Coincidence Part 13

"What better way to get our load of c.o.ke shipped home than to turn it into a thousand cute little Moai statues, identical to the thousands of cute little plastic statues Giorgio been shipping every month for the last twelve years?"

Holy s.h.i.t, Phillip thought. It was a brilliant plan. Easter Island was about the last place anybody would think of as a source of illegal drugs to begin with, and to convert the white powder into what would look exactly like the same innocuous merchandise that had been coming out of this Giorgio guy's factory for years-h.e.l.l, customs wouldn't even give the shipment a second glance.

Stefano's eyes were open now, watching Phillip's reaction with amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Bueno," he continued. "One day to tie up and unload. Two to cast the statues, and one more to package them for shipping to the States."

"So, we'd be flying back on the same plane with the shipment?" Phillip asked.

"No. We'll already be there. As soon as we get the statues packed, we gonna be on the next plane out. Giorgio's gonna wait a coupla days, then send our pretty little statues to his distribution warehouse, consigned to me. All we gotta do is pick them up at the warehouse and then ..."

Stefano smiled again and shrugged. And then. Then they would be home free, divvying up their riches. As long as they could pull off the next few days.

"Okay," Phillip said. "So we'll say four to five days on the island. Plus the time it takes to get there. If we left tomorrow morning, that'd be about four days."

His mind was racing now. Eight or nine days was the very least amount of time they would require. Could they count on the Inspiration Inspiration to go undicovered for that long? d.a.m.n, it was risky. to go undicovered for that long? d.a.m.n, it was risky.

Stefano was easing himself into a sitting position, pulling himself up by the bed railing. He drew his breath in sharply, grimacing, but when he spoke, his voice was steady and decisive.

"Right. This is what we gonna do. You knock out the engine of this boat and make sure there's no way they can call for help. No satellite phone, no radio, no nothing. Tell Polo and Severo to get the Coincidence Coincidence ready to go. Tell my brother to come here. And get the doctor and that girl-the director-in here, too, and the captain. We're not going alone." ready to go. Tell my brother to come here. And get the doctor and that girl-the director-in here, too, and the captain. We're not going alone."

Phillip stared at Stefano.

"The sooner we cut them loose, the better," Stefano went on. "Too close to the island and a boat or a plane could spot them. We gotta do it now, p.r.o.nto. And the doctor and the girl are gonna be our insurance.

"You tell the captain: Nine days. He don't make a move for nine days, or the doctor and the girl are dead."

30.

"Whatever happens," Melissa said, so softly that Pierre had to lean even closer to hear her, "whatever happens, I want ..."

"You want ...?" he asked.

He himself wanted only to take her in his arms and tell her about his rendezvous with Mac, tell her that now there was contact with the outside world, that now rescue might be on its way.

But he could not. He had vowed not to let anyone else know. No matter how much he wanted to alleviate Melissa's anguish, no matter how much he trusted her, he knew that sharing the news, even with no one but her, could put that rescue in jeopardy.

And, of course, even with the encouraging breakthrough in communication, there was no guarantee of their survival. No guarantee at all, just a thin sliver of hope piercing despair.

Following the temporary distraction of the coffee night, the mood aboard the Inspiration Inspiration had gone back to bleak and wary. As the hours dragged on, the waiting itself had begun to seem unbearably heavy; almost worse, Pierre had begun to think, than whatever fate might be in store for them all. What good was it to continue to survive, if survival meant only constant dread of what loomed ahead? had gone back to bleak and wary. As the hours dragged on, the waiting itself had begun to seem unbearably heavy; almost worse, Pierre had begun to think, than whatever fate might be in store for them all. What good was it to continue to survive, if survival meant only constant dread of what loomed ahead?

Then suddenly the mood had shifted again and the dull anxiety turned to acute fear. Pierre couldn't put his finger on exactly when this alteration had occurred, or what had caused it. There had been no announcement, no obvious sign of an imminent culmination to their situation. Yet he felt a distinct undercurrent of building tension, a profound sense that something something was just about to happen. was just about to happen.

Pierre had seen unease in the faces of Anika, the doctor, and the captain as they had emerged from the first-aid room with Phillip earlier in the day. The three had walked right past him with hardly a glance. Anika was ashen and shaky, Dr. Williams was stony-faced, and the captain was standing more erect than usual. Phillip had looked almost as grim and glowering as that other drug guy, the one they called Juan.

Drugs. It was all about drugs-cocaine, according to Mac.

