Dead Men's Harvest (33 page)

Jennifer read the menace in his features. She twisted past Baron to place him between Cain and herself. Baron grasped her by the neck of her blouse, pulling her back towards the lifeboat where the other crewman took hold of her, ready to throw her aboard.

‘Leave her,’ Cain said. ‘She’s not coming with us.’

The crewman was a tall, thin man with receding hair and pale blue eyes. Another Russian, Cain guessed. He wouldn’t understand his command, so Cain decided to show him instead. He stalked forward, lifting his Tanto, and went to grab at Jennifer, but came up short as Baron gripped him round the wrist. Cain stopped, and peered into the man’s bland face. ‘Release me or lose your hand,’ he warned.

‘Don’t do this, Cain.’ Baron’s voice too held a note of warning. His gun was only a second away from Cain’s gut. ‘You’re angry that Telfer hasn’t come. I understand that, but the woman’s worth far more to us alive than dead.’

‘Let. Me. Go.’

Baron slowly unfurled his fingers, but he didn’t step aside. ‘We can still use her, Cain.’ This time he tried to reason with Cain’s better sense. ‘Hunter and who knows who else is on board. We might need her as a shield.’

‘You still expect to use her as a bargaining chip? That’s finished with. If Walter Conrad sends anyone now, it won’t be John Telfer . . . it’ll be a full strike team.’

‘Hunter might be working under his own power. Who’s to say the CIA even knows he’s here? You can still use Jennifer to get what you want, Cain . . . but not if she’s dead.’

Cain fumed. ‘You know something, Baron? You’re right.’ He flicked a command to the Russian crewman. ‘Well, what are you waiting for? Get her on the boat.’

Jennifer had taken the opportunity to move a few steps away while the men had been caught in the tense moment. Now, as the Russian turned for her again, she shook her head adamantly, refusing to get on the lifeboat.

‘Do not try me, woman!’ Cain roared. ‘Baron has just won you a reprieve. Now get on the goddamn boat before I change my mind again!’

‘Fuck you, Cain,’ Jennifer said with equal ferocity. ‘And fuck you, Baron. You aren’t using me to murder my husband!’

Then she threw herself over the rail and into the storm-ridden sea.

Despite himself, Cain lunged after her, but it was a fruitless task. She was gone and that was that.

‘No!’

The shout burst unbidden through the night.

But it wasn’t Cain’s yell of frustration, or that of Baron or the Russian.

Cain turned slowly, and watched the man materialise out of the pouring rain, a gun in his hand.

Chapter 43

Going door to door, I checked every conceivable place that Cain could have hidden Jenny, but I had no luck. Part of me was relieved, because if she was in any of those rooms, then she would be dead already. No, Cain must have taken her with him. I was positive that it was his face I’d seen through the porthole just before the crazy man with the meat-cleaver attacked me. Seeing his opportunity, Cain must have ushered her away to another part of the ship. I doubted he’d go deeper into the bowels, now that he realised a rescue party was on board. A stronger likelihood would be that he had taken her up; to use Jenny as a hostage. That was the theory, but I’d still to continue my search.

A set of double doors opened into a galley. The place stank of spoiled food and unwashed bodies, and nicotine-laden stains coloured everything a deep tan. Though not somewhere I’d like to sit down and eat, it was still one of the cleanest rooms I’d come across on the
Queen Sofia
. My vision flashed to a stain on a distant table. Moving quickly, I went to check and saw something that brought bile into my throat. There was a fan of blood on the table, punctuated at the narrow end by a shallow nick in the tabletop. I could guess what had happened there, but didn’t want to think who had lost a digit to Cain’s blade. I had the sudden urge to kick the table over, to demolish it beyond recognition, but what purpose would that serve? Better that I go find the bastard who had made Jenny suffer.

