“You kidnappedme.”
“Aye,” hereplied, softly.
I sighed,leaning against him as I let him comfort me. “But I’m not afraid of you,” Isaid with a yawn.
“I hope not.”
“Why am I notafraid of you?” I asked. “Am I suffering from Stockholm Syndrome?”
He laughed. “Nolove. We’re a long way from Sweden.”
“If it’s notStockholm Syndrome, then what’s happening to me?”
“How about wecall it ‘Inverness Influenza?’ And on Doctor’s orders, you need to get somesleep.”
“What about myfather? What am I supposed to do about him?”
“How about yourest here tonight and then tomorrow we’ll figure out what to do.” He stroked myhair. “Sound good?”
I nodded intohis chest. “I suppose so.”
“Come on. I’lltuck you in.”
I let him walkme back to the bedroom and I’m pretty sure he used another sleep suggestionbecause I don’t even remember my head hitting the pillow.
* * *
Gavin Trask
I stood on the deck of the SSMerrily, staring out into the blackness of the night sea. This ship was one ofthree ‘ministry’ vessels the church owned and had seen better days. In truth,it was nothing more than a smugglers’ ship crewed by members of the Moroccanmafia, used to ferry goods and people off the books.
As I listened tothe ship move through the waves, I replayed the night’s events over and over inmy mind as I thought about my next move and who I could trust to execute it.For now, I’d asked Miller to assemble the men below while I got some air. Itwas the first time I’d had a chance to stop and think since everything wentsideways. I didn’t know who screwed this operation up, but I was going to findout, even if it meant getting blood on my hands.
“The men areassembled, Pastor,” Miller said, from behind, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Thank you, Mr.Miller, I’ll be right there,” I answered without turning around. Miller was mylongest serving member of the security ministry and had never given me reasonto question his loyalty or commitment to the cause, but until I knew exactlywho’d screwed the pooch on this mission, I couldn’t rule anyone out entirely.
I made my waybelow to the ship’s crew’s barracks where Miller, Mundy, Kirkland and hiscontractors all stood at attention outside their bunks.
“At ease,gentlemen. Grab a seat and listen up,” I said. “You’d all better get nice andcomfortable because we’re going to be aboard this rusty old shit bucket for atleast a week. Until we rendezvous with the Moroccan cargo tanker that will sailus the rest of the way to New York. And before you get excited about theupgrade in rides, you should know the crew of the tanker has been at sea forthree months straight, so you’re all gonna have to sleep light, and stay out ofthe shower.”
One ofKirkland’s mercenaries unsheathed his knife. “When I find the rat bastard whosold us out, I’m gonna—”
“Pipe down,Rambo, and put that pig sticker away before you cut yourself,” I snapped.“Trust me. If I find out anyone on this boat had anything to do with our failedmission, I’ll personally make sure they’re shark food. The only one missingfrom the team is Cavanaugh, so we have to assume the freaks captured him.”
“If they torturehim, he’ll talk,” Miller said.
I waived himoff. “He’d talk if they slapped him with a wet bus pass. But I doubt it’ll cometo that. No, I think old Stuart’s in on it.”
“But you made adeal with him. Why would he double-cross us now at the last second?” Millerasked.
“Because Stuart Cavanaughis a coward and a weakling, that’s why. He was weak enough to allow the demonof cancer to enter his body. He was weak enough to allow us to put him downlike a dog instead of facing that demon, like a real Christian man, and he wastoo weak to keep his word to me in the end.”
“What are yougoing to do about him?” Miller asked.
“Church matterswill remain private, Mr. Miller. Let’s focus on the mission.”
“What the fuckare you talking about? The mission is over,” Kirkland said.
