"What do you think?" Walter seemed to be trembling. "I can build a gyroscope, but I'm not—"

  "Don't sweat it." Brad caressed the throttle and browsed the dials and controls. It was the largest vessel he'd ever piloted. Checking the distance they'd drifted from the yacht—about twenty feet—he then looked at Walter. "Ready?"

  Walter nodded, a rare grin on his young face.

  "Punch it!"

  *~*

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Nathan Isaacson paused to gain his bearings. Mentally, he retraced his steps since leaving the fortress. He'd traveled straight to the shoreline first. Well, as straight as the streets of Zalzuna allowed him to travel. Many of the cities in the Greek Isles had intentionally designed their streets to wind and curve like a maze to thwart pirate invasions. From the shoreline, Nathan had snooped around a number of warehouses, then gradually worked his way inland, keeping his eye out for large buildings with foundations that could double as a jail or prison. He ran into no civilians on the streets, only a few straggling soldiers stumbling home or leaving for an early watch. A few dogs yelped at Nathan for a pat on the head, but they left him alone when they sniffed his baggy clothes and found nothing edible.

  It was time to return to the fortress. There was no telling how long it would take to find a way back into his suite.

  Kneeling next to a whitewashed stone building, he checked his watch. He peered around the corner of the building at the entrance. It wasn't guarded, but it was some sort of official building. A Zalzunian flag hung on a flagpole and there was Greek print on a plaque next to the door.

  Quickly, Nathan stepped back as a man in uniform exited the door and lit a cigarette. Licking his lips, Nathan tensed for action as he heard the crunch of gravel under the man's boots. The soldier rounded the dark corner. Nathan attacked before the man could see Nathan's European features. He jabbed him hard on the chin and spun him around by the shoulder to slam the man into the wall, though out of sight from the front door. The soldier went limp from the blow to the chin.

  By one arm, Nathan held the man as he inspected his surroundings. No one seemed to have noticed the subtle commotion. Crushing the man's cigarette into the ground, he inspected the soldier's face. He was just a boy, and his uniform was pressed as if new.

  With little effort, Nathan threw the young soldier over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. He walked swiftly across one of the streets barely wide enough for an ox cart. Quick-stepping down an alley, he sniffed the air for the sea breeze, then ran down a winding street, pausing in a doorstep as an early-rising farmer set out for his tobacco field north of the volcano. Nathan continued until he reached the water's edge. The sea lapped gently at the sandy beach, but everything else was quiet and still.

  Drawing the young soldier's sidearm from his holster, Nathan hurled it into the water. Then he heaved the soldier into the shallows of the sea. The youth splashed with great commotion and became alert as the water choked him into gasping breaths. Wading up to his ankles, Nathan drew the youth into the moon-shadows of a boat winch. He was careful to keep the boy's face to the ground so he couldn't identify Nathan later.

  "Let me go!" the soldier demanded in Greek-accented English.

  "Quiet!" Nathan hushed him with his own Greek accent. He slapped the soldier on the head, his other hand firmly holding him by the back of the neck. "I have a couple very simple questions for you, then I'll let you go. Understand?"

  "I— Okay. I understand."

  "What's the building you came out of? Answer me!"

  "It's just— It's just a hospital. That's all!"

  "Don't lie to me!" Nathan called his bluff. "I saw no medical signs on the building!"

  "Okay, okay! It's just a hospital, an old hospital. But they made it into a rehabilitation center."

  "Rehabilitation? You mean torture?" Nathan had seen it before, even experienced it personally. "Are any prisoners housed there? Who are you guarding in there? Tell me!"

  "Just . . . political prisoners. Nobody important. What do you want?"

  "Are there any foreigners being held?"

  "Yes."

  "Who? Talk!"

  "Um, I don't know! Foreigners? A girl. Young, about my age. Um. Curly blond hair, short. And her father, an old man."

  "What about the old man's wife? Where is she?"

  "She . . . They shot her. I heard they executed her when she resisted arrest last week. That's all I know."

  "Don't lie!" Nathan did his best to disguise his voice. "The father and daughter, they're well? You'd better not be harming them!"

