You’re going too far, Ezekiel cautioned. You’re going to tire yourself out.
Malichai would have protested that he was old enough to decide for himself what was too far, too fast, or too anything, but he heard the underlying worry in his older brother’s voice. He owed everything to Zeke. Malichai knew he had to give his brother this, whether the entire ordeal of being shot by machine gun had gotten to him or not. The injuries had definitely gotten to Zeke.
Coming back in now, Malichai assured. I’ve slowed down and should be in the right spot for the attack in another five.
I’m watching from a distance and haven’t spotted a diver in the water, Mordichai reported, all business now that Malichai might really be in danger.
Malichai took his time, feeling his muscles contract and stretch. He concentrated now on sound underwater. He had excellent hearing thanks to the physical enhancements Whitney had given him—without his consent. Still, at times those enhancements came in handy. The fact that those enhancements made him different enough to scare people in high places didn’t matter when they saved his life.
He and his team would never be like other soldiers. He would always be classified. No government wanted to admit to experiments on children, especially if those children were sometimes given cancer or other diseases in the name of science, or even terminated because they were deemed too dangerous. The GhostWalkers had learned that although they were soldiers and identified themselves that way, they couldn’t allow others to know what they really were. That meant they stuck together, formed their own families for protection. They lived close to one another and relied on each other rather than those above them who were directing their missions.
He heard a peculiar noise as he swam toward shore, much like something scraping against rock. It was near the same place where Dozer had been attacked. A small shelf rose from the ocean floor, rock crusted with sea life. A man in a wet suit complete with scuba gear shot off the rock right toward him as he swam past.
Malichai allowed the diver to get up on him. He came in from behind, attempting to circle Malichai’s neck in a choke hold. They wanted it to appear to be a simple drowning. Not murder. No one wanted an investigation, not after the deaths of Anna and Bryon Cooper. Malichai caught his arms and rolled, throwing the attacker off him.
They faced each other under the water, Malichai without a breathing apparatus. The diver was confident he could keep Malichai beneath the surface and he would drown trying to get up to the air. Malichai dove at the diver, a burst of speed like an attacking shark, going straight for the belly. At the last possible moment, he rolled over the man and ripped the hose connecting the tank to the mouthpiece. Bubbles rushed to the surface.
Hurry. You can take him now. If Mordichai didn’t get there fast, the diver would try to get away. He’s armed with a knife. There’s one strapped to his leg. I can remove it if you need me to.
No, I’m right behind him.
Mordichai came out of nowhere, right behind the diver, stripping the knife from him and catching his arms to drag them behind his back. He wasn’t alone. Trap dropped a loop around the man, tying him up fast. They dragged him farther away from the area where there were swimmers or surfers, all the while pressing air to his mouth, allowing him to take a breath every now and then.
Malichai continued a leisurely swim back to shore. He rose out of the water, his gaze sweeping the sand and lounge chairs. Over by the tree Billy Leven was talking to Craig Williams. They were gesturing toward the cordoned-off area where forensics was sifting through the fine grains of sand for any evidence that might help uncover who had killed Anna and Bryon Cooper.
As he dried himself off, still continuing his sweep, he spotted the older woman he’d spoken to earlier. She was with an older man. Both sat in chairs under a brightly colored umbrella, a small table between them. They seemed to be in a highly animated conversation.
Have the cops done a well check on Miss Crystal? Malichai sent the query to Rubin. He was supposed to be watching Amaryllis, Marie and Jacy. The well check had been requested from Amaryllis, giving the police a reason for entering her apartment and shop, asking questions. They didn’t need to wait.
Yes. Four people were in the apartment. One claimed to be Miss Crystal’s cousin. She is an older female, about sixty-five. Graying hair. She said Miss Crystal had asked them to stay in her apartment and run the magic shop until her return. Supposedly Miss Crystal is on a cruise to the Mediterranean. She gave the ship’s name and was confident the police could call the ship and the captain would confirm that she was on board.
Malichai thought that over. Was it possible that Miss Crystal really was alive and Anna and Burnell had misinterpreted what they thought they overheard? He pulled on his track pants, aware several people in the lounge chairs around him had noticed the raw, shiny scars crawling up his leg like a long zipper. Nothing made sense. Especially now that a diver had actually tried to drown him. Without a doubt the magic shop was tied in to the attacks on him and Dozer and most likely even the murders of Anna and Bryon. But how? And why?
He pulled on his T-shirt, wrapped the towel around his neck and set off in the general direction of the bed-and-breakfast. He angled across the wide expanse of sand and then, at the last moment, hesitated as if wondering if he should go right in, changed his mind and headed toward the little café where most of those staying at Marie’s got their caffeine fixes during the day.
Once out of sight of the first beach, he picked up the pace and hurried around a second and then third corner. Twice he backtracked to make certain he wasn’t being followed. He ended up in the small garage just off a house his brother Ezekiel had found to rent. That was like Zeke. He always found the perfect place for any occasion that might come up.
Mordichai let him into the darkened room. They had a hood over the diver’s face. Ezekiel glanced up but didn’t say anything to Malichai. Instead, he turned back to the diver.
“I take that hood off your face, you’re a dead man. Do you understand me?”
The head bobbed up and down. The diver’s breathing was harsh and ragged.
“Why did you try to drown Dozer and then Malichai? I’m warning you, I’m not going to ask again. You don’t tell me what I want to know, the hood comes off, we do this the hard way and then you die. You got that?”
The head bobbed again. “I got orders. I do what I’m told.”
“Who gave you the orders?”
“I don’t know. I have a business. I’m an independent contractor and I don’t meet with clients. I just get the money up front and I carry out the order. If the order isn’t carried out, then I keep going until it’s done. That surfer should have been an easy target, but he wasn’t. They hardly paid much of anything for him. When I missed, I just returned the money. They were pissed as hell.”
“They?” Ezekiel pounced on that.
“Well, yeah. There are at least two of them. They type out the orders and send them over the computer. It’s encrypted, but I can tell it isn’t always the same man. They use different phrasing.”
Someone doing business the way this man did would pay attention to something like that. He hadn’t hesitated either, searching for a reason. He readily gave one. Malichai was certain he was telling the truth.
“Why did they want the surfer and then the soldier drowned?”