could be related to the finding of Hitler’s lost submarine and its alleged cargo of enriched uranium. More on this story as it breaks … I’m Susan Schulman.”
Kim looked away from the television. “Oh my God! Nick, it’s because of that German sub you guys found. Dear God ….”
Nick tried to hold the Styrofoam cup in his trembling hand. He sat the cup on the bar, looked at his shaking hands. “To hell with Nazi ghosts. They hurt Jason, they die twice.”
Nick told O’Brien and the others on Dave’s boat what he’d heard from the television newscast. “We gotta find Jason. Anything happen to him … I hold myself responsible. Dave’s locker is Davy Jones locker.”
“Nick,” said Dave, “they probably picked Jason up because of the soundbites taken out of context. Why they killed Nicole, I don’t know. Must have thought she knew more than she did, or could identify them if she was used as a pawn to get Jason. But you should have kept your voice down when you and Sean were talking about the canisters and where we stored them. Unfortunately, both Jason and the canisters are in jeopardy.”
Paul Thompson stepped back inside from the cockpit where he’d gone to use his cell. Dave asked, “Paul, who does your team think is behind this?”
“Most likely a sleeper cell right here in Florida. The imam ostensibly working for Syria or Iran, connected to al-Qaeda. But one of our profilers told me it also might be any of the international mafia affiliations. Russians, maybe even the Germans since we’re talking German U-boat and material they may believe they own. If it’s Russian mob, they’re here to steal and sell it. It’s worth millions.”
Lauren said, “Or they might use it. I assume NSA is all ears on possible bid wars coming in from out of the country.”
“Out of the country and in the country,” Paul said. “All known channels are being monitored by the minute. Nothing yet.”
O’Brien looked out a curtain on
“Yeah.”
“That wasn’t Jason’s only stop. He was going to three other places, all of which had larger parking lots, less chance to be seen if you were going to kidnap someone.”
Dave crossed his legs. “Sean, what are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking you knew where Jason was going because I told you.” O’Brien turned to Thompson. “Then you told him, and now Jason is missing.”
“And what’s your point?” Paul asked, crossing his arms.
“If Jason was being followed, the kidnappers had better opportunities and places to snatch him. Chapman’s is a crowded, small parking lot. The last place he was going before coming back, but you knew that.”
“Dave, I don’t appreciate your friend suggesting that I may have had something to do with the kid’s disappearance.”
“The name’s O’Brien. And, right now, I don’t trust anyone. Especially the CIA, where lying is an art form. Sixty-seven years ago a kid about Jason’s age, Billy Lawson, trusted the wrong people and was murdered.”
“Sean,” Lauren said, standing. “There’s no conspiracy here. Maybe Jason was going to meet Nicole.”
O’Brien started for the door. “Sean, hold on a second,” Dave said. “Look, I know how tense this is right now. We have to-”
“We have to find Jason. And we have to do it now.” O’Brien headed out, noticing the rain had stopped.
“Where are you going?” Lauren asked
“The next place these freaks will be, Dave’s locker. You’re right, Nick. Now it looks a hell of a lot like Davy Jones locker.”
“I’m goin’ with you,” Nick said.
Thompson stood. “No! You can’t go alone!”
O’Brien was already gone.
Yuri Volkow looked at the ball ping hammer and said, “Very effective little tool.”
“What are you gonna do?” Jason’s voice cracked.
“This hammer is small,” Volkow said. “However, it can do large damage. Because the steel head is small, I can tap certain vertebra on your spinal column with just enough force to cause severe pain. And, you will never heal properly. Your bones will be fused. You will never be able to bend over to tie your shoes. Your ability to make love with a woman will be greatly diminished.”
“Please ….”
“Get him out of the chair, Andrei. Rip the shirt off his back.”
“Wait!” Jason shouted. “You don’t need the numbers.”
“What do you mean?”
“The canisters aren’t on the bottom of the ocean anymore.”
“Where are they?”
“Here! Sean and Nick brought them up. They put them in a warehouse.”
“What warehouse?”
“It’s called Ponce Storage in Dunlawton.”
“Which room?”
“Number’s U-236. Same number that’s on the sub.”
Yuri turned his head like a cat looking at a goldfish in a bowl. He smiled, teeth barely visible, a web of saliva in the corner of his small mouth. “Excellent. You are proving to be valuable. My father wasn’t much older than you when they killed him.”
“Who killed him?”
“Your people, Americans.”
Jason stammered. “Look, there’s a lot more of that uranium.”
“Where?”
“Sean O’Brien knows. He met this woman and her grandmother. The grandmother told him in 1945 her husband, a guy about my age, saw the Germans bury a bunch of canisters like the ones we found.”
“Where?
“On the beach. Near here. Sean thinks he knows the location.”
Yuri walked around Jason’s chair. “Is O’Brien’s number on your cell phone?”
“Yes.”
“Is O’Brien a good friend of yours?”
“Yes … he’s there for me. And he knows my mom real well.”
“Let us see if he will be there for you now. We will discover if he thinks your life is worth more than that of the German cargo buried in a hole in 1945.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
O’Brien thought about Maggie Canfield, the look on her face the morning she stepped on his boat after a twenty-year absence and, again, last night in the parking lot when he was walking Max. Then he pictured Jason, pushing images of torture from his mind. He drove his Jeep more than eighty-miles-per-hour in a forty-five zone. Nick tightened his seat belt. “This is a hellava way to make me never drink again. You don’t have to kill me!”
“I should,” O’Brien said.
“Yeah, man, you should. I really screwed up, runnin’ my mouth. Jason overhearing what I-”
“Let’s move on, Nick. We can’t change it. We can try to salvage what we have left, beginning with Jason’s life and maybe a couple million more.”
O’Brien’s cell rang. It was Maggie Canfield. “Sean, dear God! Where's Jason? I just saw the news. Nicole's