  "No, no! I'm not doing anything! I just stand guard! Honest!"

  "If you're lying to me, I'll be back for you, boy! And if you tell anyone you talked to me, they'll know you're spineless enough to answer all my questions because I'm letting you live. You know what will happen to you then?"

  "What?"

  "They'll rehabilitate you!" Nathan jerked the youth upright, then forced him to run toward the water's edge. At the last instant, Nathan hurled the soldier out into deeper water, then turned and ran before the soldier could catch his breath and clear his eyes to see him.

  Nathan knew he'd taken too long with the soldier. The horizon was already beginning to glow. He ran through the winding streets to the west. His knee brace squeaked slightly from the salt water in the hinge joint, but he was otherwise a ghost flying through the streets.

  After taking two wrong alleys and backtracking, he finally emerged at the bottom of the slope below the fortress. Slipping through the sparse vegetation, he circled around the outside wall to the uphill side. It was morning now. The sun was up. Down in the town, men, women, and children had begun their day of labor for the country, for the general.

  Directly at the back of the fortress, the wall was only ten feet high. It took Nathan three tries to hook one hand over the edge, then the other hand. Drawing himself upward, he checked the lawn and rear side of the fortress for activity. His own suite balcony seemed so far away, so far up. To his right, one of the guests from the night before appeared on the balcony of that guest room with a cup of tea. Nathan lowered himself to avoid being seen. He could never climb the wall and reach his balcony with an observer loitering only yards away.

  Suddenly, the wall against Nathan's cheek began to vibrate. A woman inside the fortress screamed. The wall shook harder. A man yelled. A dog barked. Nathan pulled himself up the wall again and saw the man on the balcony flee back into his suite.

  Wasting no time, Nathan scurried up the wall. For an instant, he crouched on the top. He couldn't help but look back over his shoulder at the mountain. The wall trembled under him as the volcano burped smoke and even a degree of fire. Having seen enough, Nathan leaped off the wall to the other side and rolled to his feet on the grass below. At the most, he had a few seconds before others appeared at their windows to peer up at the violent mountain threatening them all.

  At a full run, Nathan planted a foot on the windowsill of the first-floor window and jumped straight up. With one hand, he clutched a vertical bar of his balcony's railing. He swung his body and pulled himself up until he could throw a knee upward to help his struggle. After collapsing onto his balcony, he crawled into his suite as he gasped for breath. Though he'd torn the skin on his palm a little, he was safe and his cover was hopefully still intact.

  There was a knock on his door. Nathan took off his straw hat and whipped it toward the closet. He peeled off his shirt and threw it on the bed, then kicked off his boots and shoved them under the bed.

  "Come in," he called sleepily, yawning for emphasis.

  Fredrick and two soldiers entered the room, sidearms drawn. They stopped short at the sight of Nathan in what appeared to be his sleeping apparel.

  "What's the meaning of this?" Nathan barked.

  "Have you been anywhere overnight?" Fredrick's face snarled as his eyes studied the room and Nathan.

  "What?" Nathan made an effort to scowl. "First an earthquake and then I'm interrogated? This is my wake-up call? Have you forgotten I am the general's guest here?"

  Gesturing to his men to lower their weapons, Fredrick and his soldiers backed out of the room. However, Fredrick stopped.

  "My apologies, Dirk. One of my men was attacked in the city. We wanted to . . . ensure your safety."

  Barely withholding a burst of laughter, Nathan raised his chin proudly.

  "Well, I thank you for your concern. The earthquake is over now and I wish to dress for my tour today."

  "As you wish."

  Lingering a second longer, Fredrick scoped the room thoroughly, then turned around and walked out, closing the door behind him.

  Nathan looked left and right. His bed was still perfectly made and one of his muddy boots was sticking out from under the bed. Fredrick was no fool. The soldier boy in town had talked, as Nathan had assumed he would.

  It was time to get off the island. His job here was finished. He'd found what he'd come for: the Jamisons. Even without locating Trevor Niles, he had to leave before he became a permanent guest of the rehabilitation center.

