Ghost Ship (NUMA Files 12)

“You don’t understand,” Acosta said. “You have no idea what these foreigners are willing to pay. Ten million for a month of work. Twenty million for six weeks. Can you imagine? She can’t possibly be worth more to your brother. Hold him back. Tell him I will cut him in on the spoils.”

“He has other plans,” Calista said.

“What kind of plans?”

“How would I know,” Calista said. “He tells me only what he wants to. But I promise, they are important to him. He sent me here to take her from you. The only way I can stop that is if you deliver her to me as planned an

d blame the Iranians for the delay.”

Acosta hesitated and Calista narrowed her gaze. She saw something in his eyes. It said he’d already crossed the Rubicon. “What have you done, Rene?”

He didn’t respond, but the tension was obvious in a tightening of the muscles in his thick neck.

“Rene?”

“She’s not here,” he said finally. “I delivered her to Than Rang last week. He wants the others as well.”

Than Rang was a Korean industrialist. Calista’s mind raced trying to figure out why he would need or want the American or the other hackers. “If that’s so, you’d best retrieve her.”

“I can’t,” he said. “Than Rang is not a man to be trifled with. I’d rather deal with your brother’s wrath than his.”

Calista wondered if he was lying or not. “Sebastian will not wait,” she said. “The woman must be delivered into my brother’s hands before the Americans finish their trial run with Phalanx or three years of effort will be ruined, that much I know. And if that occurs, Sebastian will not rest until he murders you.”

As she spoke, Calista stared at her former lover with unblinking eyes. The more nervous he appeared, the more joy it brought her. Anything to increase his agony.

“What’s done is done,” he said. “The only question is where your loyalties rest.”

“My ‘loyalties’?”

“Yes,” he said. “If it comes to war, whose side will you be on?”

She tilted her head as if the question was silly. A wicked smile grew on her face. “Why, my dear Rene,” she began, “I’ll be on my own side of course. I thought you would have learned that by now.”

She put the glass down and turned away.

He watched her walk off, headed for the spiral staircase. Despite a plan to remain calm, he found his emotions had become unbalanced, a volatile mixture of anger and lust as always where Calista was concerned.

But the facts were simple. He could not retrieve the American woman from Than Rang’s clutches even if he wanted to. Nor could he forego the revenue from transactions involving the other three experts he held. To keep up his extravagant lifestyle he needed more cash and he needed it now.

He snapped his fingers and two of his men appeared. “Keep an eye on her,” he said. “I don’t want her causing any trouble or upsetting the other guests.”

They nodded and turned to follow.

For her part, Calista expected to be followed. She walked slowly to the center of the room and took the spiral staircase down to the accommodations deck. She traveled toward the stern, where a small but warmly appointed cabin with a single berth had been reserved for her.

She opened the door and held it, pausing long enough to make sure Rene’s men spotted her. They slowed their pace but kept on coming. She winked at them and then ducked inside and shut the door.

They would likely guard her until the auction. But Rene would want her there. She was a mysterious presence and a distraction. The bids would be higher because of her. That would make it easier.

She turned the radio on and started the shower. She figured that was enough. She’d already swept the room for bugs and other listening devices.

Unzipping the cocktail dress and removing the wig, she quickly changed into another outfit consisting of dark slacks and a gray silk shirt. It was fancy enough that she could pass for one of the guests but utilitarian enough to let her move freely.

Next she removed a false panel from her suitcase, pulled out a satellite phone, and slid it into her pocket. A compact Bersa .380 pistol came out next. It was a thin, nickel-plated automatic, with black polymer grips. It carried seven hollow-point rounds in a short magazine and one more in the chamber. It was a trusty weapon, accurate, with a smooth trigger pull. Calista had taken out several adversaries with it. As a final precaution she slid a four-inch knife into a thin scabbard above her ankle.

Ready for action, she made her way to the cabin’s large window. It slid open with ease. She glanced down the narrow gangway that ran around the edge of the yacht. Seeing no one, she climbed through the window and onto the deck. With smooth precision, she slid the glass shut and began walking toward the bow.

Clinging to the side of the Massif like a stubborn barnacle, Kurt studied his options. The heavy yacht was now cruising at twenty knots. Light spilling from the superstructure cast a subtle glow on the waters flowing past, but other than that he was bathed in darkness.