Haven, page 37
Kessler answered by raising a calming hand. The gesture seemed to say, "Well, of course.”
Bandari, however, reacted with shock upon realizing that he'd been overheard. “Coast Guard, Coast Guard," he was no longer whispering. "Those people in the boat off my beam are more terrorists. They are criminal Muslims who hide on this island and they too have weapons and bombs. You must shoot them. Shoot them now or they will....”
Willis reacted by snatching his microphone. "My name is Roy Willis, I'm a former federal agent. The people on this boat are...”
The roar of Elizabeth's pistol cut him off. At a glance he saw that Kessler had seized the moment to climb the stairs and rush the bridge. He saw that Kessler had pushed Tarrant before him. He saw that Bandari must have sensed it or heard it and had turned his attention from their boat to the stairway. This woman seemed to know that Kessler would act and was laying a covering fire. Her bullets pocked the bridge, they shattered a windshield, they forced Bandari to cover his head but Willis still heard the boom of the shotgun.
“Cease fire on that boat," barked the radio voice of the commander. "Stop shooting at once or I will fire on you.”
The Coast Guard commander, already overwhelmed, was hearing too many conflicting accounts. When Elizabeth showed no sign of lowering her weapon and seemed to be searching for a target on the bridge, he ordered a warning burst by his seaman. The seaman, also nervous, obeyed. He fired half a clip at the water in front of her, stitching the surface with geysers. Elizabeth, more by reflex than design, swung her pistol to the source of those shots. The seaman, alarmed, fired the rest of his clip. He intended a warning but his aim was short. Two or more bullets ricocheted off the waves and into the Fiberglas of the powerboat's hull.
“Stop that damned shooting. Stop it now!!”
Peter's voice.
Willis turned his head. He saw a police boat coming up fast. Lights flashing, siren bleating, it was quickly overtaking the Coast Guard patrol boat. He saw Peter's head sticking out of its cabin. He held a loud hailer in his hand. He identified himself once more to the commander. He told the commander to use his open channel to clear all other boats within a range of twenty miles. Any craft that fails to comply will be sunk.
“Uh-oh," exclaimed Aisha.
“He doesn't mean us," said Elizabeth. She had swung her pistol back to the bridge. She saw movement. Only shadows. She did not yet see Martin.
“No, it's not that. I'm...”
Elizabeth glanced at her. She saw that Aisha was examining her ribs. Her fingers were bloody. There was blood on her T-shirt. Elizabeth was horrified. She stood torn for an instant between Aisha and Martin.
“It's all right," said Aisha weakly. "I don't think it's a bullet." She peeled up her T-shirt. It snagged on the wound. "I think it's just plastic. It doesn't feel deep.”
Willis saw it. "I'm taking her in.”
“Drop me on that boat first, then go," said Elizabeth.
“Kessler said stay away. Now I guess we know why." Willis started a turn that would take them to the island.
She stared in anguish first at Aisha, then the bridge. She turned her pistol on Willis. "Take me close enough to jump.”
She waited for him to look into her eyes so that he could see that she meant it. But before he could react, a calling voice shocked her. It was Martin's voice, very loud and electronic. He was calling Nadia Halaby. She looked up and saw him at the window of the bridge. He had found a loud hailer as well.
“Yes, Nadia. I'm talking to you. Do I see blood on that girl?”
She stared at him blankly. He was looking at her. She saw Aisha wave a hand at him to say that it was nothing. Elizabeth reached for her own loud hailer but Kessler stopped her before she could speak.
“Nadia, this is no time to talk. Bandari is down; we don't need you here. You can only get all four of you killed. You must see to the girl, go back to your tennis school. You will stop for nothing or nobody, Nadia. Mr, Willis, do you hear what I'm saying to her?”
Willis blinked at Elizabeth. "He wants you to be Nadia. Why?”
“He's crazy," she muttered. "It's not going to work.”
“Mr. Willis," he called, "here is something for you. Aisha's father has a warehouse in Suez. That warehouse should be carefully searched within the hour but don't tell Cairo what you're doing or why. What they'll find there has nothing to do with her father. Look under some hardened cement bags.”
