David Dun - The Black Silent

"What's our little weasel found?" Frick finally asked.

"Well, Rolf's found a partial draft of some kind of allegiance document. Like a pledge."

"Belonging to?"

"Anderson was drafting it on his computer," Khan said, "but it reads like a government document." Khan voiced the pledge:

"Whereas we have been given by Providence a great discovery that might enhance the life of man and extend his time on earth;

"Whereas we have joined together to use this new knowledge for the good of all, with harm to none;

"Whereas we have enumerated certain goals and the manner of their achievement;

"By this document we commit ourselves…"

"That's it? Commit ourselves to what?" Frick asked. "That's all we found."

Haley moved the boat down the beach with the first load of files while Sam returned to the house. Sarah was in considerable pain just from the overtightened cuffs and it was hard on Haley to wait around with Sarah suffering.

Wondering if he was using more guts than brains, Sam emerged from the shrubbery near the door to the garage. He slipped back through the door, grabbed an armload of files, heard whispering, and turned to look back out into the garden. Two men were headed down the path with their guns drawn. Obviously they didn't expect anyone behind them in the house. Putting the files down, he went quietly after them, forcing himself to endure the pain of moving at a trot. They didn't see him coming, intent as they were on the beach.

Sam reminded himself not to strike a lethal blow. Anger over Sarah would make it easy to put a nose cartilage into a brain.

Catching the first man unawares, he delivered a hard blow to the area of the seventh cervical vertebrae. The man spun. Sam slammed a fist into the chin and an elbow hard into the floating ribs. Something snapped and the man dropped. Without stopping his motion Sam kicked at the other man's right arm before he could pull his gun. The kick was a mistake. It hurt and, not surprisingly, it went wide, clipping the man's elbow. The man grunted and swung his firearm up. With one hand Sam clamped the gun while he used the other to deliver a hard, palm-up blow to the chin. The man staggered and Sam landed a harder punch to the point of the chin. It took three strikes and a badly broken jaw to bring the man down, but he would likely stay put for a few minutes.

Sam quickly walked back and grabbed another armload of files that he'd left in the doorway, then reversed toward the beach. His legs were getting worse and he was further degrading them with the kick fighting.

Once at the water he flashed the penlight and waded. In a couple minutes he was in the boat and rowing like his life depended on it.

No doubt it did.

Haley was comforting Sarah, and Sarah seemed in better spirits.

After he had rowed a good half-mile offshore, Sam used his cell phone to call Ernie Sanders. No answer. He left a voice mail message, instead. They tried Rachael. She answered and explained the difficulties she was having with the authorities. They told her about Sarah and she said she would relay it. There was desperation in Rachael's voice and Sam knew she was trying. It was only a matter of time and the government would listen and come.

The two women were now shaking from the cold. Although the temperature was probably about fifty-five degrees, there was a stiff breeze. They had no way to warm themselves out here. Sam was a little better off from rowing hard, and he was naturally hardy when it came to extreme cold. Nevertheless, they were all imagining the luxury of heat.

"Surely the FBI will come now," Haley said.

Sam kept rowing. "Consider that I never saw Frick in the house, nor did I see him with Sarah. Physical evidence takes a lab."

"To investigate, all they need is Sarah's story. True?"

"Jurisdiction. They need jurisdiction, like a kidnap across state lines. Or a civil-rights claim. Civil-rights claims usually move slowly. Otherwise, it's a job for the sheriff or the state police. It's a holiday, in the middle of the night, and there are supposed eyewitnesses to our murderous ways. Obviously Frick didn't steal the Opus Magnum. If the state or feds came, they wouldn't know where to come because Frick wouldn't tell them. We can't tell them where we are or what we're doing because it might get back to Frick. It'll get worked out, but maybe not in the middle of the first night."

"So what do we do?" Haley asked.

"We need to leave Sarah with someone. Is there anyone we can trust?"

"I know someone. Sarah knows them. Of all the people on the island they're the ones I would trust. The Harlasens. They've been here for years. They own rental properties on various islands. And they're close friends of Ben and me."

"Let's do it," said Sam. "Where do we go?"

"We can row there. Just past the Williamses', and then into McArdle Bay."

Haley called the Harlasens on her cell and spoke with Eugene Harlasen, explaining the situation in no-nonsense language. Then Haley started answering the obvious questions.

People on the islands were accustomed to an orderly world and law enforcement was usually right. The sheriff had been around for years, knew everybody, and nothing ever spun out of control. Haley's tale was disorienting, to say the least.

Haley paused to listen. "We're trying to find Ben before someone else does." Haley spent a few more minutes reiterating with slightly more explanation, then hung up.

"They'll help," she told Sam.

"When we get her there," Sam said, "you take a lot of swab samples. You comb through all Sarah's hair very carefully for any loose hairs that might belong to anyone else."

"Okay." Haley sounded exhausted.

She had her arms around Sarah, encouraging her to hang on and things would get better.

Haley promised lots and lots of aspirin.

Sarah actually smiled at that.

Haley took the improvement in Sarah's status to ask a question.

"Sarah, I know you're feeling awful, but we're having a hard time figuring out some things that Ben left us. He wrote something about Sargasso stew. We think he was trying to lead us to something. Does it mean anything to you?"

Sarah seemed sleepy, and her head was starting to loll. Sleep, Sam knew, was a natural escape from pain and extreme stress.

"Sarah," Haley said again. "Do you know anything about Sargasso stew?"

Sarah's tongue had swollen from the gag and she had a slight slur to her speech. She nodded her head. She moved her tongue, as if trying to clear her mouth, then said: "Look on my laptop."

Sam and Haley stared at one another.

"Where?" Sam asked.

"My computer was in my car at Fisherman's Bay Dock."

"Did you tell Frick's people this?" Sam asked.

"Not at all."

"Do you know what Ben put on there?"

"I don't. It's password protected."

Haley gently took Sarah in her arms and stroked her hair as Sam rowed with renewed strength.

They absolutely had to get the computer.

"I want three cars driving MacKaye Harbor Road, I want one car on Aleck Bay Road, and a couple cars patrolling Mud Bay Road." Frick spoke calmly, having shed the anger.

His future depended on doing this right. "If you see anybody suspicious, you check it out. I want another airplane flying this end of the island."

"In the dark?" the dispatcher asked.

"Yes. These people that kidnapped Sarah James are in the water. They left marks from a boat on the beach. The plane's a quick way to sweep the area. Am I clear on all of this?"

"Yes, sir. And I've got the interisland ferry on the dock at Friday Harbor to make an emergency run," the dispatcher said. "But it will be about forty minutes before it arrives.

We've got men coming in boat one, and boat two is leaving in a couple minutes."

"We have no more cars over here, so hurry the ferry."