Running Dark Part 30

Before Emma could respond, a whizzing sound came from the back of the crowd. A man yelped. She heard something hit the carpeted deck with a thud. The entire group turned around to look at the new disturbance. Emma took advantage of the moment to move up the stairs, backward, keeping her face to the crowd. Cindy stayed right behind her, moving in unison with her. From this position Emma had the added advantage of being above the men's heads and could see past them.

Sumner and Block stood at the far end of the hall. Emma made out the shape of a square device in Sumner's hand that looked like a gun with a boxy muzzle. His face held its usual determined look as he calmly went about reloading the weapon. Block looked far less calm. In fact, he looked furious. His color was as high as that of the men around him, but Emma thought it might be induced from pure rage rather than a drug.

"What the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing, pus.h.i.+ng a woman?" Block's voice pulsed with anger. Emma heard Cindy gasp. The men began to step toward him but stopped when Sumner held up the stun gun.

"Anyone comes closer and he gets to go lights-out courtesy of fifteen thousand volts."

The men stopped. Sumner flicked a questioning look at Emma. She nodded to let him know she was unhurt. A man from the center of the group yelled in a language that sounded like Russian.

"Sprechen Sie Deutsch?" Sumner said. The Russian s.h.i.+fted into German without missing a beat.

"Ja, drecksack! Get out of our way. We're going to the captain."

"You've all been drugged," Emma said.

The crowd fell silent and turned back to Emma.

"What do you mean, drugged?" The beer-bottle holder spit out the question.

"Just what I said. Someone on the s.h.i.+p is drugging the pa.s.sengers. I want you all to think-did you feel any type of stick or sting followed by a surge that might have been a chemical entering your system?"

A man in the center of the crowd spoke up. "I did. A guy fell against me. I felt the sting and the rush right after. I didn't think anything of it."

"What did he look like?" Emma asked.

The man, a younger pa.s.senger with ginger-colored hair and a large-framed body, hesitated. "He was a s.h.i.+p employee. He wore a white uniform. But I don't know which one."

Emma wasn't surprised at this information. Only s.h.i.+p employees had access to the cargo bay where the vials were located.

But before she could respond, the s.h.i.+p's alarm went off.

49.

BANNER STEPPED INTO THE VIP LOUNGE. THE VIBE HERE WAS completely different from the Eroscenter. This club evoked the feeling of men's social clubs in an era gone by. Heavy paneling covered the walls, dark velvet draperies lined each window, and leather chairs with matching ottomans faced a fireplace with an elaborately carved mantelpiece. The smell of old cigars and new cigarettes permeated the air. Three silver-haired men strolled past the reception desk, headed up a flight of carpeted stairs to the second level. As in the establishment before, the VIP receptionist was a somewhat beefy man. Banner stepped up to him to begin his rap.

"I'm-"

"Here to check out the poker game."

"The Eroscenter called you," Banner said.

The man nodded. "You'll need at least two thousand euros to join, but that will cover your initial chip allocation of five hundred, all your food and drinks, and one session with the girl of your choice after the game."

"Steep," Banner said.

The man shrugged. "It's a good game. You could win, and if you don't, at least you'll leave here fed and happy."

Banner chuckled. The man had a point. "Do you take credit cards?"

The man shook his head. "Not for this. The game's off the books. We need cash."

"I don't have it."

"There's an ATM down the street to the right."

"Don't they usually have five-hundred-euro limits?"

The man nodded. "Maybe you come back tomorrow. Least now you've seen the place."

"How about I give you five hundred cash? That will cover my chip allocation. I'll pay for food on the card, and I won't touch the women."

"You're gonna want to touch the women."

"I don't doubt that, but beggars can't be choosers."

The man considered the offer. "Okay. But you change your mind about the women, you're gonna have to leave the game and go to the main area of the club. They take credit cards."

"It's a deal."

The man pointed to the stairs. "Up there. Second door on your left. Give the guard the cash. Good luck."

Banner thought he'd need it. He headed up the stairwell. At the top was a long hall with several doors on either side. A young man reading a paper sat in a chair with its legs tilted and its back against the wall. He dropped the chair legs to the carpeting when he saw Banner and stood. Banner handed him five hundred euros. The young man opened the door.

"Play well," he said with a smile.

Banner stepped into a rectangular room. A circular table, positioned in the center, acted as a focal point. A stained-gla.s.s lamp hung over it, illuminating the green felt top. Five men sat with cards in their hands. Off to the right, three women, all dressed in thong bathing suits and high heels, hovered near a wet bar. They were model thin, on the verge of emaciation. Each one gave him an a.s.sessing look as he walked in, and each one smiled after the look.

