“Not at all,” the voice of Yevgeny Chekhov replied in English. “We all speak English here.” They droned on with small talk, and Stone grew drowsy.
Stone did not know how much time had passed before Lance jabbed at his thigh with a hard object. He snapped to, and sat very still. A small outboard motor could be heard. It got farther away, then apparently, came around the bow of the big yacht and started aft, because it was getting louder. Clearly, someone was looking for someone else, like Stone and Lance. “How fast will this thing go?” he whispered to Lance.
“I’m letting go of this line. Drive all the way around the yacht slowly, keeping her on your right, until we get back here.” Lance pulled the painter aboard, and Stone did as he was told. Halfway up the port side of the hull, they came to a boarding ladder with a small pontoon affixed to it. “Don’t stop,” Lance said. “We’re not going aboard.”
“You’re damned right we’re not,” Stone said, speeding up slightly. They were around the bow and headed astern before they heard the outboard stop, apparently at the boarding ladder.
“Back to where we were,” Lance said, and Stone complied. Shortly, they were tied up astern again.
The group at the stern was making noises about turning in, mostly in Russian, then Stone heard Betty’s voice again.
“Yevgeny, may I speak to you for a moment?”
“Of course,” Chekhov said.
“It’s about Vanessa. I want you to know that you have nothing to fear from her.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Betty.”
“I’ve moved out of her apartment, back into my own place, and I’ll be leaving her company when I get back.”
“Yes?”
“The two of us are not on speaking terms at the moment. I want your personal assurance that nothing will happen to her.”
“You’re sure about this?”
“Absolutely. She and I have never discussed anything about our arrangement. The poison was a great mistake.”
“That was Peter’s doing. He didn’t ask me.”
“The only time you and I have discussed our relationship around her was when she was unconscious. I made sure of that.”
“I will take your word for that, Betty, on one condition: If she ever mentions our relationship, you must let me know immediately. Will you promise to do that?”
“I do promise, Yevgeny.”
“Then let’s get to bed,” he said. “You’ll be awakened early in the morning. The plane will be ready for us at ten o’clock.”
They went below. Stone could still hear them when they said good night.
“Time to go,” Lance said, freeing the painter.
Stone switched on the engine, put it in forward, and pointed it more or less south, in the direction of the harbor. They were, perhaps, a hundred yards from the yacht when Stone suddenly went blind.
“Jesus!” Lance said, ripping off his goggles and Stone’s, too. They heard an outboard start, a bigger one than before.
“I can’t see a thing,” Stone said.
“Spotlight,” Lance said. “You were pointed at the harbor before, so keep that heading. Just go faster. Your vision will gradually come back.”
Stone groped for the lever and shoved it halfway forward, the boat leaping. “How fast can we go?”
“Forty knots, but not for very long,” Lance said. “Can you see anything yet?”
Stone blinked his eyes rapidly. “Not yet.”
“Can you see our compass?” Lance asked.
“I think so.”
Lance reached down and moved the throttle all the way forward, while Stone held on to the wheel for dear life.
“Just keep the heading we were on,” Lance said.
“Right up until we come to a sudden stop,” Stone replied, “like, against a big rock.”
He heard something whistle past them in the air. “Bullet,” he said.
“Silenced weapon,” Lance replied.
The next one went through their windshield. Stone could see the compass now; he was off course but corrected.
61
The windshield took another round, making it harder to see through, but now Stone could make out the masthead lights in the harbor and the tall light at the marina, a couple miles away.
Lance looked back. “No further pursuit, but we’re blown. Time for Plan Zero.” He picked up his radio and spoke into it. “Plan Zero. Plan Zero. Plan Zero. Execute. There will be small arms fire.”
Stone steered toward Breeze now. He could see her clearly by the marina lights. “What’s Plan Zero?” he asked. A helicopter flew down the harbor at low altitude; lights were coming on aboard yachts.
“Plan Zero is to board Tsarina and capture all persons. No shooting unless absolutely necessary.”
“How far into the future does Plan Zero take us?”
“Until dawn,” Lance said. “Everyone who’s still alive will be transported to a secure facility; any wounded or dead will be attended to. Once secured, interrogation of those on board will commence. That will be helped along by the fact that we’ve recorded everything anyone on board has said for the past two days.”
Stone pulled up to the outboard side of Breeze, caught the hoisting cables, and hooked them up. “What can I tell Vanessa about her mother’s fate?”
“You can tell her that Betty has been detained for questioning. She’ll be given an opportunity to speak to an attorney. Then, if she tells all and agrees to testify, she won’t do more than a year of prison time, and that at the nearest thing we have to a country club prison.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“She’s our best shot, since she’s an American and has a life to go back to, unlike the others. If she doesn’t accept the plea deal, then she, along with all the others, will be transported to a very secure location, the name of which you would recognize but I can’t speak it.”
“Sounds like Guantánamo,” Stone muttered.
“I didn’t say that, and you didn’t hear it,” Lance said.
The runabout was hoisted onto the top deck by a winch and set gently into a cradle. Stone and Lance gathered their equipment and dropped it into a canvas bag that Lance produced. He kept his radio.
An edge of the sun seemed to rise from Chappaquiddick, to the east. They went down to the main deck, looking for breakfast. A crew member took their order.