Chapter 35
Harm hit the AV room at a run, skidding to a ragged stop next to the two main consoles. Baggy took one look at his face and turned completely to face him, his expression filling with alarm.
"Bring up Ariel's cabins," Harm ordered, unconsciously falling back into military mode. "You got it done, right?"
Baggy nodded, and Harm felt a small measure of relief. At the same time, Bob Schliegler jumped to his feet and came over, his stance indignant.
"Contestants aren't allowed in this area! You're going to have to leave." He reached over to grab Harm's arm. Harm shook him off, his eyes never leaving the screens. The two main screens now showed the interiors of the two cabins. Both were pristine and empty.
Schliegler grabbed his arm again. "You're going to have to leave, Mr. Rabb!"
Harm had neither the time nor the patience to spare. He whipped out the Beretta, pressing the muzzle against Schliegler's breastbone.
"Back. Off." He enunciated each word carefully and clearly. However, since he didn't really want to shoot the pompous jerk, he left the weapon's safety on. Schliegler didn't look like he knew enough about handguns to know the difference.
Schliegler's eyes turned into saucers. He backed away, stammering in terror. Harm waved him toward his chair. "Sit down and stay out of the way. Understood?"
Schliegler nodded and sank into his seat. Harm turned back to the console.
"What are we looking for?" Baggy asked him after a moment of stunned silence. The other three techs on the shift gathered around to watch the screens.
Harm returned the gun to his waistband. "Mac." He bit his lip against the wave of sick terror that threatened to engulf him. "Ariel's got her, but he changed the plan so I don't know where she is, or what he intends to do with her."
Baggy motioned for one of the other techs to take the seat in front of the other console. "I'll take A through D decks, you do E through G and the maintenance areas," he said.
The other man nodded. Images began cycling through on multiple screens while the gathered crew watched.
"Look for Ariel, too," Harm added, his voice tight from the effort of keeping himself under control. "He can tell me where Mac is."
Baggy nodded. "Right-O."
As the screens flashed, Harm recalled the satellite phone in his other hand. Growling curses at his own stupidity, he dialed Webb's number.
After three rings, it picked up. "Webb."
"Clay, I need that response team."
"What?" Webb's voice held a clear note of alarm. "What happened?"
"Ariel's got Mac, but he didn't follow the game plan. At the moment, I can't find her. Or him." Harm gripped the back of Baggy's chair so hard the edge bit painfully into the backs of his knuckles. He barely noticed.
Clay didn't waste any time. "All right. We're on our way," he told Harm. "See you in fifteen."
"We?"
Clay snorted. "Yes, 'we'." His tone said he thought Harm was an idiot for even asking.
And that, strangely enough, gave Harm a sense of hope. His friends never let him down when it mattered most. He cut the connection.
"Anything?" he asked the techs and received twin head shakes.
Harm went back to watching the camera feeds, his brain frantically sorting through everything he knew about the case. The answer had to be there, somewhere.
"Wait." A small detail lodged in his thoughts. It was just a hunch, but he'd learned to trust his hunches. They were rarely wrong. "Have you seen Nikki Upton on here?" He gestured toward the screens.
The tech at the other console narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Uh… yeah. I think so." He spun his trackball, sending one of the small screens through a flurry of images. He slowed the spin, eventually coming to rest on a single image.
"There," he said, pointing to the screen where Nikki could be seen lying sprawled on her bed. "Looks like she's sleeping in her room."
Harm stared at the tiny, peaceful form. Why was this bugging him? "Put it on the main screen."
The tech did so, and Harm leaned forward to peer more closely at the picture. He noticed the unhealthy white caste to her skin and her blue lips immediately. His breath caught.
"She doesn't look too good," the tech commented. Harm could tell he didn't really understand the import of what he was seeing.
Harm closed his eyes for a moment, then straightened. He felt suddenly old and very, very afraid.
"She's dead."
#
When Mac came to, she found herself lying in a warm bath. The tub was very full, the water covering her entire body except for her head and the tops of her bent knees. She was naked, but that was to be expected in a bathtub.
