Friction. Part 18

LOGAN STARED OUT the aft window. Everything in his life felt frustratingly out of his control-the investigation, his emotional responses toward Sarah, his job. the aft window. Everything in his life felt frustratingly out of his control-the investigation, his emotional responses toward Sarah, his job.

He'd been awake the rest of the night, tossing and turning due to stifled desire for Sarah. He could work with women cops, stand beside them on the front lines as he had with Mel, but he didn't know if he could be in love with one. As if he seemed to have any choice in that matter, either.

Sarah hadn't come up yet. He glanced at his watch, worrying. If she didn't show soon, he'd go after her, whether she liked it or not. They would only be on the ship for another twelve hours or so-they were heading back to land that evening. He only had one shot at helping Mel, and he had to take it soon. After he left this ship, there was a chance he'd never know what had happened to her. His jaw hardened at the unacceptable thought.

He turned toward the stairs to go find Sarah, and nearly slammed into a member of the staff who stood before him, handing him a small envelope.

"Telegram for you, sir."

"Are you sure you have the right person?" Who would be sending him anything?

"You are Mr. K. MacKenzie?"

He took the telegram, frowning. No one else knew about his alias except...he took a deep breath, realizing.

"That's me. Thanks."

He tore open the small envelope and tried to decipher what the heck was on the inside. The name Ian Chandler stopped him in his tracks-Sarah's boss. His breath came up short, realizing that Sarah must be in trouble.

TO: Karl MacKenzieFROM: Ian ChandlerRE: URGENT BUSINESSCritical meeting has been detained. Urgent contact at 555-8888 to reschedule immediately.

Logan looked around. Much like with airplanes, cell phones weren't allowed on board because of terrorist threats, and the only phones were in staff offices and on the bridge. He had to get to one, fast. He looked around for the young woman who had delivered the message and approached her, smiling as charmingly as he could manage.

"Ms. Simpson-" he spotted her name tag just in time "-I have some urgent business to attend to. I wonder if you could show me to a telephone?"

She looked up into his face. "Ship-to-sh.o.r.e calls are very expensive-your account would have to be directly billed."

"Of course. But this telegram is about a problem that must be settled this morning."

"Of course, sir."

That was easy. He was led down the stairs to a narrow hall where doors seemed more compact-staff quarters and offices, probably. She led him into the small, crowded office and he tried not to pounce on the telephone too eagerly.

"I should just be a few minutes, I think."

"We can't leave any offices unattended, sir, for security reasons. I'll have to stay in the room."

Logan flatted his mouth disapprovingly, but nodded. It would cause less suspicion this way, anyhow.

"Fine. Glad to know you run a tight ship."

He dialed the number, and waited as the slow connection made its way through. The line was somewhat fuzzy with static, but relief overcame him when someone picked up on the other end.

"Ian?"

"Yes."

"It's Karl. What've ya got?" He a.s.sumed a casual familiarity with the stranger on the other end of the phone-it wouldn't exactly be convincing that he had urgent business with someone he didn't even know.

"Logan, are you alone?"

"No."

"Okay, then just listen. We've tested this line, we're scrambling, but I'm going to make this quick. Sarah is locked in a cabin in the lower stern-they're holding her there. She's okay, and we're keeping track of her. We need your help, though."

"Sure. Tell me what you need to make this happen."

"We need to do two things-get Sarah out of there safely, and get into their computers before we send in the Coast Guard. They'll wipe their systems if they suspect anything or know they are being boarded, so we need to get into their network first and download as much as we can before we raid."

"What's my part in all this?" Logan looked up and saw the staff member leaning by the door, looking at her fingernails while he spoke. She didn't seem to have any particular interest in his conversation. Good.

"We're going to make a drop later this morning-we have someone on the way now. The Coast Guard is going to pa.s.s by, do a routine check. The cruise lines expect this, so it won't be suspicious. They'll send out a diver who'll leave a small package attached to the stern. In that package you'll find a receiver, so you can communicate with us, and a small computer card."

Ian took a breath, then continued. "Here's the hard part. You need to get that card attached to one of their main computers-Sarah said she saw one in the room they took her to this morning, Valente's cabin. Just slip the card in the slot on the side or in the back of the computer tower and leave. Then we'll locate Sarah, and you can get her out. When they're being raided, they won't hesitate to get rid of her, or any other witnesses. You need to get to them beforehand. Got it?"

