Douglas Preston: Cold Vengeance

“Don’t,” Esterhazy said to Falkoner. “You keep doing that, he’ll stop talking.”

“Damn you, I know what I’m doing. I’ve been at this for years.”

“You don’t know him .”

But Falkoner had stopped. He held up the bloody knife, waved it in front of Pendergast’s face, wiped the blood off on the agent’s lips. “The next time, her thumb comes off.” He smiled crookedly. “Do you love her? I suppose you must. Young, beautiful, spirited: who wouldn’t?” He straightened up, took a slow turn around the deck. “I’m waiting, Pendergast. Go on.”

But Pendergast did not go on. Instead, he was looking at Esterhazy intently.

Falkoner paused in his circuit, cocked his head to one side. “All right. I always keep my promises. Schultz, hold her hand steady.”

Schultz grasped Constance’s hand as Falkoner brandished the knife. Esterhazy could see he was, indeed, going to cut off her thumb. And if he did there would be no going back — not for Pendergast, and not for him.

JUST A MOMENT,” ESTERHAZY SAID.

Falkoner paused. “What?”

Esterhazy quickly stepped over to Falkoner and leaned in to his ear. “There’s something I neglected to tell you,” he murmured. “Something you must know. It’s very important.”

“Damn it, I’m in the middle of this.”

“Step over to the rail. They mustn’t hear. I’m telling you, it’s of the utmost importance.”

“This is a hell of a time to be interrupting my work!” Falkoner muttered, the smile of sadistic pleasure giving way to a scowl of frustration.

Esterhazy led Falkoner over to the port rail and walked him slightly aft. He glanced up: the view from both the bridge and the foredeck was blocked.

“What’s the problem?” Falkoner demanded.

Esterhazy leaned over to whisper in his ear, placing a hand on his shoulder. As they drew together, heads bowed, Esterhazy brought his pistol up and fired a bullet into the German’s cranium. A cloud of blood, gore, and bits of bone jetted out the far side, the blowback spraying Esterhazy directly in the face.

Falkoner jerked forward, eyes wide and astonished, and he fell into Esterhazy’s arms. Esterhazy grasped him by the shoulders and, with a brusque movement, heaved the body up onto the rail and tipped it over.

At the report of the gun, Zimmermann came tearing around the corner. Esterhazy shot him between the eyes.

“Schultz!” he cried out. “Help us!”

A moment later Schultz appeared, gun in hand, and Esterhazy shot him as well.

Then Esterhazy backed away, sputtering and spitting, wiping his face clean with a handkerchief and returning to the small group, pistol drawn. Gerta stood there, staring at him, paralyzed.

“Walk over here,” he told her. “Slow and easy. Or you’re dead, too.”

She obeyed. As she reached the edge of the cabin he grabbed her and, with the same tape used to tie Pendergast, bound her ankles, wrists, and mouth. He left her on the walkway where she wasn’t visible from the bridge, then strode back to the aft deck, where Hammar was slowly regaining consciousness, groaning and muttering. Esterhazy bound him securely. He made a quick tour of the upper decks, found the wounded Eberstark, and bound him as well. Then he walked forward again to where Pendergast and Constance were restrained.

He looked at the pair. Both had witnessed what he’d done. Constance was silent, but he could see blood dripping from her injured finger. He knelt, examined it. The second, deeper cut went to the bone but not through it. He fumbled in his pocket, brought out a clean handkerchief, and bound the finger. Then he stood up and faced Pendergast. The silvery eyes glittered back. Esterhazy thought he could detect — barely — lingering surprise.

“You once asked me how I could kill my own sister,” Esterhazy said. “I told you the truth then. And I’ll tell you the truth again now. I didn’t kill her. Helen’s alive.”

ESTERHAZY PAUSED. A NEW LOOK HAD COME into Pendergast’s eyes; a look he didn’t fully understand. And yet the man said nothing.

“You think your fight’s just with me,” Esterhazy went on rapidly. “But you’re wrong. It’s not just me. It’s not just this boat and this crew. The fact is you have no idea, no idea , of what you’re dealing with.”

No response from Pendergast.

“Listen. Falkoner was going to kill me, too. As soon as you were dead, he was going to do the same to me. I realized that just tonight, on this boat.”

“So you killed him to save yourself,” Constance said. “Is that supposed to solicit our trust?”

Esterhazy did his best to ignore this. “Damn it, Aloysius, listen to me: Helen is alive, and you need me to bring her to you . We don’t have the time to stand around talking about it now. Later, I’ll explain everything to you — not now. Are you going to cooperate with me or not?”

Constance laughed mirthlessly.

Esterhazy stared into Pendergast’s frozen, unreadable eyes for what seemed a very long time. Then he took a deep breath. “I’m going to take a chance,” he said. “A chance that somewhere in that strange head of yours, you might just believe me — about this, if nothing else.” Taking out a knife, he leaned over to cut Pendergast free, then hesitated.

“You know, Aloysius,” he said quietly, “what I’ve become was what I was born to be. It’s what I was born into— and it’s something beyond my control. If you only knew the horror that Helen and I have been subjected to, you’d understand.”

He sliced through the lines holding Pendergast to the stanchion, cut through the tape, and freed him.

Pendergast slowly stood up, massaging his arms, face still unreadable. Esterhazy hesitated a moment. Then he slipped Pendergast’s.45 from his own waistband and handed it to the FBI agent, butt first. Pendergast took it, tucked it away, and without a word went over to Constance and cut her free.

“Let’s go,” said Esterhazy.

For a moment, nobody moved.

“Constance,” said Pendergast, “wait for us at the tender in the stern.”

“Just a minute,” Constance said. “Surely you aren’t going to believe—”

“Please go to the tender. We’ll join you in a moment.”

With a single, lingering stare at Esterhazy, she turned and walked aft, disappearing into the dark.

“There are two men on the bridge,” Esterhazy said to Pendergast. “We have to neutralize them and get off this boat.”

When Pendergast did not reply, Esterhazy took the lead, pushing open a cabin door and stepping over a motionless body. They passed through the main saloon and then ascended a stairway. Arriving at the sky deck, he opened the sliding glass doors and crossed the sky lounge. Pendergast took up a position next to the bridge door, drawing his weapon. Esterhazy knocked.

A moment later the captain’s voice came over the intercom. “Who is it? What’s happening? What was that shooting?”

Esterhazy put on his calmest voice. “It’s Judson. It’s all over. Falkoner and I have got them immobilized in the saloon.”

“The rest of the crew?”

“Gone. Most of them killed or incapacitated — or overboard. But everything’s under control now.”

“Jesus!”

“Falkoner wants Gruber below for a few minutes.”

“We’ve been trying to raise Falkoner on the radio.”

“He ditched his radio. That man Pendergast got his hands on a headset and was listening in on our chatter. Look, we don’t have a lot of time, Captain, Falkoner wants the mate below. Now.”

“How long? I need him on the bridge.”

“Five minutes, tops.”