“Aisha, do you know the warehouse he means?”
“Um...yes, down on the docks. It's just lumber and stuff for construction.”
“Within the hour," Kessler repeated. "You could find yourself in a foot race.”
“Martin...." Elizabeth spoke into the hailer. Her throat caught before she could say more than that.
“Nadia, go home. Go back to your office. Behave now and maybe I'll give you a call.”
Willis took a deep breath. He threw Kessler a salute and pushed the lever back to full throttle.
THIRTY SEVEN
Lawrence Tarrant used his necktie to stem the bleeding from the pellets that had torn into his thigh. He had set his briefcase on the chart table next to him. One corner of the briefcase was in tatters. It caught much of the blast when he threw it at Bandari. His chance to throw it came when the windows blew out from the gunfire of that Algerian woman.
Kessler had followed those shots through the door and had rolled before Bandari could aim again. He came up underneath Bandari's shotgun and clubbed him to the floor with his pistol. Tarrant limped to where Bandari had fallen, took the shotgun away and would have started by blowing off both Bandari's feet had not Kessler seized the shotgun and told him to sit. Kessler wanted a moment to study the controls, and the radio, and also to find the loud hailer he'd hoped for.
Tarrant watched him with interest as he called to the Algerian and as much as told her to go on with her life. It did not seem a time to wish someone bon voyage. When Kessler told the black man of the warehouse in Suez, that at least seemed in keeping with events. It surprised him a little that he felt no annoyance that Kessler, with those words, cost him twenty five million. A part of him doubted that they were actually there. Bandari had lied about everything else. But if they were in that warehouse he no longer much cared. His head had told him that he was certainly dying and that no amount of assistance could save him. His body was starting to agree. Kessler, during this moment of quiet, was becoming considerably downcast as well. Apparently he and this Nadia had been close. Look at him now. Staring after her.
But life goes on. At least for the moment. Tarrant finished knotting his tie and reached for the knife he'd slid into his sock.
Kessler heard a noise. A dull beeping sound. He turned to see Tarrant, a kitchen knife in his hand. Another few steps and he'd have been within reach. Kessler raised his pistol. He put down the loud hailer.
“This isn't for you. It's for Bandari," said Tarrant.
“Put it down.”
“The warhead won't fit up his ass. This will.”
“Put it down all the same if you please.”
Kessler knew that Tarrant would have probably stuck him if only to keep him from interfering. This was terribly careless. Between being depressed and the loss of blood his brain was not working so well these last minutes. He should have known that Tarrant would have picked up a knife while he was rooting around in the galley. Were it not for that noise...
“What's that beeping, by the way?”
It was coming, he realized, from Tarrant's briefcase and where there is a beeper there is usually a phone. Perhaps, he thought, he could really call Elizabeth and do it without the whole world listening in. Perhaps he might even have a few words with Aisha.
“Open the briefcase. See who's trying to get you.”
Tarrant shrugged and complied. He worked the snaps and opened the lid. Kessler raised his pistol and aimed it at his face just in case there happened to be a weapon inside. There was nothing except electronics.
“Step aside. Let me see," Kessler ordered.
The briefcase contained an IBM Thinkpad with Fax, a beeper, a cell phone and what looked like a built-in recording device. All these were neatly arranged in felt padding. The Thinkpad seemed to be the only thing damaged. The LED read-out on the beeper was blinking. Tarrant looked at the number. He grunted, almost smiled.
“Just someone who's now out of a job," he told Kessler.
“Call him. See what he wants.”
“What difference does it make?”
“Indulge me. Pick up the phone.”
All Kessler wanted was to know that it worked. Again with a shrug Tarrant pressed Redial and brought the phone to his ear. Kessler noticed when he did this that another light came on. The briefcase was apparently recording. He heard a dim click when the phone call was answered.
“It's me. What is it?" He said without interest. But then his eyes widened slightly, a blink of surprise. "Yes, it me and I'm alive," he repeated impatiently. "Why are you so surprised that I'm alive?”