"Yeah. I'll be in contact."

He hung up, shaking his head. He'd felt as though he'd stepped through the looking gla.s.s as soon as he'd arrived at the inn, and things had only gotten crazier. All these secret transmissions, coded messages and things being attached to the sides of boats. In his other life, police work was never this complicated. It was a lot of footwork and a lot of paperwork, and he did his best not to get shot. All this James Bond stuff was unfamiliar, but if it worked, it was fine by him.

They had Sarah, and while the thought made him sick, he had to cool down and trust that she was okay, that she could handle herself. Chandler had a trace on her, and they had backup waiting, so all he had to do was get the card in the computer and get her, and whoever else was being held-maybe Melanie-out.

That's all.

He walked through the gaming room, trolling the tables as if deciding which game to play, figuring out his next move. There wasn't much he could do until he had that card in his hand. Antic.i.p.ation of seeing the Coast Guard vessel draw alongside buzzed through his bloodstream, but he saw nothing on the water just yet. He glanced at his watch un.o.btrusively, returning to the c.r.a.ps table to watch the early rollers.

He realized that the resentment he'd felt at having control over the investigation taken away from him had suddenly evaporated. The short conversation with Ian replayed in his head. Logan had thought he wanted to go it alone, but he had to admit it was good to be part of a team again, ad hoc as it might be. It was a feeling he'd missed since he'd lost Mel and been on the outs with his own department.

And whatever it took, he was going to make sure he didn't let Sarah down. Regardless of what the future did or didn't hold for them.

13.

SARAH WAS LYING silently on the bed when Valente walked in, eyeing her with displeasure. silently on the bed when Valente walked in, eyeing her with displeasure.

"You should be dressed and ready by now."

She continued to stare at the ceiling. "I told you, I'm not going to do it. I don't care what you do with the tapes."

He opened the door again, and whispered something. Out of the corner of her eye she saw more movement, and a large man came in behind Valente. He had a gun. A large gun.

Sarah didn't move until Valente grabbed a fistful of her short hair and yanked her up. She bit back a whimper at the stinging pain, glaring at him. b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

"You will shower, you will dress in the clothes I have provided, you will make yourself beautiful and do everything you are told without argument, or Lex here will have some fun with you. Before he kills you." He tugged her head back, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Are we clear?"

"Very."

He smiled. "Good." Then he removed his hand from her hair, moving it to her throat. He ran his finger under the chain of the choker, grimacing. "This is cheap. You can't be seen in this." With a sharp pull he ripped the choker from her throat and she grabbed for it.

"That's mine. It has...sentimental value."

Valente dropped it to the floor, stepped on it, and smiled widely at the crunching sound under his heel.

"Be thankful it was the necklace and not your neck."

With that he left the room. Sarah looked Lex the gorilla in the eye, wondering if she could take him. Probably only if she could get his gun away from him. He let his eyes wander down her body lasciviously. s.n.a.t.c.hing up the clothes, she locked herself in the bathroom.

Without the choker she was truly on her own. If they took her somewhere else, or threw her overboard, no one would know. Hopefully Ian and E.J. had contacted Logan, and they were on it.

Help would be on the way soon, she rea.s.sured herself as she stripped, self-conscious even though she was alone in the shower stall. She hoped she could stay alive and unharmed until it arrived.

LOGAN WAS going broke as he ordered another whiskey from the bar while he c.r.a.pped out yet again at the table. The guy next to him slapped him on the back in condolence before he left with a woman who'd only spared Logan a look that said "loser." Well, it was the image he was working to project. going broke as he ordered another whiskey from the bar while he c.r.a.pped out yet again at the table. The guy next to him slapped him on the back in condolence before he left with a woman who'd only spared Logan a look that said "loser." Well, it was the image he was working to project.

Good. As he took a sip of the whiskey, then covertly emptied the rest into the plant that sat next to him at the table, he figured his plan was working. The Coast Guard vessel had shown up, run alongside and done a visual inspection from their ship-while a diver left the computer card. Logan had surrept.i.tiously retrieved it while taking a break from his losing streak. Now it was time to try to get into Valente's office.

