He was on his back, his arm against Graciela’s naked back. He felt the warmth of the contact. He thought about raising himself to look over her at the clock but he didn’t want to break the seam of their touch. As he closed his eyes to return to the dream, the unmistakable sound of the slider upstairs being slowly rolled open brought him awake. He realized that something-a sound-had woken him from the dream. He felt an icicle go through his chest and he became fully alert. Somebody was on the boat.
The Russian, he thought. Bolotov had found him and had come to make good on his threat. But then he quickly dismissed the possibility, returning to his instinctive belief that the Russian would not be that stupid.
He rolled to the edge of the bed and reached down to the remote phone set on the floor. He hit the speed dial combination for Buddy Lockridge’s boat and waited for him to answer. He wanted Lockridge to look at
After four rings Lockridge didn’t answer and McCaleb knew he couldn’t waste any more time. He quickly got out of bed and headed toward the stateroom’s closed door, checking the red glowing numerals of the clock and seeing it was ten minutes past three.
As he quietly opened the door, he thought about his gun. It was in the bottom drawer of the chart table. The intruder was closer to it than McCaleb was and possibly had already found it.
He mentally canvassed the lower deck, looking for a weapon and coming up with nothing. He had the door all the way open now.
“What is it?” Graciela whispered from behind him.
He quickly and quietly turned around and came to the bed. He put his hand over her mouth and whispered, “Somebody’s on the boat.”
He felt her body go rigid beneath his.
“They don’t know about you. I want you to quietly move over the side and lie down on the floor until I come get you.”
She didn’t move.
“Do it, Graciela.”
She started to move but then he held her.
“Do you have mace or any kind of weapon in your purse?”
She shook her head no. He nodded and then pushed her to the side of the bed nearest the wall. He went back to the door.
As McCaleb came quietly up the steps, he could see the slider was half open. There was more light in the salon than below and his vision improved. Suddenly the figure of a man was silhouetted against the exterior light beyond the door. The light seemed to reflect off the figure. McCaleb could not tell if the intruder was staring at him or was turned around, looking out at the marina.
McCaleb knew that the corkscrew he had used to open Graciela’s wine earlier was on the galley counter, just to the right at the top of the steps. He could easily get to it. He just had to decide if he would be using it against someone with something better.
He decided there was no choice. As he came to the top stair, he stretched out to reach the corkscrew. The stair creaked and McCaleb saw the silhouette tense. The element of surprise was gone.
“Freeze, asshole!” he yelled as he grabbed the corkscrew and moved toward the dark figure.
The intruder quickly moved to the door, going sideways out through it and using one hand to fling it down its track behind him. Grappling to get the door open, McCaleb lost a few seconds and the intruder was up on the dock and running before he was even out of the boat.
Instinctively, he knew he would not be able to catch the intruder but he leaped up onto the dock and gave full-speed chase anyway, the cool night air hardening his skin, the rough wood of the dock planks biting into his bare feet.
As he ran up the slanted gangway he heard a car engine turn over. He jerked open the gate and ran out into the lot just as a car sped through the exit, its tires squealing as they lost grip on the cold asphalt. McCaleb watched it go. It had been too far away for him to get the plate.
“Shit!”
He closed his eyes and brought his hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was a self-hypnosis technique. He tried to commit as many details of what he had just seen to active memory. Red car, small, foreign, worn-out suspension… It occurred to him that the car was familiar. But he couldn’t place it yet.
McCaleb bent over and put his hands on his knees as a feeling of nausea hit him and his heart seemed to bounce up into a higher gear. He concentrated on long, deep breaths and eventually he felt the beat slow down.
He felt light hit his closed eyelids. He opened his eyes and looked into the beam of an approaching flashlight. It was the marina’s security guard, pulling up in his golf cart.
“Mr. McCaleb?” the voice behind the light asked. “That you?”
