Cold Vengeance - Lincoln Child [118]
Soft footfalls approached outside the door, and then a triple knock sounded lightly, followed by a double knock. Falkoner rose and unlocked the door. A man with a cigarette in his mouth stepped inside.
“Put that out,” said Falkoner sharply.
The man quickly stubbed it out. “He’s on board,” he said.
Falkoner looked at him. “When?”
“A few minutes back. He was good—arrived on a floating piece of trash. I almost didn’t catch it. He climbed onto the swim platform and now he’s in the aft deck area. Vic up on the flybridge is keeping track of him with the infrared night-vision setup.”
“Does he suspect anything?”
“No. I pretended to be drunk, like you said.”
“Very good.”
Esterhazy rose. “Damn it, if you had an opportunity to kill him you should have taken it! Don’t get cocky—this man is worth half a dozen of you. Shoot him at your first chance.”
Falkoner turned. “No.”
Esterhazy stared at him. “What do you mean, no? We already discussed—”
“Take him alive. I have a few questions before we kill him.”
Esterhazy stared. “You’re making a huge mistake. Even if you manage to take him alive, he won’t answer any questions.”
Falkoner gave Esterhazy a brutal smile, which stretched the already repulsive mole. “I never have problems getting people to answer questions. But I wonder, Judson, why you would have a problem with that? Afraid we might find out something you’d rather keep hidden?”
“You’ve no idea who you’re dealing with,” Esterhazy said quickly, a stab of familiar fear suddenly freighting his anxiety. “You’re a fool if you don’t kill him right away, on sight, before he figures out what’s going on.”
Falkoner narrowed his eyes. “There are a dozen of us. Heavily armed, well trained. What’s the matter, Judson? We’ve taken care of you well enough all these years—and now you suddenly don’t trust us? I’m surprised—and hurt.”
The voice was laden with sarcasm. Esterhazy felt the old fear grow in the pit of his stomach.
“We’ll be in open water on our own boat. We’ve got the advantage of surprise—he has no idea he’s walking into a trap. And we’ve got his woman tied up below. He’s at our mercy.”
Esterhazy swallowed. As am I, he thought.
Falkoner spoke into his headset. “Take her out to sea.” He looked around the group gathered in the engine room. “We’ll let the others take care of him. If things go awry, then we’ll make our move.”
Pendergast, still crouching behind the tenders, felt a rumble shudder through the yacht. The engines had been turned on. He heard some voices forward, heard the faint splash of a mooring pennant tossed overboard; and then he felt the prow of the boat swing westward, toward the navigational channel of the river, as the engines accelerated to full throttle.
Pendergast pondered the coincidence of his arrival and the boat’s departure, and decided it was not a coincidence after all.
CHAPTER 68
Aboard the Vergeltung
ESTERHAZY WAITED IN THE ENGINE ROOM with Falkoner. The twin diesels, now running at cruising speed, were loud in the confined space.
He checked his watch. Ten minutes had passed since Pendergast came on board. The air of tension was gradually increasing. He didn’t like this—didn’t like it at all. Falkoner had lied to him.
He’d taken exquisite care in reeling Pendergast in. Constance had done precisely what he’d expected, escaping her loose bonds, writing a note and tossing it out the window of the safe house to his plant in the next garden. And since Pendergast was now on board, he had clearly swallowed the bait so carefully dangled—“vengeance,” which of course in German translated to Vergeltung. It had been a balancing act, giving Pendergast just enough information to locate the boat but not enough to suspect a trap.
But now Falkoner was insisting on taking Pendergast alive.