Vanishing Point (Circle of Spies Novella) (9 page)

Will didn’t say anything at first. With controlled motions, he lifted a bench and pulled out a flask of vodka. The clear liquid splashed into a shot glass, and he downed it. He wiped his lips. “I’m in charge tonight. We don’t want any surprises.”

A slow burn spread across Marisa’s cheeks. In other words, they didn’t want her screwing up again. “Why am I here?”

“We, that is you and I, are going to infiltrate a monastery on that far island, do a little poking around, then return to the boat. Simple.”

 
“Oh, gee, that’s it?” Her arms trembled and a flush pricked her skin. “Regardless of what you think, I don’t really have that kind of experience.”
 

He didn’t even look her way but kept his eyes on the far island. “Our experience together so far says otherwise.”
 

Marisa decided to be brave. She sucked in a deep breath and asked the question that had been troubling her for days. “We’ve been working together now for a while. On that first trip to England, you said it was to observe me, to see if I was truly a threat.” She steadied her voice and continued before she lost courage. “Your family takes their time investigating targets. What’s the verdict on me? When is this going to stop? How can I convince you that regardless of my mother and ancestors I’m just a mom and that’s all I want to be?”
 

Her questions opened a gap between them. Silence hung heavy. He never answered her questions.

He opened a trap door in the floor and pulled out a scuba suit. He stripped down to his boxer briefs. Marisa had seen younger men before, in magazines and such. But to have one undress, one with firm pecs and a flat stomach, did nothing for her. Relief rushed through her. Yes, the bared chest and muscular legs were nice to look at it but her heart was with Stephen, extra tummy flab and everything. If anything, she was a bit embarrassed at the tight quarters.
 

“How long will you be?” she asked.
 

Will zipped up the front. “About two hours. I’ll swim to shore. Scout out the monastery. My family hid a rowboat in the tall reeds on the eastern side of the island. I’ll return in it and then you and I will head ashore. I don’t want there to be any surprises.”
 

“You’re not going to kill anyone or anything, are you?” She ran her hands along the wall behind her for support as the boat moved with the water.

“Don’t plan on it.” Will smirked. “But as you know, anything can happen.” He fit his feet into flippers and sat on the edge of the boat.
 

She followed him, thinking of all the things that could go wrong on a boat this far out from shore. “Where are the life jackets?”
 

“Under the benches.” He slipped on the air tank. “Pour yourself a drink and enjoy the solitude. He sat on the edge, nodded goodbye, and fell backwards into the water.
 

Marisa couldn’t help but think how very dark it seemed now that she was alone. She peered into the night and didn’t look away until Will disappeared under the water.
 

The inky blackness rolled back on her causing a shiver to ripple across her shoulders. Alone as can be, she snuggled into the padded bench at the front of the boat, forgetting what exactly that was called. Port? Starboard? Who cares? What were Stephen and Savvy doing at home right now? Getting ready for the party on Saturday? Preparing the favors?
 

England and Paris were exciting, an escape from laundry and dirty dishes. But having spent so much time lately creating fake files and personas and keeping up the appearance that she was scrapbooking, she’d barely seen her family.
 

Never mind the sleepless nights, waking at every sound, fearing for their safety.
 

Time passed slowly. The sway of the boat and the feel of the waves gently rocking created a false sense of security. Invade a monastery? Sounded like nonsense. But looking back over the last hour or so and their ride out here, Will seemed different. Less annoyed with her this time and more of a grim determination. Clearly, he couldn’t stand working with her and this was something his family put him up to. So why now would he be less annoyed?

It took more than a few seconds, but the puzzle pieces clicked. What if? No way. She shook it off. He needed her tonight. On this mission.
 

But…

Her throat closed and she leaned forward and put her head between her knees. The realization sank in. Every sound increased her panic. Every noise became a threat. She imagined Will waiting out on the water for just the right moment gun in hand.
 

Was she the target tonight?
 

She cringed. After a few deep breaths, she sat. She just had to think like Beatrice DeWilflower. What would she do?

