“And then?”
“I tell him a bedtime story and give him a kiss good night. Ready?”
Lucy nodded, but he could read the fear in her eyes. It was not the first time he’d brought her along on a job, but it was the first time he’d enlisted her active participation.
He extinguished the lights and took up position beside the door, back against the wall.
Lucy swallowed hard, then opened the door. “Yes? Can I help you?”
Pierrot the security guard looked at Lucy, then shouldered his way past her into the bedroom. Simon stepped forward and punched him in the kidney, as painful a spot as there was, then placed him in a headlock, arm drawn savagely across the neck to impede the carotid artery and cut off the flow of blood to the brain. Pierrot struggled but was no match for surprise and superior strength. His body went limp. Simon lowered him to the floor, removing his earpiece and lapel microphone.
“Pierrot, ça va?”asked a rough voice.“Qu’est-ce qui se passe?”
“Tout va bien,”answered Simon, his French that of a native.
“C’est toi, Pierrot?”
Simon frowned, dropping the microphone and earpiece onto the floor. That was a fail. “Time to move.”
Carrier in hand, he guided Lucy into the corridor, turning left and advancing down the narrow hall before descending a flight of stairs. The music grew louder. The din of excited voices reached them as the dance floor came into view. A man in a dark suit identical to Pierrot’s pushed his way toward the stairwell. Simon stopped. Options for escape were dwindling rapidly. Turning, he told Lucy to retrace her steps, placing a hand in the lee of her back. “Faster.”
Lucy ran up the stairs, pausing at the top to remove her shoes.
“To your right,” said Simon, praying that his memory of the location’s layout held up.
A glance over his shoulder proved the security guard was following. Ten feet away a door blocked their progress. Lucy struggled to open the latch.
“Let me.” Simon threw the lock, sliding the door open. A stiff breeze rushed over them. A spray of water. The sharp scent of salt, brine, and rain. “After you.”
Lucy stepped onto the fourth deck of the ship, seventy feet above the Mediterranean Sea. Two miles distant, across an expanse of sea, the lights of Juan-les-Pins and Cannes glimmered like diamonds. “Which way?”
“Aft.” Simon noted Lucy’s puzzled gaze and pointed to the rear of the vessel. “That way.”
The vessel was theYasmina,a 503-foot mega-yacht built by Blohm+Voss shipyards of Hamburg, Germany, with a crew of seventy, including two full-time skippers and room for thirty guests, powered by a triple-screw diesel engine with a maximum speed of thirty knots and a range of three thousand miles.
Lucy jogged across the deck, stopping alongside the elevated helipad. Simon stared into the night sky, hope over reason. A gust knocked him back a step. He saw no flashing lights, only a bank of clouds approaching from the Maritime Alps. There would be no miracles tonight.
Behind them, the security guard emerged onto the deck, pistol drawn and held to his thigh. “Excuse me, monsieur. Would you mind stopping for a moment?”
Simon deftly handed Lucy the carrier. “Oh, hello. Is there something the matter?”
The guard spoke a few words into his lapel mike, then holstered his weapon inside his jacket. “Can you both accompany me?”
“We were just enjoying the night air,” said Simon, as a drop of rain struck him in the eye.
“Of course you were. I’m sure it won’t take more than a minute.”
Simon looked toward Lucy. “Honey, can you come here? This gentleman would like to have a word with us.”
“Really? What for?” A look of confusion for Simon. A smile for the security guard. She took Simon’s hand and leaned her head against his shoulder.
Not bad, thought Simon. Not quite ready for the BBC production ofRomeo and Juliet,but well done, all the same.
“Happy to,” he said to the guard. “We just left the auction. I never knew dinner and a boat ride could cost so much.”
“I’m sure Mr. Sun will be grateful.”
“I certainly hope so.” As Simon spoke, he stepped toward the guard, placing one foot inside his stance, then attacking—as nimble as a cat, as fast as a cobra—taking hold of the man’s lapels, pivoting sharply, launching him over his hip and shoulder, and out over the railing of the boat. The guard’s cry and subsequent splash was drowned out by the pounding music emanating from the open-air dance floor. TheYasminawas underway, making 10 knots. In moments, the man had disappeared in the roiling sea.
