Марк Грини - One Minute Out

Maja needed a lot of work still. Riesling had just left her small berth after another frustrating session, and this was the reason she wanted to speak with Verdoorn.

Riesling waited for the security chief to end his call, then waited a little longer for him to give her his attention.

Riesling was a psychologist, but she knew she didn’t have to be a psychologist to pick up on the fact that Verdoorn hated women. She’d seen him brutalize, heard of him killing, and listened to him while he gave orders that ensured the roughest treatment of the women around him. She didn’t think he ever even had sex, which he easily could have done as much as he wanted considering his power in the Consortium along with his unfettered access to the merchandise.

Riesling realized quickly after meeting the South African that she was completely afraid of him, and she reasoned it to be a healthy fear.

Finally, he looked her way. “What is it?”

She said, “This Maja . . . she’s a difficult case. She’s utterly defiant.”

He nodded impassively. She saw that he was unsurprised. “The recruiter said her family unit was strong. She was intelligent, no drug use, no sexual abuse in her past. These are the tough cases, but that’s why you’re here.”

“I’ve been working with her all day. If anything, she’s only become more recalcitrant.”

Jaco shrugged, as if the conversation bored him. “The Director likes her stubbornness. He’s looking forward to draining that out of her.” When Riesling made no reply, he cocked his head. “But you are saying something else, aren’t you?”

The doctor nodded. “Even the most obstinate ones respond to my tactics. I am beginning to think this one is here to make trouble.”

“But . . .” Jaco was confused. “We took her, she didn’t just show up. Saying she is here to cause trouble would indicate she willfully came along with some sort of plan.”

“I’m not saying that. I am saying she is not like any of the other recruits. She understands this better than she should be able to. That or she’s just incredibly wily, but I’m worried about this one.”

Verdoorn said, “If you think the Director will just change his mind about seeing her in Venice, or about bringing her to Rancho Esmerelda, you can forget it. He is a hell of a lot more headstrong than this stupid whore we’re transporting below.”

Riesling sighed. “I know. It’s up to us to have her ready for him.”

“Are you making some sort of a request?”

“I think some additional . . . intervention is warranted.”

The South African said, “You want her beaten? I can do it, but the boss won’t like it. He’ll want her healthy for his visit tomorrow.”

The American woman shook her head. “No. Not beaten. I need to create some sort of a bond with her quickly, so it might help if we could initiate some trauma of a . . . of a more personal nature. This will help her look at me as something of a lifeline, a kindred female. Right now I’m just another of her captors as far as she sees things.”

Verdoorn nodded as he ate his pork. “You want her sexually defiled, and then you want to come to her side to tell her you had nothing to do with it but can help her cope with what has happened.”

“That’s it exactly.”

“The Director won’t like that, either.”

“I can give him my professional opinion that this was the prudent move.”

Verdoorn thought this over, then nodded. “He will defer to your expertise.” After a sip of beer, he said, “I can send one of the Greeks into her cabin tonight.”

Riesling thought it telling that Verdoorn immediately said he could beat her, if necessary, but when it came to sex, he suggested someone else.

“I think that might prove extremely effective in cooling the fires of resistance in her. I suggest Kostopoulos himself. I know how he is with the girls. She will need a lot of help in her recovery after a night with him, and it will only make my job easier.”

Verdoorn agreed. “I’ll talk to him. No doubt he’ll be happy to do his duty for the cause.”

“If he does it tonight, by tomorrow when we get to Italy, I can all but assure you Maja will be more obedient and ready for the Director’s visit.”

“That’s what we pay you for,” Jaco said, then his attention returned to his meal.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Thirty minutes after Talyssa Corbu and I climbed into the speedboat, the Romanian woman has vomited twice, and I’ve almost thrown up a half dozen times. I came the closest when she didn’t quite make it to the side and puked all over the deck, but I managed to hold my lunch in, and now La Primarosa is at least two miles behind us: still heading north, still a little off our port quarter, with its brilliant lights perfectly visible in the clear night.

I’ve been monitoring my fuel gauge, knowing I’m burning a lot of gas, and now see I’m down below half a tank. Over the sounds of the engine and the waves, I say, “We’re not going to be able to lead them all the way up the coast. We have about thirty minutes of fuel left.” I think it over for several seconds, then spend a few more seconds trying to talk myself out of the plan I’d devised while motoring along.

But the voice of reason can’t break through and put an end to this insanity.

I hold the wheel with one hand while I bring the binos to my eyes, looking to see if there is evidence of anyone standing on the deck of La Primarosa . From this distance, while bouncing up and down on the water, it’s impossible to tell.

With a sigh, I say, “Looks like I’m going to have to try a bottom-up under way.”

“A what ?”

“Raiding a ship from the waterline while it’s on the move.”

“That sounds difficult.”

I laugh. “It’s a little challenging, yeah. I’ve done it before, but not without a lot of equipment, and not alone.”

“How will you—”

She stops talking when I throttle back hard, putting the Mano Marine speedboat in neutral. It slows violently, knocking Talyssa and me both forward.

I could have warned her, but I hear the ticking clock in my head telling me I have to act fast. The time to hold her hand has passed. I tell her, “You’re going to have to drive the boat.”

After the ceaseless full-throttle engine rumble and the noise of the boat beating against the waves, the relative silence now is shocking. Talyssa stares at me in disbelief and dread, and I know what she’s going to say.

“Look. You showed me some things . . . but . . . but I’ve never done this before. I still don’t know how.”

“Do you know how to raid a vessel from the waterline while it’s moving at fifteen knots?” She doesn’t answer me, likely because she’s tired of my smartass comments. I add, “Trust me, you’ve got the easy part in all this.”

Talyssa leans over the side and vomits again. I just barely manage to suppress my own desire to hurl while I hold the wheel and focus on the approaching boat. I need to position myself nearly perfectly in the water to have any chance of pulling this off, and to get closer to the vessel’s path, I turn slightly to the west and add a little power.

It doesn’t take me long before I throttle back yet again, and we bob there in the darkness. The yacht is less than a mile and a half away, and closing steadily.

Talyssa sits there, staring at me, and I can feel the trepidation pouring off her.

“How are we going to do this?” she finally asks.

“I’m getting in the water, and you are going to pilot the boat in the direction of those lights on the coastline. Go slowly, one-third power. Make your way about halfway between me and the shore, maybe one mile out, and then throttle back to neutral. After La Primarosa passes by, keep your eyes out to sea, right here. If you see a light waving around in the water, that’s me, and I wasn’t able to get on board. Come and pick me up. If you don’t see anything for five minutes, head for land. You should be able to beach it easily, but be sure to pick an area where the shoreline isn’t too rocky.”