He thought about how many guys at Caneff had been involved with drugs. Most of them just had experimented with pot, but a few were into more serious drugs, and a couple had even been dealing. It would have taken very little, so very little, the way he'd been drifting, for him to have crossed that line himself. He had never been that interested in the drug scene. He regarded it as a waste of time and money, but still ... had he stayed at Caneff, or gotten out and continued to hang out with that crowd, would he have been strong enough to turn down the easy thrill of drugs, to resist their mind-numbing, stress-relieving allure, to risk the scorn of his companions by saying no?

It made him sick to think that he might have helped fuel the demand for illegal drugs-demand that in turn spurred people like Juan to profit from weakness. Or even worse, might he have become become one of the people like Juan, a user-turned-pusher-turned-drug runner. one of the people like Juan, a user-turned-pusher-turned-drug runner.

He might have become someone who endangered the lives of all of the people he cared about aboard the Inspiration Inspiration-mon dieu, the life of Melissa, for whom he would gladly give his own life. Non Non, it wasn't possible, surely could not be possible-and yet ...

It was too horrible to think about.

"Pierre?"

Melissa's soft voice brought him back to reality.

"Melissa," he replied, taking her chin in his hands, searching her face.

"Whatever happens," Melissa said, "I want you to know how much I love you."

"It could never be as much as I love you," he whispered.

He drew her close so she wouldn't see the tears welling up in his eyes.

31.

"Oh, excuse me, Captain, I seem to have the hiccups," Kathleen said.

This is it, then, Captain Marzynski thought. He'd been expecting the code word, listening for it, ever since Dave had relayed it from Mac, but it still registered as a shock now she'd said it. Hiccups. He gave no indication of its significance.

"Try bending over and drinking a gla.s.s of water from the far side of the gla.s.s," he said. "Always works for me."

Marzynski continued with his report on the Inspiration Inspiration's coordinates and the weather and noted they were still having some minor problems with the electronic systems.

The minor problems were going to turn major in just a moment. Phillip stood beside him, with Matt and Sam, the first and second engineers, ready to start removing the wiring harnesses from the electronic equipment as soon as his report was finished. The captain hoped it would be only a matter of removing the harnesses; it all had to be done in under two hours, along with disabling the steering hydraulics and getting the Coincidence Coincidence ready to sail-with Elliott Williams and Anika aboard, heaven help them. He could well imagine Phillip simply taking a hammer and smashing everything to smithereens in the interest of saving time. ready to sail-with Elliott Williams and Anika aboard, heaven help them. He could well imagine Phillip simply taking a hammer and smashing everything to smithereens in the interest of saving time.

The anxious tedium of the past couple of days had been replaced with urgent preparations-and a complete change of plans. There'd be no chance now for Mac to cut the Coincidence Coincidence adrift or for the doctor to knock Stefano out. Yesterday afternoon Phillip had appeared at the captain's office door, demanding that he come to the first-aid room. Anika and Elliott were already there, along with Juan, who had looked even more malevolent than usual. Juan's scowl had deepened by the minute as Phillip had laid out their scheme of taking off in the adrift or for the doctor to knock Stefano out. Yesterday afternoon Phillip had appeared at the captain's office door, demanding that he come to the first-aid room. Anika and Elliott were already there, along with Juan, who had looked even more malevolent than usual. Juan's scowl had deepened by the minute as Phillip had laid out their scheme of taking off in the Coincidence Coincidence with the two hostages, leaving the with the two hostages, leaving the Inspiration Inspiration in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with no power and no communications systems. in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with no power and no communications systems.

But why, Anika had wanted to know, did they need two two hostages? Wasn't one enough "insurance"? Couldn't they just take her and leave the doctor, in case any of the kids or staff needed medical help? Phillip had vetoed that, pointing out that Stefano, although considerably better, was not yet out of danger. No way were they going to risk anything happening to him. hostages? Wasn't one enough "insurance"? Couldn't they just take her and leave the doctor, in case any of the kids or staff needed medical help? Phillip had vetoed that, pointing out that Stefano, although considerably better, was not yet out of danger. No way were they going to risk anything happening to him.

How like Anika, the captain had thought, to be thinking about the kids and volunteering to put herself in harm's way to keep them as safe as possible. He had been on the verge of asking why, in that case, they needed to take Anika, why not just the doctor, when Phillip cut him off.

"And you're coming as, uh, supplemental insurance," he had said to Anika.

The captain looked up sharply to see Phillip staring at Anika with eyes that were voracious and predatory.

Lukasz Marzynski had never felt so powerless in his life. The eldest of the eight Marzynski siblings, he had always possessed a natural authority that never veered off into harshness or insensitivity but took command of any situation that confronted him. A fifteen-year veteran with Blue Water Academy, twelve as captain of the Inspiration Inspiration, he'd handled crises of many sorts, always keeping a cool head, earning the respect of students and staff on voyage after voyage.

