no. He brought his own weapon.”

“So a pro.”

“Through and through. What's the money man got against you?”

Emma sighed. “You mean the corporate raider? I have no idea. But something tells me it's about the minerals I was mining in the blue holes. Someone doesn't want me to gain access to them.”

“So stop mining them.”

“I do that and my company will be in financial trouble.”

“Is your life worth the money?”

“Of course not, but I doubt that Joseph will back off now.”

Kemmer coughed. “You're right. He's being paid to bring us down. He won't go back until he has. Could be he'll be killed if he fails.”

“A circle of death. The snake swallows its tail.”

“You were holding your own with the rifle. Think you can bring him down?”

Emma heard Carrow calling to her from topside and she stood.

“If he forces my hand I'll have to.”

Chapter 35

B
anner's phone rang in his ear, waking him from a fitful night of tossing and turning. He answered it when he saw that it was Susan Plower.

“I have good news, bad news, and really bad news,” Plower said. Banner reached over to the bedside lamp and switched it on. He plumped the pillow he'd been sleeping on behind his back and grabbed the one next to him, exposing the nine-millimeter gun he kept underneath. He added the additional pillow and settled in to listen.

“Give me the good news.”

He heard her sigh. “We've learned that the unusual weapon is a limited production. Apparently the material needed to make it is in short supply.”

“Well that
is
good news,” Banner said. The clock on the bed table registered eleven-thirty in the evening. Plower was working late for a government official. “And the bad news?”

“We've gotten word that a sale will go down sometime in the next twenty-four hours. Recent intelligence has pinpointed a small island called Terra Cay as the possible site. We believe the bidders are there already.”

Caldridge's blue minerals
. Banner felt pleased that she'd led him to the right location for the sale, even if by accident.

“I've got both Emma Caldridge and Cameron Sumner, two of my best agents, down there already. Can you give me an idea where or who on Terra Cay is responsible?”

“No. At least not with any real accuracy. They're going to have to root around.”

“That's manageable. So if that's the bad news, what's the really bad news?”

“The CDC has just informed me there is a disease spreading across the island. Apparently people are falling asleep and not waking up. The first cases were members of the band, Rex Rain.”

“What kind of disease makes you sleep?”

“There are a few. An African sleeping sickness brought on by a tsetse fly is one.” Banner knew of that one. He'd encountered it in Africa when he was stationed there. “But we don't think that's what's happening at Terra Cay, and Rex Rain hasn't toured in Africa for over two years. And even then they remained in Johannesburg, which doesn't have a reputation for the disease.

“The CDC is cataloging other symptoms as well. The afflicted are having hallucinations, seizures, and engage in psychotic behavior before they fall asleep. They do match a rare and deadly disease called Encephalitis Lethargica. It swept through Europe and America in the early 1900s. Five million people contracted the disease during the years before the Spanish flu of 1918 and of those nearly a million perished. Of those that survived, many stayed trapped in their bodies, frozen like statues and unable to move unless directed. They lived in nursing home facilities until they died.”

“Lovely. Any treatments work so far?”

“None. It's incurable”

Banner sat up straighter. “What's the plan? Because Sumner just landed. I can recall him before he gets infected, but Caldridge has been there for days.”

“The CDC has asked the appropriate authorities in the area to quarantine the island, and they've agreed and are preparing the order now. It will be exit screening initially. No flights allowed out and no boats or planes from Terra Cay allowed entry at neighboring locations. The island is fairly remote, so the hope is that we can contain this thing before it goes any further. There's a tropical storm on the way, which has been helpful, because travel to the island was already tapering in its path. We've asked the local sheriff to fly to the Bahamas, where he'll be kept in a cordon sanitaire and debriefed.”

“And the remaining islanders?”

“I'm afraid they're stuck waiting it out. And that includes your agents.”

“What are their odds of contracting this disease?”

“I wish I could tell you. The CDC scientists emphasized that they have no idea how it's contracted or spread.”

“What about the sale? Do you think it will proceed? Whoever is involved has to have heard about the illness.”

