Gone Black (31 page)

When they reached the windswept top of the unbelievably high cliff and looked out over the island, there wasn't much to see. Pretty much just deserted scrubland with a large hulking volcanic mountain rising up against the cloudless blue sky. Claire sank down on the ground to rest, but she kept looking back toward the fortress to see if anybody was coming. She did not want to be taken by surprise. She did not want to be taken, period. She saw no one, but the trail skirting the edge of the sheer precipice wasn't exactly a safe traveling track, either.

Black was still up on his feet and looking around, apparently trying to gauge the best direction to go. He finally elected to head inland. “We'll rest a few more minutes here and then start out toward those low foothills. Surely we'll find something there. Somebody friendly. Or at the least, a stream or a pool of rainwater, maybe. Hopefully, we'll run across a village or a fishing port along here somewhere. Most of these islands are inhabited mostly by fishermen.”

“So you've been here?”

“I've been to Marsala and some other places in Sicily.”

Black didn't elaborate further, and Claire didn't ask. If he knew what to do and where to go, all power to him. After a short rest spent watching the fortress and the cliff trail, they pulled themselves up again and trudged on. Up so high, the sea breeze was stiff against their faces but cooling, too, which was a good thing. The sun was very hot on their bare heads. Claire was sunburned already, and her hand ached so badly that she couldn't quite ignore the pain, anymore. She wanted to fall down and cry and moan and wallow in the dirt and yell about how much it hurt, but she didn't. It wasn't bleeding much, though. It had been washed clean by the salt water, but that had also made it burn like fire. Or maybe hell. Maybe even worse than hell.

They continued on, across uneven acres upon acres filled with dusty brush and bushes and rocks, but finally ended up at a tree line where they could walk in the shade of some pathetic-looking, sea-wind-bent scrawny trees. But it seemed like hours before they came to a little creek running with fresh, clean water. All three of them just waded in to their knees and then collapsed in the cool, delicious water, submerging their hot, tired bodies, and drinking their fill from cupped hands. In Claire's case, one cupped hand. After that, Claire began to feel a lot better. Hydration was good. Not that she really felt good about anything going on, but better, maybe.

Rico was beginning to lag now, struggling to keep going on his little legs, until Black finally swung him up and carried him on his back, but he still kept the rifle gripped in his right hand and ready to fire. Claire followed them, her gun in her hand, too, thinking Black looked big and sexy and tough in a bearded, scruffy, Me Tarzan–You Jane sorta way, and then was rather amazed but glad that she could even think about something like that under such horrendous circumstances. She checked her own weapon again, made sure it was still in good working order. She knew they were in a brief respite of sorts, but she also knew that couldn't last much longer. They were being pursued by vicious, murdering criminals, and they better not forget it.

The island appeared to be deserted of any and all human habitation, except for the killers and their own private killing fortress and lots of wild goats and wild horses that they espied from afar. Black had turned now and was heading in what he judged to be southeast, because he said it would probably be the closest point to mainland Sicily and most likely where they would find some kind of civilization, if there was any civilization. As it turned out, a couple of hours later, he was right on with his analysis.

Once they reached the gradual rise of the high rock mountain that appeared to run down the center of the island, they began to get a few glimpses of possible human existence. There were small empty pens along a beaten path, probably meant for goats, the gates hanging open. They also happened upon trash here and there, tossed along the narrow trail, but no people, no sign of life, not yet. By late afternoon, they caught sight of what looked like a deserted hut with a lean-to shed at one side. Black told them to stay out of sight and wait while he checked it out. They both sat down, very willing not to take another step for a while.

Nothing proved to be inside the hut, however, but it was shelter from the sun and from beaded-in gun sights, so they moved inside and collapsed on the hard dirt floor. Not long, though, because not much time passed before they heard people approaching, masculine voices floating in the quiet air. Black jumped up and stood where he could watch out the window, his rifle focused squarely on the turn in the path, his eye already on the scope. Claire took the other window and positioned her gun similarly. She waited for Jaxy to round that curve and flounce into sight with her bloody pink sap, wanting to be the one who shot her first. But it wasn't Jaxy who showed up. It was Will Novak, and he was running fast with Booker and Holliday right behind him.