He had nearly two hundred thousand miles of sailing experience under his belt-about as much as the legendary Captain Cook-but now he felt completely stymied. Anything he did to try to protect Anika would further endanger the students in his care. Yet to allow her to go as a hostage, to leave her in Phillip's clutches-unthinkable.

She was a strong and resourceful person, true, and Dr. Williams would be with her, which was some comfort. But how could the two of them possibly defend themselves against six criminals? They would have no weapons, other than whatever medications the doctor might have in his bag. And after they had served their purpose as hostages, they would be nothing more than dangerous liabilities to dispense with.

Could Phillip's obvious desire for Anika possibly override the need for eliminating her? Doubtful. Particularly if she somehow managed to ward off his advances. That would only infuriate him. And even if Phillip were disposed to keep her alive, there were the others-especially Juan. He was without doubt the most chilling man Luke had ever met, a man of no conscience or no humanity. A man who could snuff out the life of another human being as though he was swatting a fly.

Luke's gaze had fixed on Juan as Phillip had finished outlining the plan, registering the way Juan's glowering threatened to spill over into violence. There was something there, something in the relationship between the two men ...

Phillip had stopped and was looking expectantly at Luke. Luke's attention had been so focused on Juan he wasn't sure what Phillip had just said. He'd thought for a moment, then, hoping it was not a complete non sequitur, said, "You're expecting the Inspiration Inspiration to get along in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for a week-possibly longer-with no power?" to get along in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for a week-possibly longer-with no power?"

Phillip, sneering, had given a short laugh.

"Oh, come on, Captain. If Captain Bligh could survive in a twenty-three-foot boat with eighteen men and practically no food for more than six weeks in 1789, I believe you can tough it out on a rig like the Inspiration Inspiration for a few days." for a few days."

"Very well. But at least leave us the house generator, so we can keep our food supply refrigerated and cook it safely."

"As long as-" Phillip had begun.

"Shut up," Juan had snarled at Phillip. Then, spinning on his heel to face Luke, his face like a thundercloud, he had hissed: "You are in no position to make demands, Captain."

Luke had shot a quick glance at Phillip, who was livid with anger. No question about it. Juan and Phillip were locked in a hostile compet.i.tion to determine who was to be Stefano's second-in-command. Luke's eyes met the doctor's; it was clear they were thinking along the same lines. Somehow there might be a way to exploit the rivalry between Phillip and Juan, to divide and conquer.

Stefano had held up his hand.

"Silencio," he said. "The generator-it's only for the kitchen, right? Phillip, you check it out. Make sure it don't work for communications. If no, okay, they can keep it on, feed the kids. Juanito, I need you here with me."

Stefano's voice had been weak, but his words clear. Within two hours of the captain's morning report-two hours from this minute, Luke thought as he hung up the phone following his report to Kathleen-the Coincidence Coincidence would be on its way, the two hostages aboard, and the would be on its way, the two hostages aboard, and the Inspiration Inspiration would be cut off from the outside world. would be cut off from the outside world.

And then?

Luke could see only two rays of hope, both improbable at best. The enmity between Phillip and Juan might provide Anika and the doctor enough leverage to survive. And even though the hijackers' decision to make their escape so soon had knocked the h.e.l.l out of the original plan, at least he now knew that the Coast Guard cutter was in the area.

Kathleen's "hiccups" had started not a moment too soon.

32.

It's come then, Mac thought, as he kept his eyes trained on the deck of the Inspiration Inspiration. For good or ill, there was no turning back now.

Dave had called him on the walkie-talkie as soon as Anika had alerted him to the hijackers' plan. Mac had immediately tried to call Kathleen in Montreal, but had gotten only the answering machine. Where could the la.s.s have gone at that time of day? He fervently hoped she had received his message not to call the Coincidence Coincidence again. Within an hour or two now, the hijackers would be reboarding, with Anika and Dr. Williams in tow. One accidental call from BWA headquarters would eliminate any chance of their survival. again. Within an hour or two now, the hijackers would be reboarding, with Anika and Dr. Williams in tow. One accidental call from BWA headquarters would eliminate any chance of their survival.

Trying to quash that horrible thought, Mac had set about eradicating all traces of his presence aboard the Coincidence Coincidence. He doubted the hijackers would notice the small dent he'd made in their food supply, and he had taken careful note of how all of the dishes were stowed before he'd used them. It had been easy to clean them and return them to their rightful places.