“One thing that we've learned about pandemics is that people don't react the way you'd expect. Our source says that the seller appears to think an empty island is even better. Especially if the local law enforcement is gone.”

“Not worried about contracting it themselves?”

“Who knows? Maybe they think they can take precautions and be spared. The CDC says there will always be people who go about their day, blithely believing that whatever illness is out there won't affect them no matter how many dire warnings the CDC issues. It's a source of frustration to them.”

“If the CDC thinks that people ignoring their warnings is frustrating, they should work in contract security, where everyone you deal with seems bent on killing each other.”

Plower sighed. “It does seem hopeless at times, doesn't it? But what do you think? Do you think they'd stay and go forward with the sale? Or move it to a new location?”

Banner considered the question. “They'll stay. These guys are massive risk takers. They're risking apprehension, jail time, or even death, and they risk it daily. And they're right, it's a fantastic opportunity to conduct a sale free of interruption by the authorities. They'll roll the dice. How will the quarantine be enforced?”

“Initially by grounding the local transportation and notifying the neighbors to screen and turn away incoming passengers. The impending tropical storm will keep most casual boaters away and they'll take advantage of that fact. After the storm has passed the WHO is going to send a mission to collect samples and determine the status.”

Banner heard the door to the house open and quietly close. Stromeyer was back.

“I'll get Sumner on the search for the arms dealers. In the meantime, can you keep me informed as to the quarantine status?”

“Will do,” Plower said. She rang off and Banner headed to the kitchen, where he heard Stromeyer rooting around and the sound of cabinet doors opening and closing. He found her there, with a pretzel stick in one hand and a jar of horseradish mustard in the other.

“Hungry?” he said. She put the pretzel stick in her mouth while she used a spoon to place a small amount of the mustard on a saucer. When she was done she removed the stick and dipped it.

“Starving. I've been moving between St. Barths, St. Kitts, and St. Martin in order to shake any possible tails before I came here. And I have news.”

Banner slid into a kitchen chair to listen. She put the pretzel bag in the center of the table along with the mustard dip. He waved it off.

“The woman hanging from the tree has been identified as Irina Canenov. Mistress of Ivan Shanaropov, a Russian billionaire.”

“Where have I heard that name?”

“He's a financier that seems to have an unstoppable stream of money that derives from shadowy sources. It's likely that you've read about him before.”

“Does he live in St. Martin? Is that why she was there?”

Stromeyer shook her head. “He lives in Terra Cay, where he has a massive gated estate.”

Banner reached over and took a pretzel stick. “Well that's interesting. Is he there now?”

Stromeyer nodded. “He is. And sources tell me that he filed a missing person report on his girlfriend.”

“Covering his tail.”

Stromeyer nodded. “I thought that as well. Seems that Ms. Canenov is the third woman he's dated who has disappeared from sight.”

“Really? Is no one keeping tabs on this guy?”

Stromeyer shook her head. “He has alibis for all the times that they've gone missing. He claims the Russian government is abducting them and holding them, with the exception of Ms. Canenov of course, in an attempt to lure him back home, where they will imprison him for manipulating the oil and gas markets there.”

Banner snapped his fingers. “That's what I've heard about him. He's a speculator. Well, not to worry, I think he's met his match.”

Stromeyer raised an eyebrow. “Really? Who?”

“Not who, what. Seems as though a disease is sweeping through Terra Cay that's putting everyone to sleep. If he's there, he's at risk.”

“What about Caldridge and Sumner?”

“Also at risk, I'm afraid.”

Stromeyer frowned. “Anything we can do for them?”

Banner shook his head. “It's incurable. Best we can hope is that they manage to avoid it.”

“So they're trapped on an island with a Russian killer and a deadly disease.”

“I'm trying not to look at it that way.”

Stromeyer gave him a surprised look. “What other way is there to look at it?”

“He's trapped on an island with one of the brightest chemists in the world who is not afraid to pick up a gun when she needs to, and her friend is one of the best shots in the western hemisphere. If I were Shanaropov, I'd be worried.”