She looked around, taking in details without attaching significance to them. A showerhead emerged from the wall opposite her like the head of a metallic snake. The walls themselves were tiled in white, with sets of four smaller green tiles forming diamond-shaped patterns. Two white towels hung from a rack above her head. She didn't see any bottles of soap or shampoo lining the edges of the tub.
A small noise attracted her attention. She turned her head to find a man kneeling next to the tub, his attention on something on the floor in front of him. He looked up when she moved.
"Well, hello, Mac. I didn't expect you to wake up yet. How are you feeling?"
Mac stared at him. She wasn't feeling much of anything, which she tried to tell him but her mouth didn't seem to be working. Who was he, anyway? Considering her lack of clothing, maybe he was her lover. She didn't think so, though… she had better taste than that. At least, she thought she did. No, the word lover brought a different face to mind-- a strong, handsome face and the bluest eyes…
She was so involved in trying to figure out the blue-eyed man's name that she almost missed her companion's next words. He was shaking his head remorsefully.
"It's really too bad this had to happen," he told Mac with a short glance in her direction. "If Mr. Laughton hadn't had his nasty reaction to the drugs, everything would have been fine." He sat back on his heels. He held a pair of scissors in his gloved hands.
Mac stared at him in fascination. His form was beginning to waver, running like watercolors left out in the rain.
He flipped open the scissors and examined the edges. He tsked sadly. "It's such a shame." He glanced at her again, raising both eyebrows. "What's a shame, you ask? Why, your insane jealousy, Mac. Poor girl." He stroked her hair in sympathy. "You couldn't take seeing your husband spending all his time away from you."
The man reached down into the bath, emerging with Mac's left arm in his grasp. The air felt cold against her wet skin, making her shiver.
"See, first it was Mr. Laughton, and then pretty Ms. Upton. But you couldn't live with the guilt." He turned her arm wrist up, holding it in a tight grip. Then he took the scissors, jabbing one of the points into her wrist just above the bones, and ripping upward along her arm.
The searing flash of agony penetrated Mac's haze. She cried out, reflexively yanking her arm out of his grasp and leaving a splash of scarlet across the edge of the tub. Her arm dropped back into the bath with a soft plunk. After a moment, the warm water began to ease the stinging pain. Mac blinked. Tendrils of pink snaked through the bath water in convoluted whorls, beautiful in their own, terrible way.
Mac was a little more alert now. She let her eyelids sag most of the way shut, feigning drowsiness. She was in big trouble here, and if Ariel gave her any more drugs she would most likely be dead before she woke up again. She was afraid, though, that she might end up dead even if he didn't. She couldn't feel her body. She tried wiggling her toes, but couldn't tell if it worked.
Ariel dropped the scissors into the tub. Smart, Mac thought. No one would be surprised by a lack of fingerprints. Of course, he wasn't that smart. The forensics from this little escapade alone would probably convict him, even if she weren't available to testify. And if the warrants the FBI had gotten had resulted in anything, those would clinch the case. Of course, if she died, Ariel would never see trial. Harm would kill him, of that she was certain
And where was Harm, anyway? Why wasn't he breaking down the door to rescue her? Obviously, following Toby to her location wasn't going to work. Ariel had apparently scrapped that plan to cover his mistake with George. But there were cameras covering nearly every inch of the ship. Surely the AV people could find her pretty fast.
Then it dawned on her. She was in the bathroom, the one place on the ship where there were no cameras. Fear clenched her stomach and closed her throat. She was on her own.
Ariel took one of the towels from the rack above Mac's head to wipe off the blood that had gotten on his gloves.
"It won't be long," Ariel told her. Mac had a sneaking suspicion he was right. He knew enough to cut lengthwise, and if his cut had gone deep enough to get the artery, which she suspected it had, it wouldn't be long at all.
Ariel dropped the stained towel in a crumpled heap on the toilet lid as he turned away. "Goodbye, Mac."
Mac watched as he walked out of the bathroom, disappearing from view as he made his way to the cabin door. She heard that door open and close again, leaving her alone.