He had swept up the few crumbs that had acc.u.mulated by his chair and had made up the bed with nautical precision-and immediately remade it a little less precisely, remembering that whoever had slept in it before had been somewhat less inclined to tidiness.

He had wiped the sink in the head with his shirt; then, putting on his own things again, he'd folded up the spare clothes he'd borrowed and put them back in the drawer as he'd found them. He had stuck the walkie-talkie in his rear trouser pocket.

He had also taken one of the two emergency beacons...o...b..ard. That was risky, to be sure, but worth it, he believed, because it could prove invaluable back on the Inspiration Inspiration. Even if the hijackers noticed its absence, they'd have no reason to suspect that he had cadged it. They didn't even know of his existence, much less his existence on their boat for the past couple of days.

No, they'd more likely be blaming one another for its disappearance, which might even help the hostages drive a wedge between their captors. The beacon was the sort that activates automatically when it hits the water, so he'd wrapped it tightly in three layers of plastic bags. The bundle sat at his feet now as he watched, waiting for signs of activity on the Zodiac.

The walkie-talkie squawked in his pocket.

"Mac? Dave."

Dave's voice sounded tinny through the little speaker, and his words came in a rush.

"I just saw the captain coming from the galley. Phillip sent him to get all of the bags of sugar from the pantry. They're going to dump them in the hydraulic cylinders to disable both the steering systems, the automatic and the manual. Guess they figured we could replace the oil if they just drained it out, so they're wrecking the whole system."

d.a.m.n and blast, Mac thought. There were no spare hydraulic cylinders...o...b..ard. That meant the whole system would have to be replaced.

"Phillip's shut down the engine. He and Sam and Matt removed the injectors and tossed them overboard, and Sam's gone to get the spares out of the workshop and throw them over, too. Phillip checked the injectors for the generator, too, but they're from a different manufacturer and can't be used on the engine, so at least he's letting us keep the generator on. Thank G.o.d for small favors, eh?

"Once they finish with the hydraulics, all they have to do is take out the wiring harnesses for the electronics."

Take them out, or more likely smash the equipment to pieces, Mac thought. Time was getting short and desperate criminals were not generally noted for their patience.

"The captain and Anika spent yesterday afternoon scrounging up whatever might be used as weapons. Not much. Some knives, the usual tools-I can hardly see them fending off six bad guys with a hammer and a screwdriver.

"We can't get to the flare gun on the bridge, but we've got the one from the transom and the spare from your locker. I don't suppose you've got a Colt 45 stashed away down there somewhere, have you?"

"No gun at all, I'm afraid. But hang on-I do have an axe that might do you some good. I picked it up in Zambia."

His mind flashed back to a scene so vivid he'd almost have sworn it was unfolding before his eyes now. His first day at the copper mine in Kalulushi, watching in awe as two sinewy men wielded the heavy axes, swinging them back and forth in a seemingly effortless rhythm. At the instant the honed blades struck the sides of the tree trunks, the men exhaled in unison, a sharp whuh! whuh! sound. They had reminded him of martial artists, they really had-their motions were so controlled, so adroit. And Caroline was there, watching by his side ... sound. They had reminded him of martial artists, they really had-their motions were so controlled, so adroit. And Caroline was there, watching by his side ...

Och. None of that now. What did they call it, anyway, that axe? The Bemba word for it; he'd known it like the back of his hand in those days. Like the curve of Caroline's neck. If he'd been smart he'd have written down all of those words at the time to refer to later on, when they were no longer part of his day-to-day surroundings. He'd thought he would remember them forever, of course, and, of course, he hadn't. Nothing lasts forever.

Not that it made a particle of difference now anyway.

"Mac?"

"Right, Dave, I hear ye."

"They're starting to put their things in the Zodiac now, the doctor and Anika and the hijackers. It won't be long now. Oh d.a.m.n, Phillip's taking all of our emergency beacons with him. Gotta go now, Mac. Good luck. I-"

Dave's voice was replaced by a short crackle of static.

Mac opened a corner of the top layer of plastic encasing the emergency beacon, tucked the walkie-talkie inside, and sealed the plastic tight again.

Within five minutes, he saw the Zodiac start its descent into the water. Clutching the bundle, he eased to the swim platform and lowered himself into the water. As the Zodiac turned toward the starboard side of the Coincidence Coincidence, he dived under and swam to the port side. Mac watched, treading water, as the dinghy swung around the boat and was tied off at the swim platform. A man with jet-black hair and a long pointed nose jumped out first, then crouched on the platform stretching his hands out to someone in the dinghy.