Rickell was on the far side of the table. Deep circles rimmed his eyes, and his hair was plastered to his head as if by sweat. His skin was a pasty white, and his lips were cracked. He had a stack of chips in front of him, but something told Banner he wasn't winning. He didn't have the look of a winner. Banner stepped closer to the table, into the light. Two of the men glanced up from their hands with irritated expressions on their faces. He was interrupting a hand. Rickell never lifted his eyes from his cards. When the other men halted, Rickell looked up. His face took on a resigned expression.

"So they're searching for me," he said.

Banner nodded. "Time to go."

Rickell shook his head. "No."

Banner had expected this response. Rickell probably viewed himself as Banner's superior in many of the ways that counted. Without Rickell's signature, Darkview wouldn't land the lucrative DOD contracts that kept the company humming. Banner, however, viewed no man as his superior. Either they partnered with him in ventures where both gained something or they stayed away. Rickell's office had hired Banner to bring Rickell out, and that's what he'd do.

"We leave now. I haven't much time."

"No."

The men at the table waited, watching them both with interested eyes.

"I'll drag you out of here if I have to. I've been hired to get you, and, as you know, my company delivers. I can't afford to fail. Not given the current climate surrounding Darkview. Plus, I've got mouths to feed."

Rickell snorted. "You don't have any children."

Banner didn't bother to correct him. "I've got office and equipment costs, three hundred and twenty operatives worldwide, a vice president, and a secretary with an expensive tattoo habit who's putting herself through school."

The player to Rickell's right gave a soft laugh. He was one of the silver-haired men who had taken the stairs before Banner. His eyes sparkled with enjoyment. Banner was glad someone was having a good evening, because it certainly wasn't him. He took a step toward Rickell.

The men at the table s.h.i.+fted. The smiling man raised an eyebrow, lowered his cards to place them facedown on the felt, and spoke in German to the others. Their chairs sc.r.a.ped backward as the players stood. One of them indicated to the girls that they should leave.

"Schnell," he said. Even Banner knew that meant "fast."

The girls moved with an alacrity that impressed Banner, given the shoes they wore.

Rickell rose, staring at him the whole time. He was two inches shorter than Banner's six feet, but fit. Banner thought he'd be easy to beat. Unless the poison gave him superhero powers, Banner didn't view him as any risk in a fight. None at all. His only problem was going to be subduing Rickell without doing any real harm to him. He would have to pull all his punches.

"I could beat you, you know," Rickell said.

The other players' heads swiveled to watch Banner's response.

Banner kept a level stare. "You've got a lot of skills, Mr. Rickell, but fighting isn't one of them. You benefit from living in a country where the rule of law prevails. I've spent most of my life infiltrating those where none exists. It's going to be no contest."

The smiling man gazed at Banner with a look of respect. No one spoke.

Rickell waved at his chips. A man emerged from a darkened corner at the back of the room. He placed a holder on the table, counted out Rickell's chips, and wrote a number down on a pad of paper. He slid the pad toward Rickell and handed him a pen. Rickell signed the receipt without really looking at it.

"You keep that under lock and key?"

The banker nodded.

"Let's go," Rickell said.

Banner stepped aside. "After you."

The other players seemed to sigh in unison. The smiling man caught Banner's eye and nodded once. Banner returned the gesture.

They made it down the stairs, out the door, and into the narrow lane before they were attacked.

The man came out of nowhere. He raced toward Rickell, his hand outstretched. Banner caught a glimpse of a white-handled weapon in the man's right hand. Rickell stumbled back as the man hauled off to stab him. Banner threw himself between Rickell and the attacker, knocking the man's arm out of the way. He swung his left fist into the man's temple. The attacker grunted, falling back, his arms flailing. Two more men came around the corner.

"Rickell, move!" Banner said. Rickell scrambled up. His expensive leather shoes slipped on the pavement, forcing him down again. Banner grabbed him by the arm, propelling him upward and dragging him down the street, in the direction of his car. He heard the men's feet pounding behind them. Banner let go of Rickell while he pulled the ignition key out of his pocket. He hit the b.u.t.ton to open the doors. The taillights flashed in response.

"You see that?" Banner yelled to Rickell.

Rickell angled toward the vehicle.

