Cold Vengeance - Lincoln Child [126]
“Lift!” cried Falkoner, grabbing her by the shoulder. “Now!”
She struggled with sudden, frantic, shocking strength.
“Over!” called Falkoner.
In one galvanic movement they heaved her over the rail into the ocean. She landed with a splash and after a moment resurfaced, flailing, her cries rising for a brief time over the rumble of wind and water, then fading away rapidly as she disappeared into the darkness.
CHAPTER 74
PENDERGAST BEGAN RUNNING TOWARD THE BOW as soon as he heard her cries. As he sprinted along the walkway, he glimpsed a flash of white plummeting into the water and saw Constance sweep past, then disappear in the darkness behind the wake.
For a moment he was paralyzed with shock. Then he understood.
He heard a voice coming from the forward deck: Esterhazy. “Aloysius!” it called out. “You hear me? Come out with your hands up. Surrender. You do that and we’ll turn the boat around. Otherwise we keep going. Hurry!”
Pendergast, his .45 drawn, didn’t move.
“If you want us to turn around, come into the open with your hands up. It’s November—you know better than anyone how cold the water is. I give her fifteen minutes, twenty at most.”
Again, Pendergast did not move. Could not move.
“We’ve got a waypoint of her location on the GPS,” Esterhazy called out. “We can find her in minutes.”
Pendergast hesitated for a final, excruciating moment. He could almost admire Esterhazy’s brilliant ploy. Then he raised his hands over his head and walked slowly forward. He came around the forecabin to see Esterhazy and two other men standing on the forecastle, weapons drawn.
“Walk toward us, slowly, hands over your head.”
Pendergast obeyed.
Esterhazy came forward, took the .45 out of his hands, and stuck it in his own waistband. Then he searched him. The search was thorough and professional. Esterhazy removed his blades, a .32 Walther, packets of chemicals, wire, and various tools. He groped through the jacket lining and found other tools and items loosely sewed up inside.
“Take your jacket off.”
Pendergast removed his jacket and dropped it on the deck.
Esterhazy turned to one of the others. “Cuff, secure, and tape him. Completely. I want him immobile as a mummy.”
One of the men came forward. Pendergast’s hands were cuffed behind his back with plastic straps. His mouth was sealed with duct tape.
“Lie down,” said the third man, speaking with a German accent.
Pendergast complied. They cuffed his ankles, then taped his wrists, arms, and legs, leaving him prone on the deck and unable to move.
“All right,” Esterhazy said to the German. “Now tell the captain to turn the boat around and pick up the girl.”
“Why?” said the man. “We achieved our objective—who cares?”
“You wanted him to talk, right? Isn’t that why he’s still alive?”
After a brief hesitation, the German spoke to the captain through his headset. A moment later, the boat slowed and began to turn.
Esterhazy checked his watch. Then he turned to Pendergast. “It’s been twelve minutes,” he said. “I hope you didn’t hesitate too long.”
CHAPTER 75
ESTERHAZY TOOK UP A DOCK LINE. “Help me tie him to these cleats,” he told Schultz.
His mind was working a mile a minute. He’d been faking bravura and an aura of command, but right below the surface he was almost beside himself with fear. He had to figure out a way to save his own skin now. But nothing came to mind. What’s the matter, Judson? Falkoner had said. You suddenly don’t trust us? I’m surprised—and hurt.
Esterhazy realized that the chances were good he was as dead as Pendergast.
The boat had come around and was now slowing as they neared the waypoint. Esterhazy moved to the bow, searching for the young woman while two spotlights from the bridge scanned the heaving sea.
“There!” said Esterhazy as one spotlight picked up a flash of reflecting tape from the life preserver.
In a moment the yacht had reached her, slowing still further and turning. Esterhazy jogged aft and snagged the life preserver with a mooring hook, hauling Constance around to the stern. Falkoner