Search the boat for evidence. Clues. Maybe if she found the goods on Will and his family she could go to the police and end this whole nightmare. Or maybe she’d find clues about her past.

With one last penetrating stare into the darkness, straining to hear the sound of Will’s return, she slipped down the stairs into the captain’s quarters.

She prodded and poked but once she realized that nothing on the surface looked questionable or gave anything away, she sighed. Maybe this was all in her head. She had too much time sitting on a boat with nothing to do and no one to talk to. How long had Will been gone?

Maybe one last look around. Instead of rifling through every random drawer with no plan of attack, she stood and observed. Did anything look out of place? Everyone leaves some evidence behind.
 

Anything can happen
.
 

Will’s last words repeated in her mind. Was that a subtle slip? Did it really make sense that he left her behind? Why a boat hidden near the island? Why not a dingy attached to the sailboat? Nothing made sense. Why couldn’t she see it before?

With a fresh wave of panic the cabin blurred until her eyes locked on the small fridge and everything came into focus. It seemed rather silly to have a fridge on a sailboat with no electricity. Though, it could be used like a cooler, to keep bread from going moldy and things like that.
 

Her mouth fell open. No snacks. No cookies. No breakfast croissants.

Different colors wires sprouted out from a simple kitchen timer and sticks of dynamite. Marisa shut the fridge door and slumped to the ground. A bomb? A homemade bomb?
 

Holy shit. A bomb!

Marisa raced back up the narrow stairs. Her breaths came fast and hard. She leaned over trying to calm down and think rationally. This was all happening way too fast. How many seconds did she have left?

She dropped to her knees and whipped open the compartments under the padded benches, searching for the life vests. She’d swim if she had to. But wait. What was that? Even better. Clawing at the plastic, she ripped open the package.
 

What felt like a small explosion blew her backward. She fell and landed on her side. Bright orange covered her. The plastic of the life raft never smelled so good. Ignoring the pain and cringing with the anticipation of a real explosion, she slipped the small boat into the water. Then half-jumped half-fell into it. She’d wasted so much time, trusting, waiting.

With her hands on the oars, she paddled hard. Tears welled in her eyes. She wasn’t one to cry much, unless you count the one Regency romance that had her blubbering like a baby, but this was different. She was Will’s enemy. He’d said so himself. He was on missions to kill and she had stopped them inadvertently. Because of that, he believed she knew what she was doing, that she was a spy, his enemy.
 

But why here? He could’ve killed her at any point, any time, anywhere. Obviously, she’d failed his tests. He wanted something to look like a complete accident.
 

Marisa rowed hard. She dipped the oars in and out of the water. They slapped the sea but the dingy didn’t seem to go anywhere fast. How much time did she have left? Seconds?
 

Scrapping the get-away boat, she flopped into the cool sea and swam. Water went up her nose and down her throat as she flailed her arms and kicked. At least she was faster than the boat. She didn’t look back but kept at it. Pressure in her chest seemed to stab at her heart. She’d never thought about swimming lessons.

She wasn’t quite one hundred feet away when the boom echoed across the water, pounding against her head. Heat rushed past her. She ducked under water and swam until her lungs were about to burst. Finally, she surfaced and gulped in the air. She turned, bobbing in the water.

Giant flames shot up from the sailboat.

Twelve

The flames lit the sky on fire, rushing pillars of heat. Black smoke smothered what remained of the sailboat.

A bomb.

Meant for her.

Will. His implied threats swirled through her head. Marisa didn’t have time to think; she just swam. She pushed through water, away from the boat, away from the fire, away from her fears. After about ten yards, she stopped and doggy paddled, struggling to stay afloat.

She turned away from the sailboat, straining to hear oars splashing in the water. She peered through the smoky haze for any sign of Will. A small rowboat headed right toward her. It had to be Will, returning to make sure the job was finished.
 

That she was dead.

