Choke Point (28 page)

Atherton smiled in a self-congratulatory way. “When I met Rynerson’s daughter…well, I realized there might be a better way.”

“A better way for you.”

The smile widened. “If the Alliance failed and I ended up with the golden fleece, so what? Everyone gets what they want. No reason to wreck the inheritance.”

“Right.” Only one little problem. “I’m assuming things didn’t work out so well between you and the lady doctor.”

Atherton snorted, trying to sound amused, but it came out bitter. “She’s an idiot. One of those bleedin’ heart idealists. Doesn’t care a whit about the old man’s money.”

Mawl had heard enough of bad plots and big schemes. He looked down, noticing for the first time the four distinct bullet impressions along one side of the case. “And what’s this?”

“It’s just a goodwill offering. Part of an old crest taken from China during the war. It doesn’t have any commercial value. Nothing you’d be interested in.”

Mawl smiled to himself, like he was going to believe that: something of no commercial value being transported in a special bulletproof case.
Yeah, right.
“Show me.”

“The case has some kind of special lock. I don’t know how to open it.”

The bullshit was getting deeper by the second. “You sure you don’t want to think about that?”

“It’s true. I saw Leonidovich open it once. It’s got some kind of hidden lock on the bottom and—”

Mawl punched the lock button next to the handle and the double latches snapped open with a distinct
click-click.

Atherton jerked upright in his chair, as if he’d just taken two in the chest. “That’s not right! I didn’t know. Really! I just assumed—”

Weary of the bullshit, Mawl put a finger to his lips, then reached down and flipped back the fold-over top. “What the bleedin’ hell is this?”

Atherton leaned forward, staring into the case with a bewildered look that quickly mutated into outrage. “That fucking Leonidovich!” He reached inside and yanked out the football-sized rock. “That dirty fucking bastard! I’ll kill him! I’ll kill him with my own hands!”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-FOUR

An Island in the South China Sea

Friday, 13 July 06:58:41 GMT +0800

Except for Kyra’s breathing and the soft lapping of waves against the rocks, it was quiet and steamy hot, the air sticky as taffy. While she slept, Simon mentally rehearsed the conversation to come, trying to decide how much to say. What did he really know? For sure? Whatever he said, she wouldn’t be happy.

The sun—hidden behind a curtain of gray clouds—had been up at least ten minutes when she finally rolled over in the sand and sat up, blinking her eyes. “The rain stopped.”

He smiled down at her from his rocky perch; a place where he could see anyone approaching by land or water. “I’ve always said you were a clever girl, Rynerson.”

“Don’t pick on me in the morning, Leonidovich. I have an attitude and I know how to use it.” She glanced around. “Where’s Jim?”

“Gone.”

“Gone?” She repeated the word as if it were an unknown expression from another language. “Gone where?”

“He took my case, if that tells you anything.”

“Oh, no!”

He nodded.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

He shrugged, ignoring her accusatory tone. “He was already gone, and you needed the sleep. What difference would it have made?”

“None, but—” She lifted her hands and gave them a little toss in the air. “You’re right. I should have seen it coming.” She stood up, brushing the sand off her clothes and arms, then began rolling her head and kneading the muscles along her shoulders, trying to work out the kinks. “It’s my fault.”

Uh-oh,
he could guess where this was going—a trip he preferred not to take. “It’s nobody’s fault, Kyra. He—”

“But it is,” she cut in, her words coming in a rush. “He did this to impress me. He asked me to marry him and I turned him down.”

Good decision,
but he wasn’t about to say it. Not yet. Not until he was sure. “I figured as much.”

She gazed up at him, incomprehension in her eyes. “Figured what?”

“That you turned him down.”

She scrambled up the rocky face, agile as a mountain goat, and planted herself on a nearby boulder. “You knew he was going to ask me?”

“He asked what I thought of the idea.”

“I’m, uh—” She shook her head, trying to make sense of it. “I’m surprised. I didn’t realize you two were that close.”

“It was one of those male bonding things.”

“So what did you say?”

“I thought he deserved the truth…that you were a first-class fruitcake. That he would be better off with one of those blow-up dolls they sell in porn shops. Now that I think about it, he may have gone shopping.”