My boot scuffed something: a severed finger. I scanned the floor and there was another. Over by the wall was yet another, and something tiny that could have only been a toe. In my time I’ve seen many horrific sights, but there was something so disturbing about the presence of those scattered digits that I almost vomited. I headed for the nearest door and was surprised to find a narrow vestibule, and a set of stairs leading upwards. On the third stair up there was a droplet of blood, more blood on the next step. It appeared that Cain had taken Jenny that way, and that she was still bleeding. The son of a bitch
had
hacked off one of her fingers, and my only grateful thought was that the other digits on the floor had been too thick and long to have belonged to her.

I went up the stairs warily, my SIG held poised to shoot. Last time we’d fought Tubal Cain he’d been in hiding and had ambushed Rink. Only Rink’s supercharged reactions had saved him from having his throat opened wide by Cain’s knife. The scar on Rink’s chin was a sore reminder of how close he’d come to death, though.

The droplets of blood led me upwards, like the breadcrumbs in some insane version of the Hansel and Gretel tale. In that story there’d been a cannibalistic witch plotting to devour children, but even the old hag was nowhere near as much of a monster as Cain. Throwing caution aside, I went up the stairs three at a time and banged out of a door and on to a rain-swept deck.

In front of me were the towers of stacked containers, behind me the aft of the ship. I swung round, seeking movement, but the downpour made it difficult to see far. I headed forward, following the wall of the steel containers along the starboard rail. Any second, I thought, and I’d find Cain. My nerves were strung taut, and adrenalin began to flood my senses. I had my game face on.

‘Where the fuck are you, Cain?’ I whispered, confident that I wouldn’t be heard over the drumming of rain and the groaning of the shifting containers.

Then, a second thought struck me. What had become of Ray Hartlaub?

Chapter 44

The man approaching with his gun extended in both hands didn’t look like he’d the strength to support the gun much longer. His face was smeared with grease, but looked very pale between the streaks, and blood pooled on the deck beneath his boots. He was dying but he could still drill the three of them full of bullets before his strength gave out.

Cain had no clue who the man was, but he’d a good idea why he was here. He was a friend of Joe Hunter who’d come to help save Jennifer from the nasty Harvestman. Cain shook his head. Hell, a few moments earlier he might have even stood a chance. The old
chaos factor
had definitely kicked in.

‘Drop your fucking weapons!’

Cain held his hands out to his side, allowed the Tanto to fall on to the deck. He nudged it away with the toe of his shoe. Baron wasn’t as happy to relinquish his gun, and the man jabbed his barrel at him. Finally Baron allowed the gun to fall to the deck. It clattered on the metal, sliding away as the deck pitched on a high wave. The sudden surge meant the gunman also staggered, and Cain noted that his left leg could barely sustain his weight.

‘Which one of you motherfuckers is Tubal Cain?’ the stranger asked as he shuffled closer.

Cain understood what would happen should he reveal his identity. He jabbed a finger at the tall Russian. The man glanced at the crewman, but he was not taken in. He returned his attention to Cain, looked him up and down. The man could barely focus, being so close to fainting. ‘What’s up, Cain? Too much of a coward to man up to who you are?’

Cain chuckled.

The man lowered his head slightly, peering at Cain from under heavy brows, and suddenly his gaze was fixed. ‘Try laughing this off, asshole.’

The man fired.

Cain jerked, but it was at the scream of the tall Russian as he took the bullet in his gut. The Russian fell to his knees, both hands grabbing at his wound.

The stranger pointed at the mortally wounded man. ‘See, that’s how I feel right now. I’m in the same kind of pain as he is, and that thoroughly pisses me off. So if I were you, I’d stop the fucking wisecracks before I do the same to you.’

Cain wondered why the man hadn’t simply shot him. ‘You’re Walter Conrad’s man?’

‘Was, but I see things clearly now. I came here to take you back to Fort Conchar.’ The man grimaced in agony. ‘But I’ve changed my mind.’

‘So what’s the alternative? A clean death?’

‘That’s right.’

‘For me or for you?’

‘You, asshole.’

‘Wrong!’ Cain yelled.

From out of the shadows to the stranger’s right came another figure and he too had a gun raised.

Confused by Cain’s shout, the stranger reacted too late. He was now faced by three targets and had no idea which one of them to shoot first. He should have chosen the newcomer.