Frantically, she pushed through the water, heading back to the sailboat. She swam faster. Smoke burned the back of her throat. The heat from the flames warmed her face but her insides were cold as ice. Splinters of wood lay topside in the water. The mast. Parts of the sail. The hull.
 

A ruined ship.
 

The closer she got, the more wreckage floated by.
 

A piece of mast crashed into the water. She stifled a scream as the hell closed in on her. Never ending fire. The heat. She swam into the heart of it to hide.

Crashing pieces of the boat and shooting flames engulfed her. A sob rose from her chest and she fought to stay afloat. Tears mixed with water. Clumps of hair draped across her face.
 

The fire hissed and the wood cracked, each sound ricocheting in her chest, like a gunshot. Her brain screamed for her to escape, to start toward shore. She wanted to laugh as the irony of the sailboat in flames around her was exactly like her life. Everything had changed tonight.

She didn’t know if she could go back.

Out of the hissing and sputtering, she heard Will softly calling her name. Yes, the fire was a threat. But Will was the bigger threat. The boat drew closer. Marisa swam through the water as quiet as she could until she found a big chunk of the hull. She moved behind it, hiding, listening.

“Marisa!” Will’s voice was loud and clear. “Are you okay? Please answer me!”

Marisa doubted. He sounded like he cared. What if this was all in her head and he didn’t plant the bomb? Maybe his family had?

“I don’t know how this happened. I heard the blast and saw the flames from shore. I left right away. I don’t care about the damn boat. Where are you?” Silence. “Marisa?”
 

She peeked around the edge of the hull, tempted to call his name.

Will pointed a pistol at the water. The black gleamed in the firelight. Evil flickered on his face. He lowered his voice and didn’t sound nearly as scared. “Marisa?”

She held her breath and sank lower into the water.
 

“I’m sorry it had to be this way. But we’ve been looking for your family for decades. The only way to see if you knew about your history was to bring you on board.” He laughed. “And when you saved the poor little boy, it couldn’t have been chance. Even though you seemed clueless, you played your cover too well.”

He paused in his firelight confession. The flames were dying and off in the distance Marisa heard sirens. She had to escape. Will had to think her life had ended with the explosion.

“I’ll miss working together. You’ve turned into quite the little helper, but your time has expired. Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on your family. Goodbye, Marisa.” And then she heard nothing. The noise of the fire and burning wood hid the slap of his oars.

Rage welled up inside Marisa and let loose. She wanted to scream. Tell him to leave her family alone. She might have gone on to call him all sorts of nasty names except the last remaining part of the mast snapped off and hit her head on the way down.
 

Pain exploded and spots danced in front of her eyes. Blindly she moved forward. Everything blurred. She focused on the orange dingy, which had floated closer to the fire. She must reach it. Her movements seemed so slow, her army and legs heavy. Her head pounded.
 

Stroke by stroke she pushed toward her saving grace. Once there, she latched onto it with one arm and pulled herself up but she kept slipping.
 

“I’m sorry, Stephen.” Her voice shook.
 

Memories tugged at her heart. Like her life was flashing before her eyes before she departed from this world. The night Stephen almost proposed. He’d made his mom’s meatloaf, offered her a candlelit dinner, and took her dancing. But he didn’t ask her that night. He chickened out. It was the next week during a small fight. He’d shut her up with a kiss and whispered in her ear, “Marry me.”
 

But he’d be okay. It was Savvy. Her daughter. A girl can’t lose her mother at her age. Just couldn’t. She tried again. And just as darkness closed in around her, Marisa managed to flop into the boat.

The orange dingy floated aimlessly into the night. As the police pulled into the scene, clouds drifted past the moon, and they never caught sight of the life raft or the woman’s hand draped over the side. No body was ever found and the cause of the fire remained a mystery. In fact, the whole incident was quickly forgotten.

But Marisa drifted silently onward. The gentle rocking of the boat caused waves of pain to crash in her head. Her stomach revolted; and more than once, she puked. But she could not rouse herself to cry for help or paddle to shore. The night air sent goosebumps across her chilled body and she shivered uncontrollably.