Chapter Thirty-Two #2
Nikki scanned the horizon, spotting two cargo ships and a handful of sailboats.
Then, in the distance, the white shape of the enormous yacht came into view.
They approached, and she saw that something was wrong.
The boat wasn’t sailing—but it wasn’t anchored either.
It drifted, rocking with the waves. Sunlight gleamed off the surface and, from the top deck, she saw thin tendrils of smoke.
Their hails went unanswered.
Vincente radioed the Guardia Costiera for help.
“I’ll see if anyone’s gone in the water,” Nikki said, bolting from her seat.
Outside, it stank of burning plastic and hot metal.
—
The Fidelis made the final turn, around the stern of The Prophet, where a metal ladder dangled from the aft deck into the water. Fiona Lake was clinging to this. She wore a thin dress and orange life vest. She waved frantically, screaming for help.
Nikki shouted, “Jump! Swim here!” but Fiona stayed where she was, tightly clasping the ladder.
Di Pavola saw the problem and pulled his yacht nearer—but they were still a hundred meters out, and it wasn’t safe to get closer. The Fidelis was large, not a rescue craft, and The Prophet was unmoored, bobbing on the waves.
“That’s it,” he told Nikki. “She needs to swim to us, or wait for the Guardia Costiera.”
But the flames in the topmost deck of The Prophet were reaching higher, the stink of smoke thick in the air. By the time the Guardia Costiera arrived, it might be too late.
Nikki’s mind sought out the little girl waiting to be rescued. She couldn’t afford to wait.
—
Nikki took off her bag and heavy leather jacket, and the chill wind cut through her shirt. She crouched and unlaced her boots.
“What are you doing?” demanded Vincente.
“There are people on board,” she said. “There’s a little girl.”
“Wait for the professionals,” he protested.
She met his gaze.
“There’s nobody else. It’s just us.”
—
The cold water was bracing, the salt stinging cuts she hadn’t realized were on her hands and face. Pain was good, she told herself. Pain kept her alert.
The sounds of the fire intensified as she swam closer to the yacht.
At last, she arrived at the ladder. Gripping the lowest rung, she called up to Fiona: “Come down!”
Sobbing, Fiona lowered herself into the water beside Nikki.
“My baby,” she screamed. “My baby is in there. You have to save her.”
“Audrey’s inside?” Nikki confirmed.
Fiona nodded, teeth chattering. “Yes. Yes. With Jayston.”
A wave slammed into them, washing over their heads.
“Where do I go?” Nikki shouted.
“The main salon.”
—
Clambering up the ladder, Nikki pulled herself onto the aft deck, opened the hatch, and stepped inside.
The roar of the fire and the sounds of the waves were immediately silenced as she pulled the heavy door shut behind her.
Inside, the air was fresh and cool. It chilled her wet skin and gave no indication that, several decks above, fire was consuming the yacht.
She didn’t know how quickly the flames would travel, but she’d seen Errichiello’s house burn, and knew that The Prophet would soon become an inferno.
—
At the end of the long passageway, she stopped at a closed door, and placed a hand on it, checking the temperature.
—
Inside was a carpeted lounge with heavy leather furniture, the only sound the peaceful whir of the ventilation system. The ship’s captain, Henry, lay on the floor. His face was bruised. Blood trailed from a head wound.
Nikki raced to his side, and checked for a pulse. He was alive, but his breathing was shallow. She squeezed his shoulder, shook him.
“Captain,” she said. Then again, louder. He didn’t wake. She needed to leave him for now—and return when she could.
—
Nikki crossed through the next compartment, and the next, and climbed a set of ladders. The temperature rose, and the acrid stink of smoke. She was shaking, body screaming at her to leave.
At last, she arrived at the main salon and the smell of the fire intensified, the air thickening. Nikki’s throat was tight and raw. But the flames hadn’t reached this compartment yet.
She coughed and shouted for Audrey. No response.
—
Jayston Lake was sitting on the sofa with his back to her.
“Mr. Lake,” she shouted. “Are you injured?”
She circled the room, coming around to face him.
Audrey sat next to her father, his arm around her as if they were tucked in for an evening of television. Her eyes were closed, and her cheeks flushed an unnatural pink.
“The yacht’s burning,” Nikki choked out. “We need to abandon ship.”
Jayston seemed unsurprised to see her. His rugged, handsome face was slack.
Nikki took in his split lip, bruised cheek, and bloodied knuckles. Then she saw the black handgun. He aimed it at her.
“Leave,” he ordered.
“Not without Audrey,” she said. Her heart raced, body rigid with fear. She stared at the little girl, searching for breath. “Is she…?”
