CHAPTER 31 #2
Then we hear it. Thwup-thwup-thwup. Rotors. Lights appear in the sky. Searchlights. Two helicopters. Black. No markings. They swoop down on the burning wreckage of the boat. They circle it like vultures.
One of them fires a missile. WHOOSH-BOOM. The remains of the boat are vaporized. They aren't looking for survivors. They are scrubbing the site.
The searchlights sweep the water. The beam passes over the waves. It sweeps toward the buoy. I hold my breath. I bury my face in Alaric’s neck. The light hits the solar panel above us. It pauses. My heart stops. Then it moves on.
"Radar shadow," Alaric whispers into my hair. "We are invisible."
The helicopters circle for another ten minutes. Then, satisfied that nothing could survive the fire and the sea, they turn back toward Monaco. The sound of the rotors fades. We are alone in the dark.
"We can't stay here," Charon says, his voice shaking. "Exposure will kill us before dawn."
"We need a ship," Alaric says. He scans the horizon. "Look." He points north. A faint light. Steady. Green and Red. Navigation lights. "A freighter," Charon identifies. "Heading for Genoa."
"It’s passing close," Alaric estimates. "Maybe half a mile."
"We can't swim half a mile," I say. "Not in this state."
Alaric looks at the survival kit I strapped to my chest. "The flare gun," he says. "Did you bring it?"
"I have the SIG. I don't have a flare gun."
"I have a strobe," Charon says, tapping his life vest. "But if I use it, anyone can see it."
"The helicopters are gone," Alaric calculates. "The freighter is our only chance. If they see us, they are maritime law bound to rescue us. If they don't... we die here."
He looks at me. "Are you ready to roll the dice again, petite?"
"Always," I chatter.
"Light it," Alaric tells Charon.
Charon activates the strobe. It flashes intense white light. Flash. Flash. Flash. He waves it at the distant ship. We wait. The ship keeps moving. It’s huge, a dark wall blocking out the stars. It’s going to pass us.
"They don't see it," I whisper. "The bridge is too high."
"They need to hear us," Alaric says. He looks at my SIG. "Is it dry?"
I pull the plastic bag from my bra. I tear it open. The gun is dry. "Three rounds left," I say.
"Fire them," Alaric commands. "Spacing. Three seconds apart. The universal distress signal."
I raise the gun. I aim at the sky. Bang. Wait. One. Two. Three. Bang. Wait. One. Two. Three. Bang.
The sound is swallowed by the wind. But the muzzle flash is bright in the darkness.
We watch the ship. Nothing happens. It keeps moving. "No," I whisper. "Please."
Then... A spotlight on the ship’s bridge turns. A beam of light cuts through the darkness. It sweeps the water. It finds the buoy. It blinds us.
A horn blasts. Deep. Resonant. HOOOOOOOOONK.
"They saw us!" Charon yells.
The ship begins to slow. It’s a massive container vessel. The name on the hull is illuminated: THE ATLAS.
"Atlas," Alaric murmurs, pulling me to my feet. "Appropriate. He carries the weight of the world."
[ONE HOUR LATER]
We are on the deck of The Atlas. The crew—Filipino sailors who look at us with a mixture of pity and suspicion—have given us blankets and hot tea.
We are sitting in the crew mess hall. The Captain enters.
He is a large man with a grey beard. "You are lucky," he says in broken English. "The water is freezing."
"Our engine exploded," Alaric lies smoothly. "We were out for a night cruise."
The Captain looks at our clothes. The torn tuxedo trousers. The lingerie under the blankets. The holster Charon didn't hide well enough. He knows we are lying. But maritime law is maritime law.
"We are bound for Genoa," the Captain says. "We dock in six hours. I have to report this to the authorities."
"That won't be necessary," Alaric says. He reaches into the waterproof pouch Charon saved. He pulls out a stack of wet euros. "My wife... she is embarrassed. A scandal would be... problematic."
The Captain looks at the money. "Problematic," he agrees, taking the stack. "Perhaps the radio is broken until we dock."
"Perhaps," Alaric nods.
The Captain leaves. We are alone in the mess hall. The vibration of the massive diesel engines hums through the floor.
Alaric leans back against the metal bulkhead. He looks exhausted, pale, and battered. But he is smiling. He reaches out and takes my hand under the table. "We made it," he whispers. "Phase One complete."
"Phase One?" I ask, leaning my head on his shoulder. "I thought killing my father was the Finale."
"Killing him was the Coda of the old life," Alaric says. "Now... we have to build the new one."
He looks at the USB drive sitting on the table between us. "Two hundred million dollars. A dead Senator. A dead Chairman. We are the most dangerous people in Europe right now."
"So what do we do in Genoa?"
"We disappear," Alaric says. "For real this time. We find a place where the signal can't reach. A place to heal."
"And then?"
"And then," Alaric says, his eyes darkening, "we decide if we want to buy the world... or burn the rest of it down."
I look at the drive. I look at the gun sitting in my pile of wet clothes. I look at the man who turned me into a weapon.
"I don't want to buy the world," I say softly. "I just want a piano."
Alaric laughs. He kisses my salt-crusted forehead. "Then you shall have a piano, my Muse. Even if I have to build it from the bones of our enemies."
The ship carries us into the night. Toward Italy. Toward the dawn. But the darkness... the darkness travels with us. It is part of us now. And I wouldn't have it any other way.