Tortugas Rising (13 page)

More guards had entered the room where Katherine sat huddled with the other hostages. There were now two dozen total, each wearing the same black outfit and carrying the same menacing machine gun. The hostages had not been approached or spoken to since they were placed in the conference room. The guards had just stared through black eyes from behind the hoods.

But something had changed – they were now talking to each other. One of the new men leaned close to one of the original guards, murmuring softly. Katherine could not make out the words. With the masks covering their mouths she could not even read their lips.

The posted guard looked back at the hostages. He let his rifle sling to his side and approached them. He lifted his palms to indicate that they should stand.

The hostages hesitated. A shot rang out behind. Another guard had fired his pistol into the plaster ceiling. Debris filtered down. The guard fired a second shot, and the first guard gestured again.

The crowd rose on unsteady feet.

The commanding guard drew his rifle back. The other men in black moved in amongst the crowd and separated them into groups of four.

Vinnie held close to Katherine and Brittany, placing himself between the girls and the guards. Brittany gasped as one of the kidnappers approached their group. Vinnie reached back and grabbed her hand.

Once the groups of four were formed, the armed men began to lead them out the door. Vinnie Carlito tried to position himself, the girls, and another older man to be the last group out the door.

He offered a hand to the older gentlemen who was breathing heavily and looked to be in pain. It was an act of courtesy and concern, but at the same time it allowed Vinnie to stall, making his group as the last in line. The apprehension in the group had oddly waned over the last couple of hours. Now it returned.

Two guards escorted each group through the hotel.

Katherine wondered, like everyone, where they were going and what these men wanted. It was silly to try and stop the island project’s progress now. All but one island was completely reclaimed. Did they seek revenge for what they saw as a crime against nature?

She found herself standing closer to Vinnie. His identity was still in question, but he seemed to have their best interests in mind.

Did he know Steve? Was it just a miscommunication? Steve and Paul had come at the last minute. Perhaps Vinnie did work for Steve.

No. She shook her head more confused than ever. His name was not in the file. She had memorized the guest list and the only surprises were Steve, Paul, and the terrorists that now led them down a dark hallway.

# # #

They walked the grounds trying to be as cautious and inconspicuous as possible while wearing elegant evening wear. Steve was already thankful for the Skechers. They hid the sound of his footsteps.

Paul touched the USP in his waistband to reassure himself it was still there. In addition to the gun, he’d pulled a full clip from Savage’s body; which he’d stowed in his jacket pocket.

Steve kept the smaller XD in his trouser pocket. Its size made it easy to slip in; its weight made it a challenge for the trousers’ built-in belt. Steve found himself constantly adjusting, trying to compensate for the pistol’s heft.

Bare paths and dim lights were all that met them on the walk to the hotel. They had seen no other guards since the ones by the villa. They heard no voices. They may have been responding to a call from Savage’s men, but the lack of activity made little sense.

The hotel was well-lit and quiet. Steve and Paul stopped just across from the entrance. Steve pulled the itinerary from his jacket pocket.

“They should be in a place called the Amber Room. Some formal dinner.” Steve said.

“And, undoubtedly another lecture from the King of Creativity.”

“I’m sure we’re on the guest list. We could just walk in.”

“If you trust Baxter, but you don’t.”

Steve nodded, “We can’t be sure he didn’t order Savage to kill us. Any ideas?”

Paul thought for a moment and came up with nothing. “I’m all out of great ideas. I did the runaway boat thing, tackling you off the other boat, and sticking a gun in your back. Anything I think of now might get us hurt.”

“I don’t know what else to do. We have to talk to Baxter. If Savage was acting on his own, Warren shouldn’t be upset that we killed him.”

“You killed him. I just shot him.”

“Either way, it shouldn’t matter. He’ll call in the cops and get it taken care of.”

“Fine. So what’s the plan?”

# # #

They approached the large doors of the Amber Room. Inside they could hear music. Steve pushed open the door. A sea of men in black ties and women in their finest gowns milled about the room. They were celebrating.

