Pleasing the Dead (22 page)

Chapter Forty

On her way out, Storm grabbed the canvas bag that had been used in her capture. Now that she could see it, she recognized the rough sack as the type that stored lines and other nautical equipment. It had
Quest
stenciled on the outside.

Stella and Keiko were close behind, and all three women tiptoed through the low door into what passed for a galley. The boat was configured in a typical fashion for a dive boat. Only the forward cabin and the toilets had privacy, and the women now stood under the bridge in a large seating area, which was half in open air, half under cover of the bridge. It was enough space for at least a dozen people to mill around, take off gear, relax on the cushioned banquettes, and mostly stay out of the way of the crew.

To the women's great relief, the space was empty. All three of them had been poised to challenge whatever guard was posted, and no one was there. Someone was steering from the bridge directly overhead, but he couldn't see them, as they stood under him. The reprieve was palpable; someone behind Storm released a long, pent-up breath.

Storm realized she'd anticipated confronting Damon. She wanted to tell him what a traitorous scumbag he'd turned out to be.

So where was he? And where were Obake's people?

If Storm was going to commandeer a boat and take hostages, she'd have had someone posted in the stern, where he or she could watch both the cabin and the helm. Someone else would be fore, and she'd want another person moving around.

The women faced aft, toward a rock outcropping that defined the outer limit of the bay. Waves hit the lava rocks and flowed over their broad, imposing shoulders. Because the boat had recently turned, they were about a quarter mile from the most prominent boulders. The shore itself, part rocky and part sandy, was at least a half mile away.

The women eyed the long, empty banquettes uneasily. “I thought Lara would be out here,” Keiko whispered.

One of the bench cushions lay on the deck and another was knocked askew, which gave the impression either someone had been in a big hurry to find something in the storage compartment beneath the seat, or there'd been a scuffle.

“Maybe she's inside the banquette,” Stella whispered. Her eyes darted from the dislodged cushion to Storm.

“We can't go out there now, the captain will see us,” Keiko said.

Stella nodded. “The others must be forward.”

She and Keiko looked pale and scared, but Stella held the knife blade and Keiko carried the fire extinguisher. Both were alert and poised for action.

Storm pulled on a line that had been left on deck. Another sign of either carelessness or a struggle, she thought. A rope like this should be stowed under the banquette, or some place where it wouldn't tangle and no one would trip over it. She wound it into a loose coil and slipped the loop over her shoulder.

The women stood for several minutes, waiting to see if someone would come to check on them. It would be better to ambush someone coming from the forward deck, as this person would be clambering along the narrow starboard or port decks, than to be the one climbing. Vigilant, no one spoke. No one approached, either.

The twin diesels throbbed beneath their feet, and the boat reached the other end of the bay, where the captain reversed its path. Keiko bent her knees and rode the surge caused by the ocean swells behind them. Storm had heard this called the following sea, and knew it could swamp a boat on a rough day. The boat rode it easily, like a cork. Stella put out a hand and braced herself against a small sink. Storm swallowed to get her stomach out of her throat. The vessel turned 180 degrees to head back across the large bay.

The women steadied themselves, and Storm held up a hand. “I'll go up,” she whispered softly, and pointed toward the helm. “Once I'm up there, go in different directions.”

Stella looked alarmed at the implication that Storm might not be successful, but Keiko gave a grim nod.

Storm had no time to spare. The ladder sat starboard of center, which was, after the last turn, on the ocean side of the boat. If the captain was keeping his eye toward shore, his attention would be away from the ladder. She had to sneak up on him before he made another turn. And once her head rose to the level of the bridge, she had to be fast.

She climbed. The ladder was only five vertical steps, a little more than four feet.

The helmsman heard her. “You came up for the view?” he asked without turning around. He thought she was someone else, cocky bastard.

“Yep,” said Storm, and pulled the bag over his head in a smooth motion. At the same time, she leaped to throw her weight against him. Though she'd aimed for his shoulders, he was at least six feet tall, the chair was higher than she'd anticipated, and he outweighed her by more than fifty pounds. She only knocked him half-way.

Startled, he shot sideways, and his shorts slid on the shiny plastic of the high captain's chair. Reflexively, he seized the nearest stationary object, which was the boat's wheel. The
Quest
skewed in a sharp U and the deck tilted suddenly. A shriek of alarm came from below.

Storm hoped no one had fallen overboard, but she didn't have time to stop and look, or even call out. She, too, reeled with surprise. Right before she'd pulled the bag over his head, Ken McClure had turned his head, shock and confusion on his handsome face. Her own expression must have mirrored his.

