Exposure Read online

  It was now or never.

  He fired the derringer, simultaneously diving behind the chair. He rolled back into position, the metal-framed chair offering at least a modicum of protection. Firing another round, he successfully brought down the gunman. The captain dove for cover, but there wasn't much available in the small bridge.

  The third man hit the floor, crawling forward for the dead man's gun, but Nigel was faster coining up over the top of the chair, nailing the bastard with a single shot. Two down—one to go. The captain was all eyes now, evidently more brain than brawn, the seriousness of the situation dawning. Raising his hands, he stood slowly, surrendering.

  Nigel was tempted to take him out, but knew it would be better in the long run to leave someone to answer questions. Besides, he might need a hostage. "Turn around." His terse order was obeyed immediately, and Nigel crossed to stand behind the man, retrieving both his gun and the dead man's on the way.

  Using the butt of the Sig Sauer, he quickly dispatched the captain, successfully sending him to la-la land. Taking the man's belt, Nigel bound his hands and then gagged him with a handkerchief. That ought to hold him until Nigel could round up the troops.

  His communication pack lay on the counter running beneath the bridge window. Scooping it up, he switched it to on, trying to raise Gabe. The static was deafening. And despite attempts to fine-tune the connection, there was nothing. He switched frequencies then, trying to raise Melissa, but again only got static, his heart rate ratcheting up as his imagination began to ran amuck.

  Switching frequencies again, he tried to get Sam. It took three tries, but finally he heard her tinny voice asking what was wrong.

  "I've run into a bit of trouble. Two casualties and a man out of commission. I'm fine, but I can't raise Gabe or Melissa, and I' m not sure how many more of them there are. Have you had any trouble?"

  "No. It's been quiet here. No sign of anyone at all. No R-VX, either, although I've only just started to look. Is it possible that Melissa and Gabe just have their mikes turned off?"

  "Negative." Nigel shook his head. "Gabe at least should have had his on in case of emergency. Besides, if they were off, I'd get dead air. Instead I'm getting static." His heart was racing now, the thought of Melissa in trouble far more frightening than the situation he'd just escaped from. He needed to find her—and find her fast. "I'm going to try and find them."

  "Do you want me to come?"

  "Not yet." Better they didn't play all their cards until they knew what they were up against. "But keep this line open. I'll be in touch as soon as I know something."

  "All right," Sam said, her matter-of-fact tone laced with the barest hint of worry. "I'll be waiting."

  Nigel signed off without answering, already moving toward the main staircase leading directly below decks. The stairs were empty, thank God, and the staircase dumped him at the end of a hallway with an open door across from him and the passageway extending on to the right.

  He cautiously stepped out of the alcove housing the stairs, taking a moment to size up the situation. The passage was empty, the bare bulbs giving it a gray-future-world kind of feel. He was just starting to move down the hall, when a groan from the room behind him sent him spinning around, the Sig ready.

  Something moved on the floor just inside the door, repeating the groan. Nigel moved forward, his eyes fixed on the target. A dark head lifted, icy blue eyes meeting his.

  "Jesus, Gabe." Nigel spoke the words on an exhale, rushing to his friend's side, memories of the bloody courtyard in Iraq parading through his mind. "What the hell happened?"

  "Shot," Gabe managed, struggling to a sitting position. "Force of the thing knocked me out. But I think I' m okay. Just nicked my collarbone. Hurts like hell."

  "Who shot you?" Nigel asked, helping his friend to his feet.

  "Khamis. And he's got Melissa." Gabe struggled for balance. "Sorry."

  "Fucking hell," Nigel said. "How many men have you seen?"

  "Four, including a cook, not counting al-Rashid. They were up the hall a bit in a rec room. The cook was in the galley."

  Nigel nodded, figuring one of them was probably the man who'd caught him at the bridge. Which meant three unaccounted for besides Khamis. The odds of there being more weren't all that great. It was unlikely anyone was out in the storm, and Sam had said the hold was unoccupied. "Will you be okay if I leave you here?"

  "I can come."