Steve scanned the crowd for Katherine. He couldn’t find her but wouldn’t be surprised if she had decided to skip the party and rest.

A hand landed on Steve’s shoulder. His stomach knotted. Just walking in hadn’t been the best idea. Bennett turned to face the man with the hand. Warren Baxter’s grin was bigger than he had seen it all day. Steve could see his reflection in the old man’s teeth.

“Steve, my boy! I’m so glad to see you here. You don’t know how happy I am. I trust everything went well on the island.”

Steve felt his muscles relax. He hadn’t realized that he had quit breathing. He didn’t figure that he would ever enjoy seeing the corny old man’s smile. He sighed. “We need to talk, Mr. …”

Warren stopped him with the wave of his finger.

“Warren,” Steve continued.

“Absolutely. I’m thrilled you’ve joined us here tonight. You must have a million questions. But, I’m afraid our conversation must wait. I’m about to break the big news. The real name of this place.”

“It’s important.”

“Not as important as this.” Warren gestured to the podium. “I’m sure you have a ton of questions. Savage obviously didn’t have time to fill you in on everything. We’ll talk after I start the real party.”

With this Warren Baxter sauntered off towards the podium. Ever the showman, he stood behind the mic and bellowed. “Ladies and Gentlemen. Welcome to our new nation.”

“ImagiNation.” Paul said mockingly.

“The Liberated States of America.”

The room erupted in applause.

Steve and Paul spun to the face the podium in time to see a drape behind Baxter collapse to the ground. A large map behind him displayed the islands. They had seen the image a thousand times in the countless pieces of literature in the prospectus, on the web site, in their luxury hut. But, now, across the islands were the words that Warren Baxter had just spoken. The Liberated States of America.

“This is the eve of the birth of a nation. A great nation. A nation without poverty. Without crime. A nation built by all of us from the ground up. A nation created like no other to be the greatest nation in the world. The L.S.A.”

“The L.S.A.?” Steve whispered.

“It does sound better than ImagiNation.”

“What’s going on?” Steve looked around again for Katherine. Did she know about this? Where was she?

Baxter continued. His genuine enthusiasm replaced the false grins he had been putting forward over the course of the day.

“The Liberated States of America is the realization of all our dreams; and tonight we are here to celebrate what we have accomplished – what we have built together. A perfect nation. A perfect world. An independent state that will grow on our ideals. A nation that will prosper without the burden of common men. What freedoms have been taken from us are now ours again. What restrictions have been imposed on us are now lifted. This is our country, ladies and gentlemen. And, we will only share it with those who we see fit. In one week we will secede from the Union. Remove ourselves from the United States and become one unto ourselves.

“Accountable to no one. Answering to no man. We will rule ourselves as we wish to be ruled. On your own island, there shall be only your law. It is your land. No one else’s. But we shall share in the prosperity of the L.S.A. This paradise will better Disney World in attraction. The casinos will rival Las Vegas in the take. And we all shall share in the windfall.”

The rhetoric went on. Baxter promised everything: peace, prosperity, security, leisure, and more. He didn’t read from a teleprompter or deliver a rehearsed speech. He spoke with passion. It was frightening.

“Holy crap, Baxie is the evil mastermind behind this.” Paul tried to whisper but was too stunned. The applause drowned out his words.

Steve could hardly speak. “I can’t believe this.”

“Actually, it makes sense. I mean he’s got a giant map and everything.”

“How could…?” Steve trailed off.

Steve had turned ashen. Paul put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Steve, it’s okay. It’s not like you fell for this. You’re not a part of it. It was your…oh, right.”

Steve shrugged Paul’s hand from his shoulder. “Let’s try and find Katherine and get out of here.”

They started to move through the crowd. Steve peered into the traitorous cliques, trying to spot Katherine’s long dark hair.

Baxter was lost in his own fervor. The crowd wailed in approval as he struck the podium. Even with the microphone, Baxter had to shout to be heard over the cheers of the crowd.

