Chapter 8 #2
Austen had gone back to sitting with her back to the wall, her legs up.
She was watching the two of them, frowning.
And then, “I agree with her, Stein,” Austen said.
“I’m nobody. They’re going to run information on me and find out that I’m just a tourist in the wrong place at the wrong time.
You, however, are a different story.” She put her legs down and leaned forward.
“I know you’re not active duty anymore, but you still have the SEAL history.
” She shook her head, looked at Emberly.
“You guys get out of here the first chance you get.”
Emberly could nearly see the war inside Steinbeck, fighting between reality and responsibility.
She didn’t need his help to escape this boat, thank you. She was very capable of breaking out of custody and going over the side into the harbor and disappearing in the murky depths. But if she was honest, she’d prefer to do it with him, although she couldn’t put her finger on why.
“Listen,” she said, “I’m not saying we leave Austen and Declan behind.
” Although if she’d had her way, she would have left Declan on the yacht with the Russians.
She didn’t buy for one hot second his explanation about how he got into this mess.
But that was a chatty chat for another day, once they disentangled themselves from Cuban custody.
“If we’re free, we can figure out how to help them better than if we’re stuck in a cell with them. Or worse.”
She met Stein’s eyes. So blue. They fixed on her, and for a second she was back in the water, searching for him right after he’d blown up his Jet Ski.
She hadn’t been sure where he’d gone, but she knew he was swimming hard for the stern of the boat, where they’d parked the tender.
So it wasn’t too hard to skim along the water in the glow of the ship and spot him.
She’d scooted around him, pulled up beside him, and he’d grabbed her hand.
She’d wanted to say something quippy like, “Miss me?” But he was winded, and the first question out of his mouth was, “Did they get the tender?” So maybe there was no time for quips.
And then of course, a few minutes later, she’d ditched him. Which again was simply panic. She just couldn’t imagine stepping inside the boat and chaining herself to the ragtag misfits who seemed to be going from tragedy to tragedy.
Except she was making this up as she went along too, so here she was, stuck in a smelly, humid sweatbox on her way to an iffy conversation with immigration police, who would pull her up on the screen and find too many different aliases.
Or none at all. Either of which would probably land her in the dark cell next to Steinbeck’s in the middle of communist Cuba.
So, c’mon, pal—catch up and play along.
Maybe he read her mind. “Right,” Steinbeck said. “What are you thinking?”
“This doesn’t have to be hard. These fishermen aren’t equipped to take us into custody, so unless they dock and invite the immigration officials on board, we’re over the side. But”—she glanced at Austen—“we can’t take her with us.”
“I’m not going with you,” Austen said. “Get off this ship any way you can.” She looked at Steinbeck. “And don’t die.” Then she flashed a smile at him. “My guess is that Declan is going to untangle this situation quickly and we’ll be on our way in no time.”
Emberly couldn’t help it. “Seriously? That’s what you think?
Declan is up there right now making some deal with them.
Probably agreeing to hand over some technological secrets in order to get you released.
He’s not the good guy you think he is. I don’t care what he says—he is diabolical and on the wrong side here.
Don’t let his good looks and charm deceive you. ”
Austen’s mouth opened, and she glanced at Steinbeck, then back.
“Excuse me if I misunderstood, but you’re the very last person I’m going to listen to.
One minute you’re saving Stein’s life, the next you’re leaving us in the ocean.
I don’t know you—but I do know Declan. And I don’t care what Steinbeck says about him, he is a good guy. Did you not hear his explanation?”
Emberly didn’t know why Austen’s words pinched—she’d been accused of worse.
By Steinbeck himself. But, “I heard his lies, yes. And I know him a lot better than you think I do. I’ve been tracking him since January, looking into his background.
I know what he likes for breakfast.” She leaned in, lowered her voice. “I know his trail of dead bodies.”
Austen’s voice pitched low. “His trail of what?”
“Yeah. He killed an unarmed man in Afghanistan, was even charged with a crime, but he somehow bought his way out of it.”
Austen folded her arms. “He told me about that. Friendly fire.”
“That was the ‘official finding,’” Emberly said, finger quoting her words.
“But what they didn’t tell you was that Samiullah Rahimi was involved in an information-smuggling operation, delivering secret satellite images of artillery and troop positions from Afghanistan to Russia.
