From an unknown sender, p.24
From an Unknown Sender, page 24
Strong hands grasped her waist. “Hang on. I’ve got you!”
Beneath the yacht, the water churned. Lars tugged her arm free of the railing and dragged her onto the deck. Tumbling into him, she pushed herself into a sitting position. The motorboat’s surge increased, and the yacht listed wildly. Marit clung to a nearby rope, staring at the incoming silver motorboat with her heart in her throat.
“That’s it, Lars,” she cried. “See the name on the hull?”
Lars read the bold cursive lettering and whipped his phone from his pocket. “I’m calling Cole.”
The motorboat throttled down, and a dark-haired man appeared on deck, preparing to toss a rope ashore. Was he the man behind the drug running and the recent deaths? Marit’s stomach churned.
Beside her, Lars spoke into his phone. “The Nehalennia just arrived.”
She moved closer, hoping to catch Cole’s response, but the breeze stole it from her. Lars nodded, his expression grave.
“Will do,” he said. Then he disconnected the call. “Grab your stuff. We’re leaving.”
“What about the photo shoot?”
In two swift steps, he crossed to the tripod and began unscrewing his camera. “Pretty sure it’s over for the day.”
“But—”
“Hurry, Marit. Cole and Isabelle figured out the rest of the code. It was a date and time.” He pulled his camera case out from under one of the yacht’s bench seats and started loading his equipment. “Something’s going down in the next five minutes, and Cole’s racing to get here. If the guys on the Nehalennia are who we think they are, it’s going to get nasty. He wants us out of here.”
“What about Stella, Sylvie, and the others?”
“We’ll warn them if we see them, but I don’t think they’ll be getting back on the boat if Cole arrives before them.”
A shout reached them from beyond the nearby yacht. Someone cut the silver motorboat’s engine, and in the abrupt, ensuing silence, a car door slammed. Was it Cole and Isabelle? Or someone they didn’t want to meet?
Marit reached the cabin door and yanked it open. Twenty seconds to grab her bag. Another twenty seconds to disembark the yacht. If they moved fast enough, they could be off the dock in under a minute.
Chapter 36
Isabelle planted a hand on the dashboard as Cole took a turn a little too fast. Only another minute, maybe two, before they reached the docks. She checked the clock on the dashboard. Eleven fifty-seven. They might just make it in time.
“I can’t believe Lars and Marit are in the middle of something like this again,” Cole said, his voice tense.
“Don’t worry. No one involved with Sahil knows what Marit and Lars look like.”
“Jeroen saw Marit the night he came after you two outside Lars’s place.”
“Jeroen is dead, and he was alone that night.”
Cole blew out a breath. “I just hate that my work has put my family in the danger zone again.”
The familiar guilt surged, and a tremor worked through her despite the warm air blasting from the heater. “It’s my fault this happened. I never should have—”
“Stop right there.” Cole gave her a quick glance before focusing on the road again. “You were doing your job. You made the best call you could think of when you were faced with an issue.”
“And I knowingly involved civilians—your family.”
“It’s not much different from when I asked Lars to look at those diamonds last November,” Cole said. “I could have secured them in the embassy instead, but I followed my instincts. It all turned out okay.”
And now they needed to make sure today had a similarly happy ending. Ideally, without anyone ending up in the hospital, the morgue, or before an administrative review board.
Cole made the last turn toward the dock and slowed just enough to keep the tires from squealing. Isabelle pressed her hand harder against the dash to keep her body in place.
Ahead of them, the road was lined with cars parked bumper to bumper. Bicycles were chained to every available piece of fencing, and in the marina car park, not a single parking space was in sight.
“Drop me off up there.” Isabelle pointed at the dock entrance. “I’ll keep an eye out while you find a parking place.”
Cole shook his head. “I don’t want you going in there alone.”
“Then I’ll drop you off,” Isabelle said. He was more experienced in fieldwork than she, and her ability to squeeze a car into the tiniest of spaces was a talent she possessed in spades.
A short distance ahead, a delivery van had double parked, its hazard lights flashing.
“If that guy can double park, so can I.” Cole pulled up beside a BMW sedan and parked beside it. He turned off the engine and flipped on the hazard lights.
“You’re going to get towed,” Isabelle said.
“Don’t care.” Cole jumped out.
“Give me the key, and I’ll go park.” A short distance away, Isabelle spotted a car pulling out of the car park. “There’s a spot up there.”
Cole tossed her the key, and Isabelle quickly moved the car out of the tow-away zone. She caught up to Cole at the entrance to Dock 1.
“There’s Lars and Marit.” Cole nodded toward the water.
Isabelle scanned the narrow wooden walkway that separated the boats from one another. Lars stepped off a yacht six spaces down and reached out a hand to Marit. “How do I explain why I’m staying?” Isabelle asked.
“I don’t know.” Cole shrugged. “Make something up.”
“Not helpful.” Isabelle stepped onto the sidewalk, but she stopped when she caught a glimpse of movement on the dock fifty yards from where she currently stood. Four men, two of them carrying large satchels, emerged from the scattered trees that lined the sidewalk and moved toward the boats moored on the nearby dock. The man in the center slowed and looked around. Isabelle narrowed her eyes as recognition dawned. She gasped. “That’s Sahil!”