What was he doing at the wheel? He was probably Lara's most important colleague at the dive shop, her second in command. She had never seen Ken and Damon in conversation, though she had to admit she hadn't spent enough time in the shop to know how the men interacted. Perhaps they'd kept their relationship hidden from Lara, too.

He clung to the wheel with one hand and grappled with the bag over his head with the other. He also screamed bloody murder, or threatened it in a muffled rant, while he kicked out with one muscular, violent leg. He had wrapped the other leg around the chair pedestal with his foot hooked under the circular footrest.

At least he couldn't see where to aim his kicks. Storm body-checked him again, higher and harder.

The slick, waterproof upholstery of the chair seat was a big help. So was the kicking leg, which thrashed to reestablish balance. Storm gave it a push to tip him further.

This final shove accomplished what Storm intended, and the man crashed to the floor with a scream. But when he went down, the foot in the circular footrest was trapped. His ankle snapped with a sound that nearly made Storm gag.

He screamed again, thrashed against the bag over his head. The leg twisted in its aluminum noose. It popped free, bent at an angle that sickened Storm. She could see the sharp edges of bone poking at the skin.

Pain must have overcome him, because he flopped once more and lay still. Storm was relieved, for herself and for him. She straightened him onto his side, bad leg on top.

He didn't respond; the man was out cold. The leg looked awful, the jagged bones ready to pop through. As it was, he had to be bleeding internally. She tied his hands behind his back, but didn't secure him to anything. To do that, she'd have to move him to one of the stanchions that held the canopy, and the thought of dragging that leg into another position made her skin crawl.

Storm glanced one last time at Ken's motionless form, then noticed with a gasp that the boat was only fifty feet or so from the rocky point that defined the bay. Boulders sharp enough to slice through an aluminum hull like diamonds cutting coal hulked below the surface of the water.

She leaped into the captain's chair and jerked the wheel starboard. There was a rock only a few feet from the prow. Storm knew that water distorted distance, but she didn't know how much. Nor did she have any idea of the
Quest
's draw. Five feet? Ten? The black shape looked like she could stand on it and keep her head out of water.

Scuttling the boat might be a good escape strategy, but she couldn't do it until she knew where Keiko and Stella were. They were looking for Lara, and if all three were trapped below, it would be a terrible plan. She had to keep the vessel safe until she knew that everyone was free.

From the flying bridge, Storm had a good view of the sea and the fore and aft decks. The foredeck was empty. So was what she could see of the salon, except she knew how easy it was to hide in the galley area.

Who had cried out when Ken grabbed the wheel? Storm thought it had been a woman's voice, and her eyes swept the water. Where was she?

No people, but something big was under the boat—

Wait, she could see part of a person on the port deck. Behind the rise of the cabin, she could make out the bend of a leg; the rest of the person was hidden. Keiko or Stella? God, she hoped not. She stood up to get a better look, but she also had to watch where she was steering the boat.

Whoever it was hadn't moved. It looked like a man's leg, which pleased her. Maybe Keiko had bashed someone with that fire extinguisher.

She hoped the young woman had tied him up securely. Any of Obake's people could overcome her the same way she'd overwhelmed the helmsman. The boat's starboard side faced land now, but she'd have to turn again, which would make her more vulnerable.

Her best option would be to get the
Quest
in a safe position and leave the helm. The few times she'd helped friends with their boats, anchors were stowed in a forward hold. As she remembered, setting one was a noisy operation. She was wary of attempting it alone, especially when she didn't know where the rest of the crew was. She would be in a bad position if the enemy caught her leaning out over the water with a heavy object in her hands.

They were about a half mile out and there was little wind, though there were small swells, which would eventually carry the boat in. The breeze was off-shore, though, which would counteract the push of the ocean toward shore. Storm wasn't an expert on boats, but she understood swells and currents from surfing. She knew the ocean was unpredictable. Chances were good it would push them onto the rocky shoals.

So how much time would she have if she drove to the middle of the bay and left the helm? She simply didn't know, and Keiko and Stella still weren't visible.

Except for the unconscious Ken and someone's inert leg, no one was evident. Where were Obake's men, and the rest of the crew? Where was Damon, that traitorous scumbag?

Did that motionless form on the port deck belong to Lara? Why hadn't Keiko or Stella helped her?