It was the driver, Pete Eckhart, who’d come with Cain from Baltimore. He stepped up close to the stranger and shot him in the side. The bullet hit like a heavyweight boxer’s punch to his ribs and he staggered. His left leg buckled under him and he went down on one knee. Eckhart swung the gun to shoot again, but even mortally wounded the guy still had some fight in him. He brought round his own gun and fired, taking out Eckhart’s groin. Eckhart screamed and dropped his gun, then went down on the deck, the blood pooling around him so viscous that even the pouring rain failed to dissipate it.

‘You goddamn . . .’ The stranger tried to target his gun again.

Cain was already on the move. But so was Baron. The man flew like a hawk, his hand reaching under his belt as he swooped towards the injured man. Before the stranger could fire again, blue light crackled as Baron jammed the Taser in the hollow under his jaw. The stranger shuddered, a long scream rising from his lips that stuttered in time with the electrical charge racking his body.

Cain came up with his Bowie, and drove in past Baron, plunging the heavy blade between the man’s ribs and into his heart. Some of the charge from Baron’s Taser crackled up the hilt and into Cain’s hand, but he held tight, grinning manically as the light went out of the stranger’s eyes.

Finally both men stepped away, Cain withdrawing the blade with a harsh sucking noise. ‘Well, Baron, that was a bit of a buzz.’

Baron didn’t catch his quip, or if he had, was as unimpressed as usual. Cain tried again, ‘Let’s finish off this pain in the neck.’ He stooped down and jammed the Bowie into the base of the stranger’s skull, then sawed the tip back and forth. He looked up at Baron for approval, only to see that the man had merely busied himself with clipping the Taser back on to his belt. ‘Sometimes I wonder why I bother,’ Cain muttered.

He left the Bowie in the corpse, like it was a marker on the man’s grave. He stood, looking around at the three dead or dying men. The Russian would take a little time to die, but Cain wasn’t the type for pity. After retrieving his downed Tanto, he just knocked Baron’s elbow. ‘Come on. Joe Hunter’s still here. I think it’s time to go and say hello.’

‘Yeah.’ This time Baron did laugh.

Chapter 45

I heard the gunshots and knew the answer to my question.

Hartlaub was in no fit state to take on Cain, so at the cessation of gunfire I had a horrible feeling what I would find. It spurred me with even more determination. Cain had caused untold suffering to people I cared for, and now I suspected that I could add Hartlaub to that tally. If there was any justice in this world, I’d make Cain suffer . . . tenfold.

The ship pitched and then yawed to starboard. The deck went from under my feet for the briefest of moments and I almost went over the side. I wondered if Lassiter and Terry would still be around to fish me out of the water. If they were even a fraction as loyal as Hartlaub had turned out, then there was no question. Steadying myself, I headed for the port side, seeking the source of the brief gun battle.

The most direct route was between the towering stacks, but as the ship rose and fell, I could detect movement in the upper levels that I didn’t like. It seemed that the ship’s ill maintenance was a factor everywhere, and I didn’t trust that the containers had been secured as firmly as they should be. The last thing I wanted was to head through one of the narrow walkways only to find a thousand tons of steel falling on my head. I went quickly towards the front, where I recalled the collection of machine rooms were, as well as an exit from the lower decks. As I progressed, I thumbed the button to release the clip on my SIG, took out a fresh one and slapped it in place. It was the old Boy Scout in me: be prepared.

The rain didn’t let up for a moment. Earlier I’d worried that the sea water dripping from our clothes would give Hartlaub and me away; that was no longer an issue, but the rain had caused me other problems. It had wiped out the trail of blood I’d followed until now, and also covered any trail Cain might have left behind.

Coming across the machine rooms, I used one as cover while I peered over towards the port-side rail. There was a lifeboat hanging on winches, and it looked like it had been prepped for launching. Were Jenny and Cain already on board? If they were then they were being very quiet. Was Cain holding a knife to her throat and threatening to kill her if she made a sound? Or worse: had he silenced her permanently? There was only one way to find out. I snuck out from behind the machine room, heading for the boat.