The large doors to the Amber Room opened once more. Baxter didn’t miss a beat. “And our island nation shall be secure. Thanks to our Secretary of Defense, General Richard Savage.”

Steve and Paul crouched a half a foot each. They slowly rose to hide the conspicuous movement. They couldn’t see Savage clearly. They did catch glimpses of the stringy dark hair and the crimson scar. It burned furiously as the man made his way to the stage.

Steve and Paul could not picture Savage saying anything they wanted to hear. They backed against the wall and began to look for a door. The crowd’s pats and handshakes slowed Savage’s movement; Baxter continued to praise the man.

Steve and Paul found a door and stumbled into a long hallway.

“You said he was dead!”

“I’m a drunk, Steve. Not a doctor. I thought he was dead. His arm kept doing that floppy thing.”

They ran down the hallway and tried to put as many corners between themselves and the party as they could.

“What the hell vacation did you put us in?”

“Me? This wasn’t my idea. It was Campbell’s.”

Steve stopped. Paul realized he was running alone and turned.

“What’s wrong? Let’s go. Killer behind us, remember?”

Steve spoke slowly and quietly. “Was this my dad’s idea?”

“What?”

“This whole thing. Was he one of the founding fathers?”

“Steve, now is not the time.”

“Was he a traitor?”

“No, he was a Canadian; so not a traitor. Look. I’m sure that not everyone who put a penny into this paradise was bent on starting a nation. Your father had to be one of the innocent ones. Right?”

“I don’t know who my father was?”

“Daddy issues later, please. Armed men are trying to kill us. We have to find a way back to Key West.”

Paul reached out, grabbed Steve’s lapel, and tugged at him with his free hand. Steve snapped out of his daze and realized that Paul was holding the pistol. He dug into his own pocket for the XD. Despite the streamlined gun, it caught on the fabric and he had to wrestle with two hands to get it out.

It finally came free from his pocket.

“Let’s go.”

They ran down the hall. It seemed to stretch on forever.

The Earth beneath his boots was mud. Plain and simple mud. Island 38 was the last island in the chain to be completed, and David Jefferson was certain it held the answers that he was looking for. The lynchpin that, when pulled, would collapse this abomination of wealth and greed.

They had watched it build. They had been there before the plans were approved. Before the deal was struck with Congress to allow its construction. The Rainbow Connection had set sail before the first dredge, and watched as hopper after hopper was dumped, sprayed, and raked into place to form the massive landmass. For years they stood by as nature was manipulated, shifted, and forced into the paradise built by Warren Baxter.

Baxter was a crooked man with a warped vision. His dominance over nature was just the most recent example of his use of power to get what he wanted.

The files were thick. The suspicions were damning and all this time there had been no proof of any misdoings. Jefferson now knew the man intimately. His background. His beliefs. But still the mystery eluded him.

“Sir,” his musings were interrupted by one of his men. Dressed in black he would have been hard to see in the night without the aid of the night vision goggles. But, the brass casings in his hand were easy to identify. He pulled the goggles off and examined them. They were 9mm shells.

“There are plenty more on the western beach.”

“Bag ‘em up.”

David turned pensively to the west wondering what would have caused them to open fire.

In the distance he saw the lights of a ship. Red and green lights on the vessel told him that it was approaching head on.

“What ship is that?”

One of his men answered. “The dredge. One more boatload of dirt. It should be here in about an hour.”

David spat on the ground. “Then we don’t have much time. Find it.”

They worked frantically searching the bare earth. There was nothing on the island save for two Caterpillar bulldozers that were used to push the world around.

Twenty minutes later their search had turned up nothing and the men loaded back into the launch.

“Get in touch with the other teams. I want to know the status on Master Key.”

The radio man went to work contacting the rest of the members. David looked long at the ship that was steaming towards them. There was only one scheduled dredge and dump after this.

They were running out of time.