Storm eyed the rocks on the other side of the bay, and gently turned the wheel. No sudden movements this time. She didn't want to draw attention to the helm. Storm concentrated on the currents and the vessel's rise and fall in the sea. She kept the
Quest
on the course Ken had followed.

The only other people within view were on shore, where a burly man in swim trunks and goggles seemed to be shouting at two tall, thin guys in suits. Though the heavy guy was stomping around and pointing at his watch, the incongruity of suits on the beach was what caught her eye.

Storm looked around for binoculars, but Ken hadn't left a pair nearby. Next, she looked for a boat horn or a radio, but didn't see either. Could she wave at these people for help?

When a woman's urgent voice shouted from behind her, she almost jumped out of the captain's chair.

Chapter Forty-one

“Storm!” Keiko yelled.

Storm spun to see a man struggling in Keiko's grasp. With his arms tied behind his back, he lurched and stumbled across the rolling deck.

Thrashing against Keiko's restraints, he went down hard and swore. Though many of the words were unintelligible, the F's sprayed saliva. The fall hadn't hurt his mouth any. He winced when Keiko hauled him up by his hands. Storm suppressed a sympathy grimace; Keiko knew exactly how sore his shoulders would be.

“Fuckin-A, ya fuckin' bitches. I'm just helpin' Ken.”

Storm realized her mouth was hanging open. It was the guy she'd seen in the dive shop, hanging around with Ken. He'd caught her eye because he'd been shirtless—a bit cocky, she'd thought—and one arm had a colorful tattoo of a bald eagle carrying a round ball with a fuse. He was still shirtless, and the eagle on his deltoid muscle practically flapped its wings with the fellow's aggravation. Those surf trunks looked familiar, too. A wardrobe as extensive as his vocabulary.

“Now you know what we felt like.” Stella kicked at the back of his bare heels.

The man gave a little hop and snarled over his shoulder at her. “Ow.” He choked back a few indecipherable words.

Stella drew back her sneaker again, threatening. He jerked left to avoid her and bumped into Keiko, who gave him a hard shove, then kept him from falling by hauling back on his arms again.

The women were indignant and showed it.

“You know this guy?” Storm asked them.

“His name's Billy,” Keiko said. “He's a friend of Ken's.”

Billy glowered at Storm. “Looka that. The fuckin' lawyer.”

All three women ignored him.

“We found Damon,” Stella said. “He's unconscious and tied up.”

Storm pointed toward the inert leg. “Is that Damon?”

“Fuckin' traitor,” Billy muttered.

“Traitor?” Storm asked. “Why?”

Billy looked at the blade Stella was holding. “Cuz he gave that to you.”

“How do you know I didn't have it in my bra?” Stella asked.

“You could hide a whole tool chest in there, couldn't you?” Billy snickered, which elicited a shoulder-wrenching pull from Keiko.

“You're in no position to be rude.”

He grunted out a few more obscenities, then leaned toward Stella. “But you didn't have it in there, did you? We checked.”

Stella's smile turned to an expression of disgust and her hand flew to her chest. Billy sneered. “Damon slipped it under the door.”

“Why'd he do that?” Keiko asked.

“Wimpy fucker felt guilty.”

“Why'd you kidnap us?” Storm asked.

“Orders. We were gonna let you go. No big deal.”

Storm doubted every word that came out of the man's mouth. No big deal? She felt like spitting at him, but it wouldn't help. Plus, she'd probably miss and hit one of the women.

“Why did you want us on this boat?” Stella asked.

“Get you out of the way for a while. For your own good.”

“Oh sure.” Keiko tugged his arms. Tendons bulged all the way from his shoulders up his neck. It looked as if he tried not to cry out.

“Did you break into my hotel room?” Storm asked.

“Your hotel room? Hell, no.” He seemed to think for a minute. “The local syndicate might have, though.”

“Working with them doesn't bother you?”

Billy looked at her and tried to shrug, but Keiko gave the rope another wrap around her fist, and he flinched reflexively.

“Where's Lara?” Stella asked.

“She's around,” Billy said. He acted like she was getting her nails done.

“Where?”

“I don't know. Whaddya think, I'm her babysi—”

“Jesus!” Storm shouted. A silhouette had passed under the boat, visible for a split second in her peripheral vision. She swerved away from it at the same time a swell rolled under the boat. At least she thought it was a swell.

The shadow glided by again, close to the boat's hull. Huge, half the length of the
Quest
. Dark, with a blunt head and a tapering tail. It was a brief glimpse, but every atavistic gene in her subconscious knew that shape.