Pretending to down the drink, he slammed the gla.s.s back down and set both hands on the table, snarling at the stickman.

"I've never lost this much in my life. This game is rigged!" He raised his voice, slurring his words just a little. The man by the side of the table looked offended and raised his eyebrows.

"I want my chips back! This guy should be replaced. This table is a rip-off."

Logan wasn't surprised when a very large man in a dark suit appeared by his side.

"Is there a problem, sir?"

Logan turned and faced the security guy, practically nose to nose.

"Yes, there's a problem. Cheating is a problem."

"I can a.s.sure you there is no cheating on this boat. Maybe you should let me see you back to your room."

The man grabbed his shoulder in an iron grip, but Logan had no problem shaking him off. He could probably take the guy, but his real goal was to grab the attention of the big guns, and if he had to take a punch to do it, he was up for that.

"Get your hands off me, flunky. I want to talk to the owner of this cruise. I want to talk to the captain!"

"Sir, you need to quiet down...." The ape's voice had taken on a more threatening timbre now, and Logan saw his real opportunity. He pushed out, shoving the guard back.

"I will not be quiet. I demand to see the owner. I am not going to deal with some-"

Someone slid between them, narrowly saving Logan from a black eye or worse. He confronted a man of about his own height, though of a slighter build, in a very expensive suit.

"I'm Vincent Valente, the owner. You have a complaint, sir?"

Logan huffed out a breath, giving the man the full effect of what whiskey he'd sipped. He watched him grimace in distaste, and did it again before he spoke.

"You're the owner?"

"Yes, I am. I overheard you wanted to talk with me?"

"Yes, I do. I keep losing at this table-I think it's rigged. I want proof this table is not rigged."

Valente slid a look to the side as some other customers approached the table and then discreetly walked away. Returning his hard gaze to Logan, he tried to appear friendly. Logan could see he was anything but.

"Well, why don't we go back to my cabin where we can find a resolution to this issue?"

Logan smiled a drunken smile and grabbed Valente's hand, shaking it hard. "That would be very good, yes, very good. I knew if I could just talk with someone in charge, things would work out."

They hurried him out of the room, Valente making chitchat along the way. Everything seemed pleasant and professional enough-maybe too much so, Logan thought uneasily as they approached a door at the end of the hall.

He was glad he'd thought ahead and slipped the card in his shoe, and placed the tiny transmitter in an inside pocket where it hopefully wouldn't be detected. It looked like a watch battery. Sarah's cohorts had some seriously advanced toys. If his escorts found it, they probably wouldn't realize what it was. He hoped.

The door opened, and before he could brace himself, he was roughly shoved into the room. He stumbled to the floor, and it occurred to him that he might not have avoided that bruising after all. He picked himself up slowly, still maintaining his inebriated behavior. Holding his position on all fours for a second, as if disoriented, he looked up and spotted the computer desk at the far side of the room.

But before he could get up, a foot caught him in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him and sending him slamming over onto his back. He gasped for air, not needing to fake a thing in his pained response. He looked up to see the security guard towering over him, eyeing him like a big dog getting a treat.

Logan pushed himself up into a sitting position, groaning. "What the h.e.l.l? Is this how you treat all your guests?"

Valente smiled pleasantly, staring down at him.

"No. Only the ones who accuse us of cheating."

Logan held up a peaceful hand. He had to find a way to get back by the computer.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I just lost a s.h.i.tload of money, that's all. Can't a guy be p.i.s.sed?"

Logan raised himself up and staggered forward, holding his gut, feigning a sheepish expression.

"No, not when it could cause irreparable damage to my reputation."

Logan nearly laughed out loud, but staggered a little closer.

"I said I'm sorry." A little closer....

"Your apology is useless. You are banned from any of my gambling establishments. Permanently. Call yourself lucky."

And just close enough. "Why, you filthy..." Logan jumped forward before any of them could see what he was going to do, and he pounced on Valente, landing one hard punch to his jaw. Valente's head whipped back with the impact, but he was tougher than he looked. He didn't go down. Instead, he spoke calmly to the guard, but there was violence in his eyes.