Matt Hilton - Dead Men's Harvest

Walter was right. My priority was to get Jennifer away from Cain and if Cain escaped while I was otherwise engaged then that’s the way it would be. I’d prefer to kill the son of a bitch myself, but if Hartlaub got to him first then I could live with that. My only regret was that I’d sent Harvey away. I’d rather it was him or Rink accompanying me. Still, I recalled when I first met Hartlaub and had judged him as a warrior to be admired. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad with him watching my back.

I offered him my hand. ‘Nothing personal, mate.’

He unfolded his arms, stuck out his hand and we shook. ‘I know.’

‘Thanks for saving Imogen, as well. I owe you one.’

Hartlaub shrugged. ‘I was just the driver. Brigham did all the wet work.’

Walter had transferred the cigar to his fingers. ‘Are you two all made up now, because we’ve more important things to be getting on with?’

‘We’re good,’ I confirmed.

He returned to his seat and the plastic crackled as he sat. He frowned at the other furniture in the room, likely thinking he’d have to replace everything. However clean it appeared on the surface it was still drenched with the blood of his murdered friend. Personally I’d have dumped it all in a huge pile outside and set it on fire. No, scratch that. I’d have torched the building.

Walter stuffed his cigar between his teeth, speaking out of the corner of his mouth. ‘You asked me to bring John in. Well, I’m finding that difficult. He’s under the protection of the US Marshals and I haven’t been able to find a good enough reason for them to release him into my custody.’ Walter sneaked a glance at Hartlaub, but I didn’t miss it. When I glanced the CIA agent’s way, he was studying his feet. Without missing a beat, Walter continued. ‘So, your plan to use him to draw out Cain must be put on the back burner. If it comes to it, I’ll pull rank and demand John’s attendance but for now we will concentrate on freeing Jennifer without him.’

‘I never intended placing him in harm’s way. I just wanted Cain to hear his voice,’ I said. ‘Surely you can have him brought to the other end of a phone?’

‘Yes, yes, if it becomes necessary. But let’s concentrate on what we can do without him.’

‘What’s going on, Walt?’

‘We’re planning on taking down Tubal Cain, that’s what’s going on.’

‘You act edgy every time I mention John.’

‘Because we’ve more urgent business to contend with, that’s why. Now… can we plan on how we intend to kill this bastard or not?’

‘Make all the plans you want, Walter. You can come get me when you’re done.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘I’m going to take a shower. It stinks in here.’

The room wasn’t the only thing that stank. So did Walter’s lies, and the more I tried to make sense of them, the more they made me feel sick to the core.

Trying to expunge the nausea, I spent some time under a hot shower in the stall at the back of the cabin. Soap and shampoo didn’t help, so I turned the dial to its lowest setting and cleansed myself with its icy chill. When I was done, I found the roughest towel I could get my hands on and practically flagellated myself with it, like I was paying penance. I dumped my sweats and dressed in my spares, settling my weapons about my body. For a moment I considered walking away. If what I suspected was true then I wondered why I was still involved. But the thought was fleeting. Jennifer was in peril, and therefore I was going to do everything I could to save her.

When I got back to the living room their anticipation hit me like an electrical charge. Walter and Hartlaub were bent over a laptop and when they looked up I knew that the waiting was over. Hartlaub was as steady as usual but Walter looked pale, a sheen of perspiration on his forehead. He licked his lips, tongue flicking rapidly as he moistened his dry mouth. ‘We’re on.’

Cain considered his new domain and hated it. The Queen Sofia was a rusting hulk, an ugly, sprawling container ship that carried with it a memory of all the nefarious activity it had been involved in over the years. Most recently it had been used to transport girls snatched from the Balkans and destined for the sex trade in the US. It was no better below decks; the interior of the ship was as unsavoury as the crewmen who worked there. He hated the stench of unwashed bodies, the grease that got everywhere and the ever-present acidic undertones of corrosion. He felt itchy, unclean, as if bugs crawled under his clothing and burrowed into his skin. He couldn’t wait to be off the vessel, back in the good clean air again.

He walked down the corridor — he couldn’t be bothered with all those fancy nautical terms — towards the rooms that Captain Grodek had made into temporary holding cells. At his shoulder walked Baron, seemingly as unconcerned with the filth and stench as he was with the blood now decorating the front of his jacket. Baron, to prove his allegiance to Cain, had shot fat Brady point-blank in his gut despite the blow-back from the wound. He’d stood there impassively while Cain had bent over the dying man and finished the job he’d started on his thumb. Cain nicked it off with the Recon Tanto and tossed it to Baron.

‘Hold that for me will ya, I’m all fingers and thumbs these days,’ Cain had quipped.

Baron hadn’t acknowledged the joke, just slipped the severed digit into a pocket for safe keeping.

Now Cain ignored the man’s presence; his wit seemed to be wasted on everyone these days.

They’d only had to kill another two of Grodek’s men. The others had grumbled at the sudden shift in command, but only until Cain had slaughtered the ringleaders. After that they acquiesced in his way of thinking. As long as they were paid for their efforts, they didn’t care who their masters were. Cain promised them a good pay day once this trip was over, and they bought it. The fact he’d no intention of being aboard the ship within the next couple hours didn’t matter. He was no fool. He’d used various means to cover his tracks while making contact with the black-ops controller, but it didn’t matter how many firewalls he directed the calls through, they’d have been tracked back to this ship. Chances were that Walter Hayes Conrad would consider having the ship torpedoed rather than allow him to escape a second time, which was why Cain had organised a second boat to take him and Jennifer elsewhere.

Cain fancied himself as a Prince of Chaos. He didn’t care if plans went to crap, for that was the nature of the universe he inhabited. Let Conrad nuke the ship if he wanted to, let him send an assault team of Navy Seals; all they’d find was a Mary Celeste when they got here. Cain’s plan was always adaptable, to take into account the whim of chaotic influence, and it didn’t matter that his original plan to lure John Telfer wasn’t as easy as he’d assumed. He was confident that Telfer would be delivered to him sooner or later.

He unlocked the letterbox hatch and peered through the slot, nodding in satisfaction at the empty room. Jennifer had been moved to somewhere less odious, as he’d commanded Pete Eckhart, the driver. By doing his bidding, Eckhart had proven his loyalty. He was one of the few who would be allowed to live when they disembarked the ship. Cain and Baron would have their hands full with Jennifer and whoever showed up to save her, someone had to steer the launch to land. Eckhart could always be disposed of later.

He glanced over his shoulder at Baron. The man was standing calmly, staring into space. Weirdo, Cain thought. He walked on and heard Baron falling into step behind him.

They took a turn in the passage, and approached another room. This one had a similar door to that of the first cell, with a hinged flap cut into the metal. Cain unlocked the hatch and let it drop with a clang. Inside, Jennifer didn’t respond. She was sitting in a chair, her wrists and ankles bound with leather straps. Her head hung down, her hair masking her features. Eckhart had reported that she’d refused to eat and had spat the mouthful he’d forked into her mouth back at him.