“That's Will!” Claire cried.

Black was already outside, striding up the trail to meet his friends. They all looked even more relieved than Claire felt. Booker clasped Black's hand. Claire ran up to Novak and hugged him as tight as she could, as if she'd never let him go, and truly was never so glad to see a partner in her entire life.

Novak hugged her close and shook his head. “You get in more trouble than anybody I've ever known in my entire life. I'm gonna start callin' you Job.”

“I'm glad to see you, too.”

At that, Novak gave her one of his rare but coveted smiles.

“Goddamn, I'm glad to see you guys,” Black was saying to Booker. “Did you get them? I heard the gunfire.”

“We got everybody inside the fortress, just stormed it and took them out. But there weren't that many there. Where's the rest of them?”

Black frowned. “They're probably out here looking for us.”

Claire interrupted. “Did you get a girl with red hair?”

“No. Jaxy wasn't in there. Neither was Max or Marcel. We looked for you first, and interrogated one of their men before he died, and he told us that she was out here hunting you down. Wanted you dead before she left the island and went to her dad. Apparently, Marcel took off on his jet not long after his son got killed. Had a heart attack or something. Took the plane and left Jaxy here to clean things up. The guy said Jaxy wouldn't go, anyway. She's totally obsessed with putting you two down. They're coming back for her as soon as she gets the job done.”

“Max is dead so you don't have to worry about him,” Claire told them but didn't elaborate. She was not pleased to hear that Marcel Soquet was alive and could come after Black again. But Jaxy was on their trail right now. She was the immediate danger. Claire looked around, anxious again. Jaxy was not to be underestimated, despite their friends and the new firepower.

“How did you find us?” That was Black, but he looked as relieved as Claire felt.

“We saw you from the top of the fortress, walking inland. We were afraid you'd run into that crazy woman somewhere down this way so we got out here as quickly as we could.”

“Well, thank God for that. Did you see any sign of her from up there?”

“No, but they're probably somewhere pretty close. I do know that they're heavily armed.”

“We've gotta get off this island. You've got a boat, right?”

“Rented one in Marsala. It's not too far, hidden in a cove down the coast a bit. We need to get there in a hurry.”

“Yeah, we need to go now,” Black said.

Booker stared at Black a moment, hesitated. “You sure you're okay, Nick? You don't look so good.”

“Good enough. So are Claire and the kid. Let's just get the hell outta here. So where's that boat?”

“It'll probably take us about an hour to walk back to that cove, maybe less, if we cut straight across to the sea.”

“Okay, let's just go. I want off this goddamn island.”

“Hey, you got anything to eat?” Claire asked Novak. “They didn't exactly feed us gourmet meals. Or any meals, to be exact.”

Novak pulled out some energy bars, and Claire took them and handed them around. “Who's the little kid?” he asked Claire, looking behind her, to where Rico was hiding as he snarfed down his snack.

“That is Rico, my new friend for life. He saved our lives. Both of us. He's quite a little hero. Trust me on that.”

Rico grinned when he heard how Claire was bragging on him, but he was pretty much concentrating on eating the energy bar as fast as he could get it in his mouth. Claire's didn't last long, either.

Novak was frowning. “My God, what happened to your hand?”

“You don't want to know. Guess you don't have any Betadine on you.”

“Yeah, I do. And a bandage. Let me see it.”

Claire continued eating her bar while he unwrapped the shirtsleeve and looked down at her slashed-wide-open palm.

“Good God, Claire, this is sliced down almost to the bone.”

“Yeah, I noticed that almost the minute it happened.”