When he went down, a guy named Dark Horse took over. ”
Steinbeck glanced at her. “I heard about that. There was a man embedded in Afghanistan who knew Russian and Pashto and smuggled the information through channels to the Russian military. They never caught him.” He frowned. “Are you saying that was Declan ?”
“His mother was Russian. He’s fluent.” Emberly turned to Austen. “He didn’t mention that, did he?” She got off her bunk. “Don’t believe all his good deeds.”
Silence. Emberly shook her head. “I’m going to say it again. Don’t be deceived by his good looks or his money, honey. Rich men only have room for one thing in their heart. Themselves.”
Austen’s mouth tightened, and Steinbeck looked away.
Well, Emberly hated to be the bearer of bad news, but the fact was that Declan was right about one thing.
God didn’t show up for people like him.
They’d come into port, the city of Havana rising in the window.
A mix of old and new, with burnt-yellow Spanish-style buildings and the rotunda of the capital rising in the distance, surrounded by newer high-rises with mirrored windows glinting in the sun.
Red-roofed tile buildings, towering pine trees blowing in the breeze, and even a stone-walled fortress that overlooked the water.
A medley of communism, cubism, and conquistadors.
The latch screeched as the door opened again.
Emberly got up. “I’m going with or without you, Steinbeck.” Then she walked out of the room into the corridor of the ship. Another crewman stood there. They did not look armed, just serious as they led the three up the stairs and onto the deck.
Declan stood with the captain and shook his hand as they walked up. Yeah, he’d probably sold her out in exchange for his freedom.
“All sorted,” Declan said. “We’re just going to pop into immigration. Then I’ll give the US embassy a call and we’ll be on the first flight out of here.”
Sure they would. Emberly didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him, and truthfully, he was a big man.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Steinbeck glance at her, his mouth a tight line. Then he looked past her, toward the portside railing.
The boat was still a good fifty yards from the dock. A handful of other fishing vessels were tied up to two piers that jutted out into the bay. An adjacent harbor held larger cargo ships and cranes and acted as the official shipping port.
Which meant that it wouldn’t be too hard for her to go overboard and lose herself among the clutter of fishing trawlers and other dockside debris.
She hung back as Austen walked up to Declan. “How’d you do that?”
He frowned at her, then raised his shoulder. “I explained to them that we are just a few travelers lost at sea.” And then he smiled.
The smile of a shark. Emberly wasn’t waiting around any longer.
She took off, running hard for the side of the ship.
“Stop!”
Oof. A body tackled her and she crashed on the deck. She rolled and pushed away from whoever had tackled her. One of the crew. She kicked, landed on his jaw, and he fell back.
She launched to her feet. Steinbeck had taken off after her and now grabbed up the man and flung him away.
Then, “Go, go!”
Okay, so he was in. She headed for the rail and climbed up. The drop looked to be about twenty feet, so not lethal.
There was shouting behind her, and Steinbeck appeared beside her.
“Aw,” he said, “this is a bad idea.”
“I know.” Then she looked at him, grinned, and jumped.
* * *
Austen stood frozen next to Declan as Steinbeck leaped off the railing and vanished over the side of the boat.
She glanced at Declan and back to the space where Steinbeck had been. Don’t panic. He knew what he was doing.
Declan grabbed her hand. Maybe to keep her from running, but her words to him earlier swelled through to her.
“I can guarantee you that God does rescue us. Not always in the way that we want, but definitely according to His great plan for us.”
She dearly hoped God had a great plan in all of this.
“Don’t worry,” the captain said, now in English. “The harbor patrol will find them.”
She glanced at the man. Dark hair, dark eyes, burly, grizzle on his chin—salty, seasoned—and with a couple teeth missing as he smiled at her.
It felt a bit like being smiled at by a crocodile.
Oh, c’mon, she wasn’t in any real danger. They’d done nothing wrong, and besides, she wanted to believe Declan. In fact, every cell of her body wanted to repel Phoenix’s words about him.
“Don’t believe all his good deeds.”
She didn’t know what to believe. Still, she let go of his hand. He looked at her and frowned.
“You’ll see,” he said quietly.
She nodded, because what was she going to do? Throw herself off the boat? She wasn’t a Navy SEAL. And she wasn’t... well, whatever Phoenix was. And sure, Austen could swim, but diesel fuel and other pollutants saturated the water, and besides, she’d done nothing wrong.