  #######

  Heather Kooper was awake and on her feet two seconds after the Predator's diesel engines began to rumble. Someone was stealing the speedboat! She bounded up the companionway two steps at a time. The boating community in Piraeus was close-knit and they watched out for one another; such closeness usually kept criminals at bay.

  When she reached the starboard rail, Heather realized she wasn't the only one who'd been alerted from sleep by the commotion. Jasper was already there, with Clifford and Bruce arriving on Heather's heels.

  "Slow down." Jasper gazed after the stern lights of their disappearing boat, now leaving the Tourkoimano Basin. "It's the boys."

  "What?" Heather gasped. "What do they think they're doing?"

  "And they took half the gear, too." Jasper shrugged. "Guess they were more upset than I thought about the change of plans."

  For once, Clifford was speechless. Heather watched him run to the yacht's stern as if he were about to jump into the water and swim after the Predator. He leaned over the rail and peered into the horizon's darkness.

  "Those guys are ruining everything!" Heather examined the other boats moored nearby. Was there anything they could borrow to chase the boys down?

  "I don't get it." Clifford returned from the stern, shaking his head in bewilderment. "That takes some nerve. What do they think they can accomplish on their own?"

  "They're mad because we didn't go along with their plan." Heather gave up looking for a chase boat. The Predator was the fastest around. "Their feelings are hurt because our intel preceded theirs."

  "Ridiculous!" Clifford spat.

  "You might want to back up a little." Bruce leaned against the mast. Since the bear of a man so rarely spoke, the others gave him their attention.

  "What're you talking about?" Clifford moved closer to his brother. "A couple of teenagers just sped off with our two-million-dollar boat!"

  "I'm just saying, back up a little." Bruce crossed his arms, apparently not irritated by his brother's fury. "Seems we've been underestimating those two ever since they arrived. It'd be mighty stupid for us to continue on that same trail."

  Heather took a deep breath. There was wisdom in Bruce's few words. She looked to Jasper for advice, but he seemed concerned about the turn of events as well, and faced the water in thought. Clifford merely looked from one to the other.

  "Okay." Heather held up her hand. "Let's assume they actually have a plan."

  "Oh, they have a plan—guaranteed." Jasper chuckled. "A Kassviney never does anything without a plan."

  "So . . . Brad told Walter about our plan to leave in two days. Walt didn't like it, so they went on ahead."

  "The boys knew we wouldn't listen to their ideas," Jasper added.

  "Maybe they knew something we didn't," Bruce said.

  "I think we blew it." Jasper gave a long sigh, still not facing them. "If Walter did something this drastic, we really need to question our own tactics. Like Bruce said, we might've been getting ahead of ourselves. Walter doesn't do things on an emotional level. Maybe we need to re-think our Zalzuna intel source. That's what Brad was saying. Our own hastiness may have just cost us involvement in this rescue altogether."

  "Unless Brad forced Walt to steal the boat?" Clifford looked from Heather to Bruce.

  "You know better than that," Bruce criticized his brother.

  "Yeah." Jasper took a nylon rope and began to coil it. "The kid might be a bit of a loose cannon, but he relies on Walter's brains quite a bit. They did this together."

  "So, what do you think they're going to do?" Clifford held his hands wide.

  "They'll wait for their own intel before they do anything rash." Jasper dropped the coiled rope on a deck hook. "After that, they might try to rescue the Jamisons on their own."

  "No one has an idea who Walter sent in to gather intel?" Heather asked the others. "Let's say we went after the boys. We can't go ahead with our plan now. They have half our gear and our floating headquarters."

  "I'm pretty sure now that Walter knows a lot more than he's told us," Jasper said. "An apology is probably in order."

  "Well, I'm not apologizing to anyone." Clifford kicked at the mast, narrowly missing his brother's foot. "They've ruined everything!"

  "We're the ones who ruined everything." Bruce shoved his brother away from him. "If the brainiac is for real, we should've stayed with his plan."

  "So, what do we do?" Clifford asked.

  "Well, this tub still floats." Jasper gestured at his yacht. "If we take her, we'll be a couple days behind them since we'll be trusting the breeze, but there're only so many ports near Zalzuna where they can refuel. We'll find them."