The man behind the smuggling operation, potentially the man who had killed one of his own employees in cold blood, was heading straight for Lars and Marit.
Isabelle started forward, but Cole grabbed her arm to stop her.
“Wait until Lars and Marit clear the dock,” Cole said. “We’ll follow as soon as they’re safe.”
Isabelle remained where she was at the edge of the dock entrance. Marit stopped when she reached the dock, and she shifted the oversized bag on her shoulder. A man on a speedboat two spots away stepped onto the dock. Sahil and his two companions reached the water’s edge.
The man leading the way to the dock pointed at Marit as though he recognized her. Isabelle’s mind raced. How could he know Marit? Only Jeroen had seen any of them. Surely he wouldn’t have been able to describe Marit sufficiently for these men to recognize her, and he hadn’t taken any photos of Marit that night.
Photos. Marit was a model. Her photos were everywhere.
“Oh no.” Isabelle drew her weapon and held it by her side. “He knows who Marit is.”
“Or he knows she was the one with you at Lars’s house.” Cole lifted his pistol and aimed at the men. “Hold it right there!” He shouted the words first in English and then in German.
The man to Sahil’s right turned, his hand going to his belt in a practiced move. The gun in his hand came into view only a split second before Cole fired.
Marit screamed, satchels dropped to the ground, and the three remaining men at the dock entrance dove for cover.
***
“Get down!” Lars grabbed Marit’s arm, dropping to his stomach on the dock as three of the four men who’d been approaching them scattered.
Marit flattened herself beside him. “It’s Cole and Isabelle.”
“Yeah. I see them.”
Cole and Isabelle had taken positions behind the bow of an old fishing boat and a lamppost respectively. Neither object offered a great deal of cover, but it was something. And it was considerably better than what he and Marit were working with. Raising his head slightly, Lars scoured the dock. The wooden walkway offered no cover whatsoever. If he and Marit stayed here, they’d be ready targets. Especially if Sahil decided to take hostages.
His gaze moved to the thin line of bushes that separated the dock from the car park. He caught movement seconds before a white shirt sleeve appeared between the branches.
“Gun!” Lars yelled.
Cole disappeared from view as another shot rang out. Isabelle returned fire, and two men bolted from between the bushes, heading for the pylons a few meters to the left.
“The one on the dock isn’t moving,” Marit said.
Dead or immobile. It was impossible to tell from here.
“Can you see his gun?”
“No.”
A large satchel lay beside the man, blocking their view of his right hand. It was possible he’d dropped the gun when he’d gone down, but it was equally likely he still held it.
“What about the other guy?”
“He’s taking cover behind the red boat,” Marit said.
Lars turned his head. The red boat was four berths down from them but only three berths away from the smaller craft Cole was using as a shield. One gunman on the right, two on the left. The guy on the dock was a wild card, but it would be only a matter of time before reinforcements arrived from the silver speedboat. No matter how they looked at it, Cole and Isabelle were outnumbered.
“We’ve got to do something,” Marit said. “Cole and Isabelle need some kind of distraction.”
Another shout reached them. This time from the direction of the silver motorboat. Heavy footsteps pounded along the wooden dock. Two more men, each heavily armed, headed their way.
“Looks like we’ve got a distraction,” Lars muttered. “But not the kind we want.”
Three against two had been poor odds. Five against two was excessive. And he and Marit were caught right in the middle.
“Take this,” Lars said, sliding his camera case toward Marit.
She grasped the strap and pulled it closer. “What are you going to do?”
“Even the playing field.”
The men from the boat had almost reached the neighboring white yacht. Lars gauged the distance between the two yachts—two meters. Three at the most. It would be tight, but it was enough. As long as he timed his move just right.
More shots rang out behind him. Lars kept his eyes on the newcomers. The taller one was outrunning the other. Staying low, Lars drew his legs up beneath him as though at the starting blocks of a race. The first man ran past without sparing them a glance. Taking care of bystanders was obviously not a priority when compared to two active shooters.
Seconds later, the other man cleared the neighboring yacht, his gun arm raised. Lars didn’t hesitate. Pressing his feet to the dock, he bolted upright. The shorter man swerved but couldn’t check his momentum in time. Lars barreled into him. With a grunt, the gunman staggered backward, his arms flailing as he approached the edge of the dock. Lars backed up, but the gunman could not reclaim his balance in time. His right foot stepped off the final plank, and he disappeared from sight, his shout lost in the splash as he hit the water between the two boats.
Lars didn’t wait. Pivoting, he raced back to Marit, grabbed her hand, and pulled. She stumbled to her feet. He snatched the camera case and tossed the strap over his shoulder. “The red speedboat,” he said. “It will be easier to get into than these big yachts.”
With her hand in his, Marit ran, matching him stride for stride as they raced to the small boat partially hidden beyond the white yacht. Behind them, another shot was followed by a man’s cry. Lars forced himself to keep his eyes forward. It couldn’t be Cole. It couldn’t be.
