Cold Vengeance

“Captain reporting, sir,” came the captain’s steady voice. “I heard some shooting in the saloon. There was a fire on one of the tenders—”

“I’m well aware of all that. What’s the status on the bridge?”

“All’s well up here. Gruber’s with me and we’re locked and barred and heavily armed. What the hell’s going on below?”

“Pendergast took out Berger and Vic Klemper. I sent Szell and Hammar to the main saloon and now I can’t raise them. Keep your eyes open.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Maintain course. Await further orders.”

Esterhazy stared at him. Falkoner’s chiseled features remained calm and collected. He turned to Esterhazy and said, “This man of yours, he seems to be anticipating our every move. How is that?”

“He’s a devil,” said Esterhazy.

Falkoner turned toward Esterhazy and his eyes narrowed. He almost looked like he was going to say something, but then turned away, speaking into his headset. “Baumann?”

“Here.”

“Your position?”

“Upper VIP stateroom. With Eberstark.”

“Klemper’s gone. You’re in charge. I want you and Eberstark to join Nast on the sky deck. You go up the aft ladder. Eberstark, you go up the main ladder. If the target is there, catch him in the crossfire. Move with extreme caution. If you don’t see him, the three of you sweep the sky and upper decks, fore to aft. Forget what I said about taking him alive. Shoot to kill.”

“Yes, sir. Shoot to kill.”

“I want Zimmermann and Schultz on the main deck, in position to ambush anyone coming down either of the two stairways. If you don’t kill him on the sky deck, the pincer movement above will drive him below and forward, where they’ll be waiting.”

“Yes, sir.”

Esterhazy paced the narrow engine room, thinking furiously. Falkoner’s plan seemed a good one. How could Pendergast—even Pendergast — escape five men armed with automatic weapons on a confined boat, firing at him from two sides?

He looked at Falkoner, still calmly speaking into his headset. He remembered, with horror, the eager look in the man’s eyes as he tortured and killed the journalist. It was the first time he’d seen Falkoner actually enjoying something. And he recalled Falkoner’s eyes when he’d spoken of capturing Pendergast: that same eager, anticipatory look. Like thirst. Despite the warmth of the engine room, he shivered. He was beginning to realize that, even if Pendergast was killed, his problems with the Covenant were far from over. In fact, they might just be beginning.

It had been a serious mistake to plan this op on the Vergeltung. Now he, too, had placed himself at their mercy.

CHAPTER 71

PENDERGAST ASCENDED THE SIDE OF THE YACHT, clinging like a limpet to the exterior of the upper deck, using the drip edges of the windows as toe- and handholds. He reached the lower edge of the bridge windows. While the windows of the staterooms were smoked, making it impossible to see inside, the bridge windows were clear. As he peered over the edge, in the dim light from the electronics he could make out the personnel on the bridge: a captain and an armed mate, who was doubling as navigator. Beyond, in the sky lounge behind the bridge, was the single guard with an automatic weapon, pacing back and forth. Occasionally he would come out onto the sky deck behind the lounge, make a circuit, and go back in. Outside the sky lounge, the sky deck was clear except for an empty, uncovered hot tub and some banquettes.

The bridge itself was locked and barred. A yacht like this would have high security as a matter of course. The windows would be shatterproof and, judging from their thickness, possibly even bulletproof. There was no way in for him — none.

Pendergast crept along the slanting wall until he was just below the level of the toe-rail, where sliding glass doors opened from the sky lounge to the sky deck.

He reached into his pocket, took out a coin, and tossed it so that it clanked against the glass doors.

The man inside the sky lounge froze, then fell into a crouch. “Nast here,” came the guard’s whispered voice over the radio. “I heard something.”

“Where?”

“Here, on the sky deck.”

“Check it out,” was the response. “Carefully. Baumann, Eberstark, prepare to cover him.”

Pendergast saw the dim outline of the man, crouching behind the glass doors, peer out. When the man was satisfied the deck was clear, he rose, slid open the door, and stepped out warily, weapon at the ready. Pendergast lowered his head below the edge of the deck and, speaking into his own stolen headset in a hoarse, indistinguishable whisper, said: “Nast. Port side, over the railing. Check it out.”

He waited. After a moment, the dark silhouette of the man’s head appeared over the railing, directly above him, looking down. Pendergast shot him in the face.

With a gargled cry the man’s head snapped back, then the body slumped forward, Pendergast helping catapult it over the railing. It struck the main deck rail and became hung up on it, sprawled partially onto the walkway. Grasping a post, Pendergast vaulted up onto the sky deck as a burst of chatter sounded over the radio. Leaping into the empty hot tub, he crouched low. He knew two more men were on their way to the sky deck.

Excellent.

They came thundering out onto the deck almost immediately, one aft and one forward. Pendergast waited for the right alignment, then leapt out of the hot tub with a single shot to startle them; the two men, as expected, let loose with automatic weapons and one of them fell, killed by his partner’s crossfire; the other threw himself to the ground, firing wildly and ineffectively.

Pendergast disabled the man with a single shot, then leapt over the sky deck rail, dropping down to the main deck walkway below. Nast’s dead body afforded an agreeably soft landing. He then vaulted over the main deck rail, grasping hold of two uprights to prevent himself from dropping into the sea. For a moment his legs dangled over the water, the hull sloping gently away underneath him. With a quick effort he found a purchase with his feet on a lower porthole drip edge.

There he waited, clinging to the hull, below the level of the main deck, listening. Again, the radio told him what he needed to know.

CHAPTER 72

DOWN IN THE ENGINE ROOM, ESTERHAZY PACED, aware of a growing sense of confusion and panic, which mirrored his own internal turmoil.

How the hell was Pendergast doing it? It was as if he were reading their minds…

And then suddenly he knew. Of course. It was so simple. And it gave him an idea.

He spoke, for the first time, into his own radio headset. “Esterhazy here. Bring the girl to the foredeck. You hear me? Bring her there quickly. We need to get rid of her; she’s only an impediment to us now.”

He shut off the headset and signaled Falkoner with a shake of his head not to use his own.