Shaking his head, Novak got the medicine out of his pack and dumped some right down into the wound, and Claire cried out and nearly jumped out of her skin. Then he started wrapping gauze tightly around her hand, pushing the edges of the wound together as he did it. “My God, Novak, you've got the touch of a baboon. Let Black do it. He knows how to be gentle.”

But Black was more interested in getting them the hell out of danger. Claire didn't mind that. That's what she wanted him to do. He had taken charge of the group again, just like that. He was the leader, all right. He was scanning all around and looking anxious now.

“Okay, let's just get going,” said Black, not interested in eating or anything else. No doubt wanting to get as far away from Jaxy and her torture chamber as he could get. Claire could not blame him.

So they took off again, now with a more hopeful outlook, heading back to the sea and walking at a faster clip than before. Black and Booker led the way with Novak and Holliday bringing up the rear, all armed, all alert, and watching every side for trouble. Claire's nerves had finally begun to settle down a bit. Having three more great big, well-trained, well-armed men to fight alongside her really upped the odds somehow. While they moved along the sandy paths through the seemingly miles of scrabbly scrub bushes, Booker started telling them about Marseilles and how they were tricked by the GPS signal.

“Yeah, they had this whole operation planned out and down to every stinkin' detail. They probably worked it out for months, years, even,” Black said, his voice bitter. “If it weren't for Claire and Rico, I'd be dead. Or soon would be.”

Their fast pace back toward the sea curtailed any more idle chitchat, and in time they finally reached the quiet cove where Booker had anchored the boat. It was a small fishing craft moored just off the beach, and they wasted no time heading down the sloping cliff side. It was steep and perilous with loose gravel and shifting sand, but Claire didn't know who was the most eager to get the hell in that boat and out of this place, the rescued or the rescuers. But she, for one, wanted desperately to be out on the ocean before anything else bad happened.

But too bad. They weren't that lucky.

Shots began to ring out above them from atop the surrounding cliffs and from both sides. Novak went down first with a bullet in his left shoulder. Claire grabbed Rico and fell on her stomach on the path about twenty yards up from the beach.
Oh, God,
she thought,
it has to be Jaxy.
That she-devil was up above and firing down at them like the proverbial fish in a barrel. They moved back into the cliff face as best they could, pressing their backs up against the rocks, trying to flatten themselves to lessen the target.

Claire inched over to Novak and tried to stanch the blood streaming out from just under his clavicle. It was a clean shot and hadn't hit a bone, but it was bleeding heavily. She returned his earlier favor of acting the nurse, pulling out gauze and wrapping it over his shoulder and under his arm. He was being stoic, but it had to hurt like hell. He wasn't showing his pain. He was showing an eagerness to fight. She had a feeling he'd been in tough spots before and survived them, and that he planned to do so this time, too.

Black, Booker, and Holliday were firing back, taking potshots up at their attackers, but there was no way they could see them. Jaxy's men had the high ground in this gunfight, and were shooting from both sides of the cliff trail. They couldn't tell how many there were or exactly where they were. They were firing down at them at a rate that indicated Jaxy had a lot of men with her. Then it got real quiet for a moment, and they waited, still backed up tightly against the rocks.

“We've gotta make a run for that boat.” That was Novak, breathing hard. In pain now.

Booker said, “No way. We'd never make it across that beach without getting mowed down.”

“We can't stay here,” Claire told them. “They're gonna pick us off one at a time. All they have to do is spread out a little farther up there and they can hit us, even under this ledge.”

Nobody said anything to that, because they all knew that was true. There were no options. They were trapped this time. The boat rocked on the waves only about thirty yards out in the water, but they'd have to cross the open sand to get there. No way could they make it. They all were experienced enough to know it, too.

“They want me,” Black said. “I'm gonna give myself up. See if they'll let the rest of you go.”

“No, you're not. They're not gonna let us go for any reason. They want us dead. All of us.” Claire shook her head, nixing that idea in the bud. So did the others.