Barely pausing long enough to take a breath, he leaped from the dock onto the speedboat’s bow.
“Jump!” he yelled, extending his arm to Marit.
She reached for his hand and leaped, landing right beside him. His foot slipped, his ankle hitting the metal cleat where the line attaching the boat to its mooring was fixed. Pain shot up his leg. Releasing his breath in a hiss, he stepped off the bow and into the boat. The dock vibrated with running footsteps getting nearer.
He reached for Marit, drawing her into the open well. “Quick,” he urged. “Get under the navigation console.”
Chapter 37
Cole peeked out from behind the bow of the old fishing boat. Lars and Marit had disappeared from sight, as had one of the two men who had been running toward them down the dock.
Sahil and the man who had been carrying one of the satchels had taken cover behind some wooden pylons. The other man still standing had both a pylon and his fallen colleague to shield him.
Footsteps pounded against the wooden dock as a tall, lanky man sprinted toward Cole. At first, Cole thought the idiot was trying to get away and was running right into the gunfight. Then the man lifted his hand, which was gripping a pistol.
He was an idiot, all right. Just not the kind Cole expected.
The man took aim at Isabelle. Unwilling to gamble on whether the lamppost would protect her, Cole raised his weapon and fired.
The man stumbled two steps and then dropped onto the wooden dock.
Sahil yelled something in a language Cole didn’t understand. Then suddenly, Sahil and the man with him both started shooting.
Isabelle dropped to the ground. Cole ducked back behind the fishing boat.
More gunshots followed by rapid footsteps. Cole peeked out long enough to spot the man carrying the satchel grab the other bag that had fallen.
Cole stretched out his arm and took aim, but before he could shoot, Sahil fired. The bullet sparked off the metal trim on the edge of the fishing boat, and Cole ducked back down.
“Over here!” an unfamiliar male voice yelled in English.
A boat motor turned over. Judging from the distance, it came from where Lars had been only moments ago. Either Lars and Marit were trying to get away, or someone was still on the Nehalennia and was preparing to leave.
The rhythm of the steady lap of water against wood changed, and Cole looked out again. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Isabelle now on board the boat next to him, a low rowboat. She lifted her weapon again and fired at the man now carrying the two satchels. She fired twice, both bullets impacting the side of one of the leather cases. White powder spilled onto the dock.
Sahil returned fire, and Isabelle ducked back down.
Cole sent off a shot of his own to give Isabelle protection.
“Hurry up!” a man called out.
Moving as one, the three men on the dock sprinted away from Cole and Isabelle. Sahil and the other man, who still had his hands free, squeezed off shots in rapid succession, preventing Isabelle and Cole from stopping them or returning fire.
Then the footsteps stopped.
Not ready to give up on apprehending Sahil, Cole rolled around the edge of the fishing boat as two of the men disappeared out of view behind a large white yacht.
Cole fired at the third man, the one handing the leather cases to whoever was on board the boat that was obstructed from Cole’s view.
The man threw the last case to the other person and turned as he grabbed his gun. He lifted it as Cole and Isabelle pulled their triggers in unison.
The man tumbled backward and splashed into the water.
The vibration of the boat motor changed, and suddenly, the line of boats listed from the wake of the departing vessel.
Cole and Isabelle both abandoned their hiding places. Isabelle stopped long enough to check the man sprawled on the deck for a pulse. Cole kept going.
He couldn’t let Sahil get away. And where were Lars and Marit?
Cole reached the now-empty slip beyond the white yacht and the small speedboat, the sleek motorboat with Nehalennia scrawled in black across its stern departing at full speed.
“Lars?” Cole called out.
“Down here!” Lars popped up from beneath the navigation console in the speedboat next to where the Nehalennia had been docked.
Cole jumped onto the boat as Marit straightened and came into view.
She looked around, her concern obvious. “Where’s Isabelle? Is she okay?”
“Yes.” Thank goodness. Cole dropped down beside Marit and checked the ignition for a key. It would have been too easy had one been waiting for him. Resolved to start the boat the hard way, he pulled the control panel off to reveal the ignition system.
“What are you doing?” Lars asked.
“Starting the boat.” Cole nodded toward the dock. “You two get off. Do me a favor; cast off the lines. And call the police while you’re at it. Tell them there are drug dealers on the Nehalennia. Make sure the police know they’re armed.”
“What about you?” Marit asked.
“I’m going after them.”
“Then I’m coming too,” Lars said.
Cole paused long enough to glance at his cousin. “Are you crazy? In case you didn’t notice, those guys are trigger happy.”
“Yeah, but you don’t know your way around. I do.” Lars took Marit’s hand. “As soon as you’re on the dock, call the police.”
“Lars, you should come with me.”
“I’ll be careful.”
Though she clearly wasn’t happy with the situation, Marit cautiously moved to the side of the boat and then stepped onto the dock. Quickly, she leaned down and untied the lines holding the boat in place, then tossed them onboard.
Isabelle appeared beside Marit at the same time Cole bypassed the starter and the engine roared to life.
She started to step aboard as a man appeared from behind her. His clothes were dripping wet, and he held a gun in his hand.