Kessler's first thought, and apparently Tarrant's, was that the voice on the other end of that phone must have knowledge of Tarrant's predicament. Kessler guessed that one of those baggy jackets must still be at large on the island. As Tarrant listened his expression slowly changed. What had been impatience became disbelief. Disbelief turned into amusement.
“Good job. Well done. Now go turn on the News," Tarrant said and then broke the connection. He looked up at Kessler and smiled.
“What has happened?" asked Kessler.
“Want to hear?”
“By all means.”
“It seems I've been murdered twice in one day.”
Tarrant snapped the phone shut. He put it back in his briefcase. He then pressed a button on the other device that Kessler had assumed was a recorder. It whirred and stopped. Tarrant reached for another button and pressed it.
“The name of the young man doesn't matter especially. He's an aide to Charles Fraser, the President's National Security Advisor.”
Kessler listened.
According to the young man's breathless account, a surveillance team was already in place when Tarrant's plane touched down on Grand Cayman. A man who was thought to be Tarrant disembarked. Tall and thin, graying hair, a briefcase.
“He's...a banker," said Tarrant. "Long story.”
This banker, whoever, was approached by two men, not those who were waiting on surveillance. He tried to duck them by hurrying to a car that had driven on the tarmac to meet him. The two men called after him, angrily it seemed. When he didn't stop, the two pulled out pistols and shot him. They proceeded to empty their clips in his head until they, in turn, were ordered to surrender by agents who'd been sent there by Fraser. They did not. There was more shooting. The two men went down. Once is dead and the other is dying. The two assassins although it's not yet confirmed are believed to be Libyan nationals. Their victim is presumed to be Lawrence Tarrant because it hasn't occurred to the agents thus far that he might be anyone else. Besides, he no longer has much of a face.
Tarrant snorted. He stopped the recording where he heard his own voice tell the aide to go turn on the television news.
“It's certainly been one of those days," he told Kessler.
Nadia, with Peter, had seen the great flare, all the shooting, people running and screaming through the smoke. She had seen Aisha's uncle get his boat underway. She had seen, too late, the small boat that gave chase and was aghast to see Aisha on board.
It was Nadia and Peter who had rushed to the office and told a young staffer to alert the Coast Guard that both of those boats must be stopped. Peter made two more calls, the first to a Washington number; the second was to summon the police boat. Neither call lasted more than twenty seconds. Peter ordered her to stay when he boarded the police boat. He said he needed her there to report what she saw in the aftermath of the explosion. He said one or more federal agencies would be calling. They would need to know exactly what is happening.
She could see Bandari's boat as it rounded Land's End and could hear a running account of the chase from the Coast Guard and from a dozen or more boats that were scrambling to get out of harm's way. She had seen the pursuit boat wide and to the right of it and then she heard Willis try to identify himself. Seconds later she heard the distant echo of gunfire. She snatched a pair of binoculars from the staffer and through them saw Jazz reach to pull Aisha down. She thought she saw Aisha clutching her ribs and she heard Willis say, "I'm breaking off. We're going in." His boat then accelerated, away from the Alhambra, then sped toward the ocean side of the island.
She knew at once where he must be going. She threw down the binoculars and left at a run. The staffer could relay what reports Peter needed. She did not stop until she reached the car that she and Jazz had parked near Marsh Drive.
“Mr. Kessler? Martin Kessler. Please respond if you're able.”
The voice came over the VHF radio. Kessler glanced back at the Cost Guard patrol boat. The police boat had drawn alongside and kept pace. A man who seemed familiar was leaning out its cabin. Yellow jacket, blue cap, he held a microphone to his lips. Kessler remembered. He had seen that man with Willis. Kessler stepped to the radio and answered.
“Mr. Kessler, my name is Peter Cobb. We've met before but you wouldn't recall. It was in Washington some twelve years ago.”
“Ah, yes. I think so.”
“Do you really? I'm surprised.”
It's a time for small talk? But he remembered the wife. Her name was Lauren. She was sort of a fan. She also became a source for a time but that was in the old days when he thought such things mattered.