# # #

Steve and Paul ran down the hall, twisting and turning through the corridors. Frustration built as they realized they were lost, but it included an odd sense of confidence that Savage would have a hard time following them. Baxter was certain to tell Savage of their presence. Savage would be certain to mention that they shot him. And the chase would be on.

Steve worked an escape plan over in his head. If Savage and Baxter were on the same page, then most, if not all, of the guards would be too. And since the Eco-nuts were also trying to shoot them for some reason, there was no one they could turn to for help. The phones were either out of service or never worked to begin with. Most of the boats in the harbor were sailing yachts or short-range craft. The ferry was not likely to pick them up this evening.

Escape seemed like a long shot. Paul led them around another corner and stopped. Steve ran into him and knocked him further around the corner. Paul turned and pushed Steve back, slapping at him as he shoved.

“What?”

Paul clasped a hand over Steve’s mouth and forced him back against the wall. Steve was startled by the action and even more so that Paul was still holding his gun in the hand he had used to push Steve against the wall. His eyes went wide and Paul followed the stare back to the gun in his hand.

Paul lowered the gun and put a finger to his lips. He edged back to the corner and listened.

Steve crept behind him and strained to hear.

He could hear shuffling–like dozens of feet dragging. He laid down on the ground and poked his head slowly around the corner.

At the intersection of two hallways, he saw a large group of people being escorted at gunpoint. The groups moved slowly by and he began to withdraw his head when he saw Katherine. She was grouped with another beautiful woman and two men. One was younger and fit; the other was graying at the temples and had a serious stomach on him. Pit stains disappeared and reappeared with every sway of his arms. He was gripping his left arm and rubbing at it.

The guards weren’t barking orders. As far as Steve could tell they weren’t saying anything. They simply ushered the crowd down the hall. Katherine’s group disappeared from view.

“It’s her.” Steve got to his feet and checked the indicator on his gun to ensure that there was a round chambered. A rocker switch was exposed on the top of the slide; it was loaded.

“Slow down.” Paul sensed his urgency. “I saw men with guns. Big men. Big guns.”

“There were three. Two with the group and a third pulling up the rear.”

Paul chuckled at the word rear, but quickly regained his composure. “We can’t go blazing in there.”

“We have to do something.”

“We don’t even know what’s going on.”

“They’ve got to be Savage’s men.”

“Why would they take hostages? They’ve got a country to run. You don’t even know if they’ve got an anthem yet.”

“It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well they’ll need something to sing at ball games.”

“The hostages, Paul.” Steve was silent for a moment. “I guess not everyone was in on the whole L.S.A. thing.”

Paul inched the slide back on Savage’s gun slightly. The sheen of the brass on the round assured him that it was loaded. The hammer was down but experiments with the gun earlier told him that pulling the trigger would draw the hammer back.

“Still, why take the hostages?”

“Maybe to ransom for the right to secede?”

“Steve, Katherine’s hot, but no one’s that hot. Besides, the United States doesn’t negotiate with terrorists. Harrison Ford said that.”

“We’ve got to get her.”

Paul shifted his weight and checked behind them. The hallway they had traveled was still clear. “Look, why don’t we follow them for a while? Maybe there’ll be a better opportunity to jump the guards.”

Steve sighed and agreed. His temper raged at the sight of Katherine at gunpoint, but trying to attack the guards was suicide. He had only ever killed one person in his life. And apparently that person wasn’t even dead.

Steve shook his head, “It scares me that you’ve become the sensible one.”

Paul placed his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “It scares me too.”

Steve risked a quick glance around the corner. It was clear. He motioned for Paul to follow and they crept down the corridor.

# # #

The older man next to Katherine wheezed louder. She looked at him and for the first time noticed the grip he had on his left arm – he was having a heart attack. He began to breathe heavier, stroked his arm vigorously, groaned and collapsed. Katherine dropped to her knees in panic. She wanted to help the man but didn’t know where to start. She ripped open his shirt. She had seen them do that on TV. That was as far as she got.