She frowned, clearly in no mood for his ill-timed humor. “He didn’t take it very well. Probably thinks if he can save the day, I’ll change my mind.”

“Probably,” though convinced nothing could have been further from Atherton’s mind. “Men are stupid that way.”

“I’m sorry, Simon. I really am.”

Sorry?
That was about the last thing he expected. “
You’re
sorry?”

“Of course. I know you’ve never lost a consignment. And something like this…all the international implications…it’ll ruin your reputation.”

He almost laughed; in all likelihood they would be floating facedown in the South China Sea before the day was over, and she was worried about his reputation. “You don’t need to worry about that. He doesn’t have the crest.”

“What?”

He leaned back and pulled the small container out from behind a rock. “I removed it from the case.”

“Why?”

He shrugged, knowing she wouldn’t like the answer. “Truthfully…I was afraid he might try something like this.”

She leaned forward, her green eyes flashing with anger, her blond hair in disarray, looking both barbaric and beautiful. “You should have said something! I could have stopped him! They’ll kill him for sure.”

“No they won’t.” Of that, he was positive.
Almost positive.

“How can you say that?”

Careful, Leonidovich,
never tell everything you know. “They’re not stupid. It wouldn’t make sense. He can lead them to us. He—”

“He wouldn’t!”

Yeah, right.
The only question was whether he would do it voluntarily or at the point of a gun. “Or they’ll use him as bait to draw us out.”

“You don’t really believe that?”

But he did. “As long as we have the crest, he’s safe. Which means we need to find ourselves a new place to hide.”

She sat there, tapping a finger against her lip, thinking about it. “What if he changes his mind and comes back?”

“That’s not going to happen, Kyra. I’ve been awake for three hours. He’s gone.”

She nodded blindly, absently brushing sand out of her hair. “Probably couldn’t if he wanted to,” she said, her voice soft and distant, as if trying to convince herself. “He’s no Boy Scout, that’s for sure.”

In more ways than one, Simon thought, but that was something she would have to discover on her own. “I’m afraid you’re right.”

“We should stay on the coast,” she said. “If we move inland we’re sure to set off one of those sensors.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. These guys are pros. They’re going to track us, and it won’t be that hard if the rain holds off.” He paused, letting the reality of their situation sink in before throwing out his plan. “I think we’d be better off in the water.” He pointed to a tangle of storm debris floating among the rocks. “There’s some good pieces of driftwood down there.”

She looked from him to the floating debris, then back to him. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting we head south, scouting the shoreline from the water. It will give us a different perspective.” More important, it was an option they hadn’t discussed with Atherton.

She nodded slowly, the wheels turning, calculating the risks. “Could you do it with one arm?”

“As long as we stay in close,” he answered, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “And the waves don’t get too high.”

She nodded again, carefully eyeing the shallow waves, but clearly warming to the idea. “They couldn’t track us through the water, that’s for sure.”

“Exactly. But it’s still risky. If they catch us offshore with one of those Zodiacs…” He didn’t bother to say what they both understood.

“Right, but I think it’s a good idea…worth the gamble.”

“Let’s do it.”

She helped him down off the rocks—which for some reason proved more difficult than climbing up—then waded out to the debris, while he secured the crest in the cargo bag, and buried the items they wouldn’t need. She came back dragging a small tree through the surf, its smooth surface covered with stubby knobs and short projections where branches had broken off. “This should hold us both. You hang on and I’ll steer.”

“Sounds easy.” But he suspected it wouldn’t be.

Using the black nylon rope, they tied the cargo bag between a couple of broken-off branches, then waded out beyond the surf and into the gently rolling waves. When the water reached Simon’s chest, they began to work their way toward the southern end of the island, tiptoeing and kicking their way over the rocks. Though the waves were gentle, it took their combined strength to keep the tree from rotating toward the shore. Kyra, who was doing the bulk of the work, looked exhausted after only a few minutes. “I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

“Blame it on Newton.”

“You’re talking about—” She took a breath. “—Isaac Newton?”

“You got it. The second of his three axioms.”

