Robert Walker - Grave Instinct

“ What about helicopters?” asked Jessica.

“ Sorry, they tell me that all our helicopters in this sector've been diverted to the coast until they know what's going to happen there. It's a category four, with several waterspouts. Already had a ship in the Gulf swamped by this thing, so they're expecting additional rescue efforts will be necessary.” It was getting stormy here, as well. When Jessica and Sorrento had made their way back up to the pilothouse, the wind had whistled down the length of the boat, swirling and eddying about them, threatening to send them overboard. The western horizon had been ablaze with beautiful colors at dusk, but now it'd become late, and darkness had suddenly come on with the storm front, clouds blotting out moon and stars.

Jessica drew an imaginary line on Quarels's Mississippi River map with her index finger the distance to Grand Isle. “How many hours?” she asked Quarels.

“ Three perhaps in good weather. Can't say in this.” He nodded to the black windows ahead of them.

They drank coffee under the light of the pilothouse and watched as a deluge of rain began pouring over them. The powerful winds made the ship shiver.

Jessica said, “He's facing worse weather if he is south of us. We have to make better time, and hope he's had to slow down.”

“ When we get into the center of the canal, we'll open her up,” Quarels promised. Then he invited them to look on at the sonar and radar screens. According to the equipment aboard, the cutter began a wide turn into a sharply cut canal, its banks like walls sketched in thin green lines. Jessica tried to imagine them by day.

Now they headed into deep backwater swamp. “I wonder how much your fugitive is relying on the weather,” Quarels said to them. “Normally, in a dry season, some of these canals might not be deep enough in sections. Lot of boaters get hung up on sandbars in them. But if he's been monitoring the weather… well, he's planned this thing out, that's certain.”

The canal took them west first through a back bay area that Captain Quarels had pinpointed on the map. He showed them how it would sharply turn again south. Jessica and Sorrento were studying the nautical map of the area when Jessica's phone rang.

She stepped away, taking the call. “Jess, it's me, John.”

“ What's is it, J.T.? Any good news? I could use some good news.”

“ Unfortunately, SquealsLoud has gone through with it, Jess. The Montoya woman was handed over to Kenyon, and the other madman filmed the entire thing. It's a horror movie beyond anything I've ever seen.”

“ And it's playing on Cahil's website?”

“ As we speak, and God knows where else. You can access it if you want to, but I'd leave it alone, Jess.”

She looked across at Sorrento and the captain. “He's already killed his captive. We're too late to help her.”

Sorrento wrapped his arms about himself and rocked. The captain took in a deep breath of air and bit his lower lip, shaking his head.

“ It's on the computer as a graphic film. The entire event, according to my partner in Quantico.”

“ Are you going to open it? Take a look at it?” asked Sorrento.

“ I hate giving the bastard the satisfaction, but we might draw some clues from it,” she replied angrily. She went to her laptop, opened it and logged on to the Internet. She found his E-mail waiting.

Sorrento stood beside her, placed an arm on her shoulder and said, “Steady yourself.”

“ I'd like to see what kind of a maniac we're chasing as well,” added Quarels.

Jessica opened the media E-mail, and the three of them watched the scene unfold in stark dread. From the wheel, First Mate Joe Konrath watched his controls but intermittently looked over his shoulder at the computer screen as well. When the bone cutting began, Jessica looked away. The men remained fixed on the sight, disbelieving it at the same time that they witnessed it.

“ My God in Heaven,” said Quarels.

“ Poor woman,” added Sorrento. “We've got to nail these two bastards.”

In all her years with the FBI, Jessica had never seen anyone actually executed before her eyes. She had never even gone to a federal or state prison to watch an execution. This murder brought about by Swantor was meant to shock, and it did.

“ If he reaches Grand Isle and finds his wife, he'll do the same to her,” Jessica projected. “We need to contact police there. Have someone get the ex-Mrs. Swantor out of there if she's on the island.”

She shut down Swantor's horror show. She then asked Sorrento to contact this man Potter at Grand Isle and attempt to get word that Swantor was on his way there, ending with, “And warn Mrs. Swantor to leave at once.”

Sorrento explained that the island was police free, but that it was serviced by a Sheriff Danby Potter, a one-man police force from a small town on the mainland, Lewistown. “Station house is the size of a phone booth. The isle gets mail service from Lewistown, too.”

“ Just summerhouses, recently developed land,” said Quarels.

Jessica said, “We've got to get the wife's phone number. Warn her he's coming for her.”

Sorrento got on his phone and contacted Lewistown police, reminding Sheriff Danby Potter of who he was and asking, “Is Mrs. Swantor on the island?”

“ She is… or was when I went out there yesterday, yes.”

“ We're chasing the Skull-digger, Sheriff.”

“ My Lord…” “And we fear Mr. Swantor is involved. I need the phone number to the house on Grand Isle.”

“ I always said that Jervis Swantor was some kind of puddinghead. I'll get that number for you.”

Sorrento heard Potter ferreting through paper for the number. “I got the number!” He read it off to Sorrento and quickly added, “I'm damn confused by you people. I checked out the place early this morning, a second time. Mrs. Swantor was there, so far as I could tell alone, no sign of that Dr. Swantor or his yacht. You asked me to ascertain his whereabouts, but the missus, she claims not to know or care so long as her check's on time.”

“ We believe he is on his way there now, Sheriff, and to say that she may be in danger is an understatement.”

“ So you fellas suspect Swantor's the Skull-digger now. I can't believe it, but you know, I can at the same time.”

“ Please, listen, Sheriff. It's a little more complicated than-”

“ I know what he looks like. Used to come into town for groceries and the hardware. Maybe I should go back out there to the island and sit with Mrs. Swantor till you-”

“ No, don't go out there alone, Potter. We think she has time to get out, and we're going to call her to warn her from here. We're on a Coast Guard cutter only a few hours away.”

After he hung up, Sorrento telephoned the number Potter had provided for the Swantor summer home, but only an answering machine responded. He left his name and number for Mrs. Lara Swantor to get back to him as soon as possible-a matter of life and death.

Jessica took Sorrento aside, saying, “Perhaps we ought to ask the sheriff to organize a few deputies and go out there to the house, cover Mrs. Swantor until we can get there.”

“ She's not answering her phone,” he replied. “Let me give it another shot.” Still no answer. “She must not be there.” “Or she may be unable to answer her phone.”

He nodded. “OK, I'll call the sheriff back.” He did so, only to get a recording stating that Potter was out and would return within an hour. The tape gave them another number in case of emergency.

“ Damn, I hope that old fool hasn't gone out there alone. He doesn't know what he's dealing with.”

“ Try the other number,” Jessica suggested.

Sorrento dialed this number, getting the sheriff on his cell phone, the sound of rain splattering a hard surface like static in Sorrento's ear. “Sheriff Potter, it's Agent Sorrento again. You're not to go out to the house alone. If you must go, do so with a team of men.”