Brittany, the wreck of a hostage, snapped into action. Years of lifeguard duty and countless refreshers in Red Cross safety clicked in. She checked the man’s pulse. There wasn’t one. His breathing became shallow and stopped. She began compressions.

She weighed nothing; but her training gave her the weight to press on the man’s chest.

The guards did not act to help save the man’s life. They did not react at all. They kept their distance, but their attention was focused on the little girl pounding away at the dying man’s chest.

Vinnie backed a step away from the group. The rest of the hostages and their captors had moved around another bend in the maze that was the convention center’s corridors. Vinnie moved into the group that was gathered around the dying man.

Katherine didn’t know what to do. Brittany was handling the compressions and the rescue breathing. She felt helpless; she stroked the older man’s hair and whispered to him that it was going to be okay. The words were so slight that she didn’t even hear herself speak them.

Brittany applied another series of breaths. She pinched the man’s nose and locked her lips on his. She jumped as breath came back at her. Brittany pulled away and stopped the CPR.

The gray-templed man drew a breath and sputtered. The pain of breath showed on his face; cracked ribs from the compressions had already made themselves known. He groaned in agony, but agony meant life.

Katherine shed a tear of relief. Even the guards seemed to relax a little. Maybe they weren’t intent on hurting anyone.

A shot blasted through the sense of relief, and a guard slammed against the wall.

Everything slowed. In a brief moment, no more than a fraction of second, Katherine’s eyes darted to assess the situation. Vinnie was crouched next to the older man. In his hand was a short-barreled revolver. He had pulled it from his ankle, fired the shot, and then turned to his right.

Another round sounded; the report was amplified in the confined hallway. The guard that had been trailing the column grasped his shoulder as it erupted into a mess of blood and sinew. He fell to the ground and began to scream.

The remaining guard reacted. His reflexes drew the trigger and he started to fire before he could aim. Brittany and Katherine lunged back trying to avoid the stream of bullets.

Katherine cleared the stream. Brittany was grazed by a round. A streak of crimson quickly ran down the side of her calf. The heart attack victim was not so lucky. The fire from the submachine gun perforated his chest. He coughed briefly; dark red spittle sprayed from his lips as his lungs filled with blood. He was dead a moment later, and, this time, no amount of CPR would bring him back.

Vinnie continued his turn and fired three more shots. Three struck him back: one hit his hip, another his stomach. The third tore the gun from his hand.

Brittany screamed as the guard took careful aim at Vinnie. Suddenly, the guard arched his back, wrenching in pain. Two more reports sounded and he fell.

The first guard, who had been struck in the shoulder, regained his footing and his weapon just in time to also fall victim to a well-placed shot. He collapsed. Behind him, at the end of the hall, Steve Bennett and Paul Nelson crouched. Each held a gun.

Katherine smiled, the horror of the moment before was replaced with elation. “Steve.”

“Stay down!”

Two guards had responded to the shootout.

Paul saw them first, and fired a quick round to the end of the hallway to keep them behind the corner.

“Come on!” Steve yelled over the sporadic fire.

Katherine grabbed Brittany by the arm and forced her towards the two friends. Brittany pulled her arm free and scrambled to the bleeding body of Vinnie Carlito. “Vinnie,” She started to cry. It was obvious that he was dying.

He seized in pain and strained to talk. “Get to the rainbow.” With a great deal of pain, he rolled onto his seeping stomach. Supporting himself with his right arm, he reached out with his left and grabbed the weapon off of the fallen guard.

Another shot sounded and the pursuing guards ducked back behind the shelter of the plastered wall.

“Go!” Vinnie screamed in agony as he pointed the gun down the hall.

Brittany hesitated.

“Britt,” Katherine screamed and reached out for her hand.

Brittany lurched to her feet, and ran to Steve and Paul. Together the four ran from the firefight. The reports continued behind them; but only for a moment. The din of the shootout was replaced with the scramble of guards as Vincent Carlito collapsed.