“Your wife's name is Lauren. She told wonderful stories.”
“Well, good heavens. She'll be thrilled that you remembered, Mr. Kessler." A pause. "I...um, think what I'm trying to do here is establish some level of comfort between us. The business at hand is not so pleasant. May I ask who else is alive on that boat?”
He looked down at Bandari whose eyes were closed and who had not even twitched since he hit him. "Bandari is but he's now playing possum." This remark was a revelation to Tarrant who promptly brought his heel down on Bandari's ankle. Bandari shrieked. He quickly revived and crawled into a corner where he fingered the lump that Kessler had raised above his ear. "The other man's name is Lawrence Tarrant. As it happens, I know his wife, too.”
Tarrant snorted aloud as if in amusement. Peter heard the snort that was almost a chuckle. "Um...you are in control, are you not, Mr. Kessler?”
Kessler quickly offered an apology. He realized that from loss of blood and whatever they were both getting dangerously giddy.
“Mr. Kessler, I will ask that you keep them alive. I am likely to have many questions.”
“You can tell him," said Tarrant, "I'll keep Bandari alive. Alive and feeling pain just as long as I can. Ask him, meanwhile, if it's true that we're dying.”
Peter heard. "Ah....give me one moment, will you please?”
Kessler looked out. He saw Peter on the police boat being handed a headset. Peter listened a few seconds while shaking his head. He handed the headset back to a policeman.
“Mr. Kessler, I've been asked to tell you that your chances are good as long as you surrender and get the proper attention. That, however, would be a lie. Mr. Tarrant is probably correct.”
Tarrant made a face. Kessler asked, "How much time?”
“Well...The man with scarf who you left on the dock is reported to be very near death at this moment. The one you threw overboard would be but he drowned. Mr. Tarrant threw something else in the water. Is it true that these were the nuclear devices?”
“He threw only pots. The devices are here.”
“Before you? In your sight?" he asked with clear relief.
“The one that is leaking is here on the floor. The one still intact was left in the galley. You haven't quite answered. How long do we have?”
“I don't know yet. I've asked. I'm awaiting an opinion.”
“Make a guess," said Tarrant. "Is anyone else sick?”
“Quite a few. About a dozen. Most or all were living aboard yachts in that section. We don't know of any pedestrians yet.”
Kessler had another question although he thought he knew the answer. "Mr. Cobb, why didn't you lie?”
“Because I need you to stay with that boat. I need you to take it....the Coast Guard will show you....it's a sand bar some twenty five miles off shore. I need you to run it aground.”
“And then?”
“I will...tell you as soon as I know.”
Willis beached the speedboat within a short run to Van Der Meer. The beach at that point was largely deserted but for several oceanfront homes well back. He was helping first Jasmine, then Aisha from the boat when he saw Nadia's car burst over the dunes. He motioned for Nadia to stay with the car. She ignored him.
She ran first to Aisha and let out a gasp at the sight of the shard still protruding from her ribs. The blood immediately around it had clotted. The mass made it look like an exit wound.
“It's not as bad as it looks," Willis told her. Nadia seemed about to hit him for taking her with him. Jasmine stepped between them, her hand shielding her eyes. She said, "This isn't either. Thank you for asking. Let's argue some other time.”
“Help me push this back out," said Elizabeth to Willis. She was watching the flotilla now two miles out to sea. The Alhambra, the patrol boat and the black-hulled police boat had been joined by a helicopter. A second and third Coast Guard boat were approaching from the direction of Savannah Harbor.
“You heard them on the radio. You can't help him, Elizabeth." He said this to her gently. He tried to take her arm. She warned him with a look. He backed off.
“Elizabeth..." Aisha took her hand instead. "Come with us. To the office. He promised he'd call.”
“She will like hell," Nadia hissed through her teeth. "I was grateful before but today wipes that out. This woman is no friend to any Muslim.”
“This woman," said Willis, "didn't try to cook this island. Those were Muslims who did that. Martin Kessler's out there dying and it's Muslims who killed him. Don't you tell me who's my friend.”