  "The hell you can. You'd only be a detriment and you know it." Nigel headed for the door, then turned back, reaching for the revolver he'd secured at the small of his back. "You have a gun?"

  "No." Gabe shook his head. "He took it."

  "Here, take this one." He handed the gun to Gabe. "The previous owner won't be needing it anymore."

  "I take it you had your share of trouble, too?"

  "Yes, but I came out on the winning side."

  Gabe grimaced, and Nigel immediately regretted the remark, opening his mouth to say as much, but Gabe held up a hand, shaking his head. "I know. Just go."

  Nigel ripped off his earpiece, tossing the entire unit to Gabe. "Call Sam. Have her meet you here. And if you can raise Payton, better call for backup."

  Gabe nodded, sitting down on the bed, his color slightly better.

  "All right then, I'll be back as soon as I can." With Melissa, he added silently to himself. Please, with Melissa.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  NIGEL STEPPED OUT into the corridor, forcing himself to slow to a walk. He couldn't help Melissa if he allowed himself to be captured again. He was fairly certain Khamis hadn't taken her up the main staircase, because he'd have seen him, or at least heard him.

  Moving as swiftly as he dared, he headed down the hallway. A small bedroom and what appeared to be the dining room were both empty, as was the galley, the cook obviously having moved on to something more interesting—hopefully not Melissa.

  There were two storage areas right after the galley. The first was empty, and Nigel approached the second with something less than caution, assuming the small closet would prove no threat.

  About a foot from the door, he came full stop, his fingers tightening on the gun. Someone inside the storage room was humming. His first thought was Melissa, but as he edged closer he realized that the voice was decidedly male.

  Swinging into the room, his gun centered on the back of an apron-clad man. The cook. Flipping the weapon butt first, he struck the man on the side of the head, catching him as he fell to prevent noise. Once the fellow was laid out, Nigel grabbed a broom and snapped it over his knee. Taking the broken handle, he stepped back into the hallway, closing the watertight door behind him, then jamming the handle into the door's wheel latch, effectively locking the man inside.

  Satisfied that for the moment at least all was secure, he surveyed his surroundings. The corridor continued straight ahead, but there was also a short passage to the right, ending at the hatch that led onto the deck. Light spilled out of a doorway near the end of the passage, most likely the rec room Gabe had spoken of. The room was empty, two beer mugs the only indication the room had recently been occupied.

  Backtracking, he headed to the original corridor, this time taking the left side. This passage was darker than the others, several of the lightbulbs burned out, the resulting shadows both a liability and a blessing.

  There were two rooms ahead on his right, one well lit, the other just a shadow against the wall. The first housed two bunks, the upper one occupied by a sleeping sailor, his even breathing assuring Nigel that at least for the moment he was no threat. Carefully pulling the door closed, he tied the door shut with a piece of twine, securing it so that Sleeping Beauty couldn't escape should he awake at an inopportune moment.

  Content with his makeshift padlock, Nigel moved forward to the second doorway. Beyond that he could see the dim lightbulb illuminating a third set of stairs, leading no doubt to the bridge. If this room was clear, he'd have to face the fact that Khamis had discovered his handiwork, th
ereby upping Khamis's odds considerably.

  Leaning back against the rusted wall, Nigel breathed deeply, trying for a calm he didn't feel, the thought of Melissa in the hands of someone like Khamis sending anger and fear coursing through him.

  He waited a full minute, allowing the emotions to run their course. It was always better to face fear and then vanquish it, rather than pretend it didn't exist. Calmer, he inched toward the last door, his fingers tightening on the trigger of the Sig.

  The soft murmur of voices reached him first, and then he recognized the faint light of a lamp. There were people in the room. The question was how many and whom.

  Inching forward, he risked a quick look. The room was meant to be a parlor of sorts, a ragged sofa at one end and a couple of weatherworn armchairs at the other. A battered bookshelf stood in between, curiously devoid of tomes. It was a sad little room, but what interested Nigel most was the man standing near the sofa. He was motioning with his left hand, a lethal-looking Walther flashing in the light. Apparently he was talking to himself, or on a two-way because there was no one else visible.