She couldn’t finish the question.
“Asleep.” He kissed the top of Audrey’s head. “I’ll make it quick. She won’t feel a thing.”
The tension and fatigue in Nikki’s body erupted into fury.
“I can see why you have a death wish, but don’t take her with you!”
His expression darkened.
“Don’t pretend you know anything about me,” he growled.
“I know you killed Claire Sexton,” she said. “And I know you killed Signora Dorotea.”
“What makes you say that?”
“They never found Claire’s rucksack,” Nikki said. “But I saw it with the fortune teller: a keychain with Audrey’s allergy tag.”
The small silver charm on Dorotea’s large canvas sack. Nikki had assumed it was just another trinket. But it had the symbol of a medical caduceus—entwined snakes. She’d seen the same image at the hospital.
“Claire was going to meet you that night,” Nikki continued. “She worried you would take her bag—so she hid it, or gave it to the fortune teller for safekeeping. That’s how you found Signora Dorotea: You’d put an air tracker in Claire’s bag. Like the one you used to track Audrey.”
“Claire was a sweet kid.” He sighed. “I thought I could…get her to see reason.”
“She was blackmailing you.”
“It wasn’t her fault,” he said. “Her brother put her up to it—wanted me to fund his bloody app!”
He set down the gun and grabbed a tumbler of whisky, and took a sip, before picking up the weapon again.
“You could have invested,” Nikki said. “You have the money.”
He gave a coughing laugh. “Smoke and mirrors! I lost a fortune after Matthew died. Needed time to recover. The good Henry Antonov had…other avenues.”
“You used your investment firm to launder money,” Nikki realized.
“The firm was legitimate. Once.”
“But why kill Claire?”
“I had no choice!” he exploded, words thick with fury and guilt. “Had I refused, they’d have killed her all the same—Fiona and Audrey, as well.”
“Why not go to the police?”
“Have you ever had a benefactor like mine? Someone to clear the path for you?”
“No,” Nikki said, thinking grimly of Tito.
“Whenever we encountered a…complication: a regulator…a policeman making inquiries—my benefactor would see to it.”
“Did you ever meet this benefactor?” Nikki pressed. “Do you know who he is?”
He shook his head, no. The lights flickered. Smoke curled in along the crown molding.
“Henry oversaw that aspect of the business. Foolish of him to leave his computer unattended. Claire copied his files.”
“But Henry didn’t kill her,” Nikki said. “You did.”
Her face burned, eyes streaming with the smoke.
He shuddered. “Henry’s a violent man. If I hadn’t done it, Claire would have suffered.”
The temperature had been rising as they spoke, and now water on Nikki’s clothing was beginning to steam.
“We have to get out of here,” she urged.
“It’s no longer my business.” His words filled with despair and rage. “I own nothing. Not even my own soul.”
An eerie moan of straining metal filled the room.
Next to him, Audrey coughed. He gazed at her, and the fury in his expression softened into pain.
Nikki stepped closer.
“You love Audrey,” she said. “That’s why you worry about her…. Love protects! That’s what it does. It protects!”
“I can’t protect her anymore.” His voice broke.
Behind them, on the liquor shelf, a bottle burst, an explosion of glass and liquid. Then another one. Shards of glass struck the wall. A sudden incursion of smoke roiled along the ceiling.
Terror surged through Nikki, and she reached out as if she meant to lift the sleeping girl.
“Let me protect her!” she begged. “You asked me to look after Audrey. My answer is: yes. Yes! I’ll protect her. Please! Help me save her.”
He examined her a long moment. Then, wordlessly, he set down the gun and stood, lifting the sleeping Audrey in his arms. Her head lolled against his shoulder, eyes fluttering open. He kissed her cheek and murmured something in her ear, then strode from the room.
Nikki followed Lake through the door. Behind them, glass shattered, heat surged. They ran blindly down a smoke-choked passageway, the rumble and heat chasing them.
At the end of the corridor, they reached a hatch.
Lake set Audrey down on her feet. She wobbled unsteadily and reached for him. He kissed her, then handed her off to Nikki, who clutched the somnolent child beneath the arms.
Jayston opened the door.
They were met with the thunderous roar of the fire raging above, and the crash of waves.
They emerged onto a small deck, and a railing overlooking the sea below. A blast of wind in their faces, as the heat and flames sucked in the oxygen.
“Go!” he shouted.
Nikki lunged forward, propping Audrey up. She felt Jayston’s hands helping them up and over the rail, before the heat and rush of an explosion burst out the way they’d come.