  "And we need to find them before they go in." Heather nodded at Jasper. "If the Jamisons are going to have any chance, we can't let those two do it alone. They have no clue what they're really up against."

  "Okay." Jasper gazed upward, his eyes on the wind speed indicator. "I'll check the sheets. We set sail in an hour. They'll be halfway to Zalzuna by then, but we don't have any other option."

  #######

  "Just tell us who is searching for you, Mr. Jamison," Trevor Niles demanded. "You don't want us to bring in your daughter, do you?"

  "She doesn't know any more than I do." Albert gasped in pain.

  Again, Albert Jamison hung from the ceiling chains in the interrogation room. Besides the imposter Trevor Niles, Fredrick, the bald giant, was also there. The young soldier Albert had witnessed to the day before stood in the corner next to Albert's clothes. The young man had a wicked bruise on his chin. Albert wondered if their conversation had been overheard, causing the soldier to be disciplined.

  They hadn't beaten Albert with the broomstick that day. Instead, they'd tried a much more gruesome method. The younger soldier wore tight, leather gloves to protect his knuckles as he'd pounded on the ribs of Albert's torso. Albert struggled to breathe with several of his ribs now surely broken. But the soldier hadn't done all the damage to the missionary. An hour earlier, Fredrick had become frustrated with Albert's lack of answers, and had struck him with his own ungloved fists.

  Fredrick drew Niles off to one side.

  "If someone is looking for the prisoners, maybe we should move them."

  In delirium, Albert hung his head, but it was an act. True, he was hurting, but the fact that someone was already inquiring about them gave him great hope. He couldn't wait to tell Lacy!

  "That might be a little premature." Niles scowled at the young soldier in the corner who'd been attacked the night before. "Besides, where would we put them? Double the guard—with real guards this time. Tell me about this German visitor you have at the fortress."

  "He moves like a soldier." Fredrick scratched his bald head. "But by the way he acts and speaks, he seems pretty naive to our ways. Besides, he has a bum leg and a knee brace. I don't think he's worth our attention."

  "It could be an act," Niles said. "Anyway, I want to meet him. I even know some German. Can you set up a meeting?"

  "Probably. He's touring the island today."

  "I'll be in New Manchester preparing the ambush for the incoming team of Christians. You'll find me on the beach."

  "All right, I'll pass it on." Fredrick nodded. "You want help with the ambush?"

  "No, I'd rather keep you here just in case they try something else." Niles glanced at the soldier. "If this fool is telling the truth about last night, then there's someone already on the island. Who knows what they're doing?"

  "It's hard to believe that website continues to bring in our adversaries." Fredrick chuckled.

  "Only for those who insist on invading our land. It's an easy way to learn their true intentions before they arrive. You know why I do this. I told you about Gilgal."

  "Thanks for coming, Mr. Niles."

  Niles and Fredrick shook hands, then Niles exited the room. Fredrick snarled at Albert for a few seconds, then slugged the missionary in the gut. Albert moaned as he swung on the chains.

  "Take him back to the room," Fredrick ordered the soldier. "We'll work on him more tonight."

  As soon as Fredrick was out of the interrogation room, the soldier began to unchain Albert's wrists. Albert was in more pain today than the day before. They'd intentionally targeted his bones and internal organs rather than the skin. When his wrists were free, he collapsed onto the rock floor before he could be caught by the young man. Laying there, Albert gasped for breath at the edge of consciousness. The soldier fetched his clothes and dropped them on Albert's naked body.

  "Put on your clothes. I have chores."

  "Who . . . did that to your chin?" Albert wheezed.

  "You should know. He was one of your friends."

  "My friends? I have no friends on this island that I know of, but I'm sorry for your injury. Tell me. What's your name?"

  "Horatio." The soldier checked the door. "Get dressed."

  Albert moved to pull on his trousers. His ribs were too painful to pull on his own shirt.

  "There are really people searching for me?" Albert couldn't help his desire to know more!

  "Yes, but they will fail. An ambush is being laid for them tomorrow night."

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31