  Nigel held his breath, waiting for the man to stop talking— willing him not to turn around. As if by command, the man lowered his right hand, the two-way transmitter visible now. In one swift motion, Nigel crossed the room and rendered the man unconscious.

  After rolling the man into a corner out of sight, Nigel grabbed the transmitter and dashed back into the hallway in time to see Sam rounding the corner on her way to Gabe. She stopped and started toward him, but he shook his head, motioning her back the other way. Better not to involve anyone else. Not to mention the fact that he would feel a hell of a lot better knowing there was someone to keep an eye on Gabe. He might not be mortally wounded, but it was a nasty injury nevertheless. Besides, all things considered, Nigel liked his odds.

  Worst case, there was Khamis and the captain to deal with. Best case, the captain was still undiscovered and the only one he had to face would be al-Rashid. Of course, the fact that the bastard had the woman Nigel loved changed the parameters of the game a bit. But push come to shove, Nigel usually pulled the win out of the fire. And now certainly wasn't the time to go changing his average.

  The staircase led as he'd expected to the U-shaped hallway flanking the bridge. Waiting for a moment in the shadows, he searched the hallway for signs of life, and then, finding none, stepped out into the corridor. The door leading to the bridge was almost across from him, and he ducked low in case his handiwork had been discovered. Crouching under the bottom edge of the door's window he had an unsettling sense of déjà vu.

  Except this time he wasn't about to let anyone sneak up on him. He moved slowly until he could see into the bridge. The dead bodies were just where he'd left them. But the captain was gone.

  Nigel swallowed a curse. If Khamis had found the captain, it was possible that he knew Nigel was here. Of course it was also possible that he had attributed the attack to Gabe. They were of a similar height and build. As long as the captain hadn't seen Gabe, it was possible Khamis would believe the problem had been handled.

  Which still meant that Nigel would have a slight advantage. Unfortunately, there was no way to be certain. And to make matters worse, if Khamis believed the threat was over, there'd be no reason to keep Melissa alive. The thought was enough to send terror racing through him, his pace reflecting his inner turmoil. After first checking the radioman's room, and then the closet, he turned the corner, heading for the captain's quarters.

  It was the only room of any size in the far corridor and, unless they were on the move, the most likely place for them to be holed up. The idea of Melissa in a bedroom with a murderous thug like Khamis was almost more than Nigel could stomach, but no matter how horrifying the thought of Khamis hurting her in any way, it wouldn't help Melissa for him to lose his cool and announce his presence.

  To that end he slowed his pace, using his breathing to slow his racing heart.

  The captain's room was just around the corner, and if both men were there, then the odds were definitely running against him. Still, he had the advantage of surprise, and that always counted for something.

  Almost as if on cue the transmitter crackled to life. "Umbert, are you there?" The question was repeated twice, and Nigel was fairly certain he recognized the captain's voice. For a moment, Nigel considered trying an answer but discarded the notion. The odds were against his sounding anything like the now prostrate Umbert. No point in tipping his hand. Although Umbert's silence would certainly raise questions.

  After turning off the transmitter, he made his way around the corner and, keeping his back to the wall, inched forward until he was just outside the door of the captain's quarters. Angry voices carried down the corridor, and Nigel fought to separate and identify the actual words.

  "I assure you he's dead." The voice was low and clearly Arabic, although he was speaking perfect English. "I stepped over his body myself."

  "Then how is it that we've lost contact with Umbert and the others?" The second voice was definitely the captain's. "I tell you, he has to be alive."

  "Or there is someone else." Khamis's voice faded as he turned away from the door. "Tell me who else was with you."

  "Just the man you killed."

  Nigel recognized Melissa's voice, his gut clenching simultaneously with joy and fear. He had to get her out of there.

  "There would have been more." There was a thread of anger in Khamis's voice.