“Which you.” Quick breath. “No doubt.” Another breath. “Could quote verbatim?”

“‘The alteration of motion is ever proportional to the motive force impressed.’” He paused to grab some oxygen. “‘—and is made in the direction of the right line in which that force is impressed.’ Something like that.”

She snorted and spit a stream of water in his direction. “You need to get a life, Leonidovich.”

Surviving one more day seemed like enough of a goal. “Did you say life or wife.”

“Same thing.” She gulped a breath of air. “How’s your arm?”

“Great.” So numb he couldn’t feel the damn thing. “You okay?”

“Swell.” Another breath. “Haven’t had so much fun since—” She grabbed a quick mouthful of air. “Hey, look at that!” She pointed toward the island with her chin.

He twisted around, realizing that in his efforts to keep the tree moving in the right direction, he had neglected to keep an eye on the shoreline. “What?”

“That shadow.” Quick gulp of air. “Under that ridge of rocks.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“Look down!”

He scanned downward over the sheer rock face, to a small shadow near the waterline. “Okay, I see it. So what?”

“Might be a cave.” She grabbed another quick breath. “Should check it out.”

He glanced back and saw that they had moved only a couple hundred yards from where they entered the water. “We haven’t gone very far.”

“So?”

“So that’s where they’ll start their search. It’s too close.”

She gave him a look sharp enough to open a vein. “I’m exhausted.”

“Well, I don’t give a damn what you say, Rynerson. I say we check it out.”

She flashed a relieved smile, drew a deep breath, and expelled it through puffed cheeks. “You’re a smart man, Leonidovich.”

The minute they gave up the fight, the tree rotated around and took off like an arrow toward the shore. “Let it go,” Kyra shouted, “I’ll steer it in!”

He released his grip, and within seconds she had it heading straight for the dark shadow beneath the rocks. He followed the wake, letting the waves carry him in, his legs so tired they felt like bags of water. By the time he caught up, the tree had wedged itself into a narrow opening between the rocks. Standing in knee-deep water, her breasts exposed beneath her wet T-shirt, Kyra stared into the mouth of a cave-like crevice. “Whataya think?”

He peered into the dark hole, then up at the line of silt running across the rock face. “I
think
the water has carved out a little cavern back in there.”

“Exactly. I’ll check it out.”

“And I
know
it’s under water at high tide.”

She nodded, already digging through the cargo bag. “I saw that.”

“So…?”

“So it doesn’t hurt to look.” She pulled the SureFire mini-flashlight. “You coming?”

She was right, it didn’t hurt to look, and he couldn’t have talked her out of it anyway. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“You’re a sport, Leonidovich.”

“And you’re half-naked, Rynerson. What man wouldn’t follow you into a dark cave?”

She gave him a heavy-lidded, but good-natured look of admonishment. “Well, there’s nothing I can do about that, so get used to it.”

Such a burden. “I’ll do my best.”

She started forward, following the flashlight’s slender beam into the darkness. The rocks narrowed around them, the light reflecting off the water and throwing shadow ghosts over damp, stone walls covered with barnacles, mussels, crabs, and other crustaceans. Kyra looked back over her shoulder. “Neat, uh?”

Simon nodded, thinking
creepy
would be a more accurate description.

They sloshed forward another ten feet when she glanced back a second time. “Wait here.”

Before he could say anything, she ducked beneath an overhang of rock and disappeared, leaving him in near darkness. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore his feelings of claustrophobia, but the air suddenly felt thick and stifling, too heavy to breathe. Then, to make matters worse, he heard them, tiny sea creatures crawling over the walls. “Rynerson?” His voice echoed back and forth, sounding tinny and thin. “You okay?”

The light ricocheted toward him from beneath the ridge of rock, reflecting upward off the dark water. “Come in here.”

She held the light steady and he ducked beneath the overhang.
Here
turned out to be a small chamber, about fifteen feet across and equally high, with smooth, dark walls—crustacean free, except for a few stragglers near the waterline. He didn’t like anything about the place—it felt like a trap—but had the feeling the lovely Ms. Rynerson did not invite him into the place to discuss the sculpting power of water. He waited, knowing her question even before she asked it.