Cain turned on Telfer. 'Get a freakin' move on!'
Telfer snatched the briefcase to his chest, rising up at last. Cain stepped toward him. The gun trained on him. 'Give me the gun.'
Telfer shook his head. Lifted his own gun and pointed it at Cain.
'We haven't got time for this now,' Cain warned him.
'No,' Telfer said. 'We haven't.'
They both eyed each other over the ends of their guns.
'Let's get the hell out of here and worry about the rest later,' Cain offered.
Before Telfer could accept or decline the invitation, a door burst open at the front of the cabin and another man skidded through. He had a compact Uzi submachine gun in his hands. He made a quick scan of the living area. To give him his due, the chaotic scene didn't appear to faze him much. He lifted the Uzi and let loose an arching stream of bullets as he thudded over to cover Carson. In the same instant the injured Latino rolled over, grabbing at the gun he'd dropped on the floor. Two targets, one bullet, more coming his way. Cain decided the best course of action was to get out as quickly as possible.
As bullets churned the decor behind him, he flung himself through a side window, crashing through glass to sprawl on the deck. Shouts came from inside the cabin, then Telfer was sprawling on the deck beside him, the briefcase clattering away from him. Telfer's shirt was bloody and he groaned as he rolled to his knees. Cain grabbed him, checking his hands.
'What the hell're you doing?' Telfer demanded.
'Where's your gun?' Cain snapped.
'I dropped it,' Telfer said.
'Jesus Christ,' Cain said. He slapped Telfer's shoulder. 'Get the briefcase. We're out of here.'
Telfer went on hands and knees, grabbing at the Samsonite case. He came back to Cain, the case against his chest. 'That better be
'Course it is. I'm not a friggin' idiot.'
Cain nodded, indicated the front of the boat. 'That way. Now.'
They both lurched up as the fourth minder appeared at the window they'd recently crashed through. He gave an angry shout, twisted so he could bring the Uzi into play. As he did, Cain sprang toward him with his Bowie knife. The knife connected before the man could depress the trigger, severing his thumb. The man screamed and the gun flopped sideways, bullets splintering the wooden deck next to Telfer. Cain chopped again, this time deep into the man's wrist and the man withdrew his seriously wounded arm from further harm.
Telfer was up and running. Cain glanced at him, then down at the deck. He paused in his flight to retrieve the severed thumb, popping it into his pocket alongside his other mementos.
The bodyguard was back at the window again, but only to scream in abstract terror while he attempted to replace his drooping hand in its rightful place. Cain grinned at him, then charged after Telfer.
He caught up with Telfer at the helm of the yacht. Telfer was wide-eyed as he looked down at the seemingly bottomless gulf below them. The water had a turquoise sheen from the thin layer of diesel oil on its surface.
'Jump,' Cain told him.
'No,' Telfer said, the briefcase clutched tightly to him.
'Jump, Telfer.'
'No way. I can't swim.'
'Jesus Christ on a freakin' bike! You can't swim?'
Again Telfer shook his head.
'I don't believe it,' Cain said. He grabbed at Telfer and propelled him toward the rail. 'Get the hell over the side. If you think I've gone to all this trouble to let you drown . . .'
Telfer resisted, though he knew it was his only chance of survival. Even as he dithered, he could hear the slap of running feet from inside the cabin.
'One of them spicks is still alive,' Cain snapped at him. 'So are two of the guards and Carson. Any second now, they're going to be out here and we'll be dead. You got that?'
Telfer nodded but still held back from jumping.
'Oh, Holy Christ!' Cain said as he grabbed him and flung him bodily over the railing. Telfer hit the water like a stone and sank immediately. Cain lifted a leg to the railing, just as the minder he'd shot in the arm rounded the deck. Blood had made a patchwork of his chest but he was still in the game. He had the Uzi and was already searching for a target.
Cain lifted his gun and fired.
Not at the man, but at the scuba-diving tanks he saw stacked neatly along one wall of the cabin. It was a desperate shot, one he hadn't time to calculate, but even as he plunged headfirst into the sea he felt the concussion of the explosion send shock waves through the water around him. Cain hit the water and swam deeper, his ears thrumming with the concussive blast, until his clawing hand found Telfer's shirt. Telfer twisted and tugged, in the throes of panic.
Cain cursed, letting loose a stream of bubbles. He couldn't get a grip on Telfer because he was also holding on to his Bowie. All the trouble he'd gone to in order to regain his knife and now this? He let the blade drop from his hand, watched it sink with a wistful look on his face until it was lost in the murk. Then he angrily grabbed hold of Telfer's clothing and kicked upward.
They broke the churning surface, Cain behind Telfer with an arm looped around his neck. Telfer gagged, spat, and sucked in great lungfuls of air as he cradled the briefcase to his chest like a baby. Cain guessed his death grip on the case had nothing to do with what was inside, but rather that the sealed case was a handy flotation