  "No. I already told you, we were certain that two could handle the job." Melissa's tone was taunting, and Nigel clenched a fist, wanting nothing more than to pound al-Rashid to a bloody pulp. But even if he had that luxury, there was still the captain to deal with. And of course the little matter of getting past both of their guns.

  He considered the idea of going back for Sam, or to see if perhaps Gabe had enough strength to hold a gun after all. But even if his friend had managed to recover enough to help, there simply wasn't time to make it there and back. If they were questioning the silence of the crew, it wouldn't be long until they decided to confirm the fact. And in his absence, anything could happen—Khamis could move Melissa or, worse, kill her.

  The thought spurred him into action, and for the barest of seconds he allowed himself to move forward enough to peer into the room. Melissa was standing almost dead center in front of the door, her face in profile. An ugly purple bruise glared from her left cheek, but other than that she seemed unharmed.

  Khamis stood to the right of her, Melissa's body blocking any attempt Nigel might make to take the man out. He held a gun in his right hand, his hand like a vise around her wrist.

  The captain stood opposite Melissa behind an oversize chair. He, too, held a gun, although his hand was relaxed. His focus, like Khamis's, was on Melissa and her insistence that there were no others on board the ship.

  "What about my men?" he queried.

  "I'm sure my colleague took them out. We separated in the passageway." She glanced first at the captain and then over at Khamis as if for support. "You saw him. He certainly fits the description. And believe me, he's more than capable of taking out a few sailors." Her face darkened, grief and anger mixing together as she glared at her captor. "Or at least he was—until you shot him." If words were venom, Khamis would be dead.

  Despite the desperate nature of the situation, Nigel's heart lightened a bit. Melissa as usual was right on task, supporting the idea that Gabe had been the one in the bridge earlier. Nigel sobered on another thought. She was protecting him to the last, despite the fact that she had no way of knowing he was just outside the door.

  God, he loved this woman.

  He shifted back, leaning against the wall for support, running through scenarios in his mind, none of them seeming like a good solution. If he stormed the room, he risked Melissa getting shot. If he tried to pick the two men off one at a time, he risked them finding him first. It was a rock and a bloody hard place any way he looked at it.

  "Hey." A
whispered voice came from his immediate left. Nigel spun around, ready for defense and then relaxed as he recognized Payton's scarred face. "Sam said maybe you could use a little help."

  "You're lucky I didn't blow your head off."

  "I trust your reflexes." Payton shrugged.

  "How's Gabe?"

  "Sore as hell and a little groggy. Sam's with him. They're trying to get through to the mainland. What have you got here?" He tilted his head toward the open door.

  "Khamis is in there with Melissa and the ship's captain. Both men have guns, and neither of them is a clear shot. To get Khamis we'd have to go through Melissa, and the captain is standing behind a wing chair."

  "No time to wait for the cavalry. Sounds like we need to do something to change the odds." Payton's smile held a wicked glint, and Nigel couldn't remember the last time he'd been so happy to see someone.

  "Exactly my thoughts," Nigel whispered, "but I haven't been able to come up with a damn thing."

  "Emotion wreaks havoc with logic." There was no judgment in Payton's tone, only understanding. "What's with the transmitter?" Payton glanced at the walkie-talkie clipped to Nigel's belt.

  "I took it off one of Khamis's henchmen," Nigel said. "Figured he didn't need it anymore."

  "So maybe we can use it to our advantage." Payton risked an assessing look into the room and then pulled back. "I can create a distraction. Make them think their man is in trouble. With a little luck one or both of them will come running. If they both come out of the room, we'll divide and conquer. If only of them comes out, then I'll take him and leave Khamis to you. Piece of cake." His smile was crooked. "We've dealt with a hell of a lot worse and lived to tell about it."

  With Payton standing there, it suddenly felt like old times, adrenaline pumping, the odds making it more interesting.

  "There's a radio room up ahead. If you rig the transmitter there, and turn on some of the equipment, they'll recognize the sounds and know where the transmission is coming from. I'll duck around the corner." He tilted his head toward the hallway behind him. "With a little luck, we'll take them both at once."