Banner was a foot from the car when the men reached him. He swung around to face them. They were two swarthy-faced foreigners with undisguised hate in their dark eyes. One carried a knife. Banner tried to see if the other was armed, but the man's hand was covered in shadow. The knife wielder stepped forward, his hand flying out to stab. Banner stepped off the line of attack, grabbed the man's arm, holding it away from his body while he pulled back to punch the man with his right hand. The man tried to yank his arm out of Banner's grasp. Banner held it tightly while he pistoned his fist into the man's nose.

The sound of collapsing cartilage echoed through the narrow lane. The second man was on Banner, grabbing him around the neck, doing his best to haul Banner's face down toward the pavement. He plunged a needle into Banner's skin where the neck met the shoulder. Banner felt the surge of some unknown chemical enter his veins. His skin heated like it was on fire. It might have been adrenaline running in his system, but the force of it was unlike anything he'd felt before. He pulled out of the other man's grasp with an ease he shouldn't have possessed. The man had such a grip on Banner that the maneuver caused Banner's flesh to twist as he wrenched his throat free. He felt his skin abrade from the friction, creating a burn across the back of his neck.

The Eroscenter door flew open, and the manager catapulted out of it with a policeman's baton in his hand. He swung it in an arc, catching the first man across the arm that was still holding the knife. The attacker dropped the weapon with a cry of pain while blood poured out of his nose from Banner's punch. He was off, running back down the lane. The second man released Banner in an instant. He sprinted away, following the other guy. Banner stood still, his breath heaving. The pa.s.senger door on the car opened, and Rickell stepped out. He gazed at Banner but remained silent.

"Are you okay?" the manager said. "I saw you being attacked. The camera recorded it." He indicated the camera over the Eroscenter's door. Before Banner could answer, Frau Kartiner stepped out of the entrance, a worried look on her face. Behind her hovered the young c.o.c.ktail waitress.

Banner took a deep, steadying breath. The strange fizz ran through his veins, and his skin crawled. He wanted to continue fighting. When he saw Frau Kartiner, his urge to fight turned into something different. The force of his desire made his body heat up and his mouth go dry. He stared at her, unable to take his eyes off her.

Frau Kartiner's eyebrows flew upward, and she took a step back. Color suffused her face. The c.o.c.ktail waitress watched them both, but when she saw Frau Kartiner's face redden, she bestowed a fascinated look on her boss. The manager stared, too.

"Are you injured?" Frau Kartiner's voice was a whisper. Banner didn't trust himself to speak. What he needed was for her to move away.

"Thank you," Rickell said. The waitress and the manager turned to acknowledge him. Banner and Kartiner stayed frozen. "We'll be going now. Banner?" Rickell prodded Banner.

Banner swallowed a dry gulp. "I owe you all." He was surprised at how normal his voice sounded.

Frau Kartiner's face relaxed. She smiled a genuine smile. "You be careful. You are welcome. Anytime." She emphasized the "Anytime."

Banner slid into the driver's seat, put on his belt, and drove out of the narrow lane. After a minute of silence, while he negotiated his way through the busy area, Rickell s.h.i.+fted.

"Want to tell me what's going on?"

"We've been poisoned."

Rickell was silent so long that Banner thought he didn't hear him.

"What are the effects?" he said at last.

"I'm not sure. Some sort of heightened fight-or-flight response. Old behaviors renewed-it's why you gambled. Emma Caldridge, the chemist we're using for the cruise-line rescue, thought maybe it was an adrenaline by-product, or a dopamine enhancer, she wasn't sure."

"Was she poisoned, too?"

"Yes. As were Cooley, you, and now me. You have a jet at your disposal?"

"I fly commercial. Why?"

"I need to fly to Berbera, and I need the Redoubtable to pick me up."

"You found the cruise liner?"

"We did. It's under attack, but well outside the zone. We need to finish this thing."

Rickell hesitated.

"Don't give me any more international-law craziness. It's outside the zone. The insurgents can't reach it for the moment. Please arrange for the Redoubtable to send a helicopter to take me the rest of the way. It's about time we shut this whole pirate crew down."

"You had some intelligence about this s.h.i.+p before it sailed, didn't you?"

Banner nodded. "But it was incomplete. The German conglomerate that owned the s.h.i.+p thought maybe one of the crew was dealing drugs from various ports. We heard that a group of European arms traders were on the s.h.i.+p in preparation to attend an auction to buy some more product. I borrowed an agent from the Southern Hemisphere Drug Defense Agency to sail with the s.h.i.+p."