Operation: Midnight Rendezvous Part 15

For an instant he looked as shocked as she felt. Then his mouth slowly curved. "It'll be good."

Taking her hand, he ducked through the opening. Jess followed, her mind reeling, her body vibrating with the aftershocks of the kiss. She knew it was silly to be thinking about something as inconsequential as a kiss when they were about to risk their lives. But the truth of the matter was, there was nothing inconsequential about the way Madrid had kissed her.

There would be consequences.

He took her past a ma.s.sive fuel storage tank and a low, windowless steel building. Two hundred yards to her left were the lights of the guardhouse. Dead ahead, a cargo s.h.i.+p stood silhouetted against the night sky, its radar mast and wheelhouse jutting from an ocean of containers like a mountain of steel.

The hiss of tires against asphalt sent her heart into her throat. Headlights slashed through the darkness to her left. The next thing she knew she was being pulled toward a dozen or so fifty-gallon steel drums stacked haphazardly against a small building.

"Get down."

Madrid's voice registered at about the same time a firm hand pressed her head down.

Jess ducked. Her pulse raced wildly as she peered between two drums. An SUV with some type of logo painted on the door idled slowly past. A spotlight mounted near the mirror on the driver's side shone on the buildings as the SUV pa.s.sed. Inside the vehicle, she saw the silhouettes of at least two people.

"Who are they?" she whispered.

"Port police."

"Ironic that we have to dodge the good guys."

"Just because they're wearing the uniform doesn't mean they're the good guys." His hand tightened on hers. "This way."

The taillights of the SUV faded into the foggy darkness as they dashed across the asphalt toward the docks. There were four s.h.i.+ps docked at the small port, including the Xanadu Rose. One was a barge, and one a tanker. The only remaining s.h.i.+p at the far end of the dock was a rusty behemoth stacked sky-high with containers.

"What are we looking for?" she asked.

"We know the Xanadu isn't where the women are being held hostage." Madrid's eyes scanned the s.h.i.+ps as they walked the dock. "Another container s.h.i.+p would be my best bet."

The first s.h.i.+p they came to, the barge, was in the process of being unloaded. Huge cranes worked beneath ma.s.sive spotlights.

They skirted the loading zone, sticking to the shadows on the opposite side of the low building. The next vessel was the tanker, with a foreign flag. Avoiding a street lamp, they pa.s.sed the Xanadu and approached the final vessel. The ma.s.sive s.h.i.+p was in poor condition, but even in the semidarkness Jess could make out the name emblazoned on the hull.

"The Dorian Rae," she whispered.

"Looks deserted."

"The perfect place to run an illegal smuggling operation."

"One way to find out."

Taking her hand, Madrid looked both ways, then sprinted toward the Dorian Rae. Jess found herself dragged into a dead run. The s.h.i.+p loomed as large as a mountain as they drew closer. Ropes as thick as a man's arm were secured to giant cleats set into concrete. She could hear waves slapping against the concrete piers. The ma.s.sive vessel groaned like a ghost s.h.i.+p trying to free itself from its moorings.

They crossed to a primitive elevator used by s.h.i.+pping and U.S. Customs personnel, but the steel grid door was secured with a chain and padlock.

"What now?" Jess said.

"Piece of cake." Madrid dropped to his knees and dug into the duffel for the bolt cutters.

The chain snapped and clattered to the concrete. Giving her a look over his shoulder, Madrid slid open the door and stepped onto the platform. Fabricated with plywood and steel grid, the elevator had the appearance of being thrown together by less than talented construction workers. The only thing even remotely modern about it was the glowing Up b.u.t.ton next to the door.

"Going up," Madrid muttered, and hit the b.u.t.ton.

The car jolted and began its upward ascent. The wind whistled through the steel grid as the car climbed.

"What if someone sees us going up?" she asked.

"Let's hope that doesn't happen."

She was about to respond when a bell chimed and the elevator car jerked to a stop. When the door slid open, Jess started to move out of the car, but Madrid stopped her and went first. The elevator had opened onto a wide deck. Dead ahead, a dozen ma.s.sive containers were stacked like giant toys. To Jess's left stood a building of sorts that soared another thirty feet into the night sky.

"Where are we?" she asked.

He looked around, then up. "I'd say we're standing just in front of the aft deckhouse."

A shudder moved through her as she looked around. Rusty and dilapidated, the s.h.i.+p looked as though it hadn't been used in a very long time. "This place gives me the creeps."

"Especially if you think about what might be happening onboard."

"What do we look for?"

"Anything suspicious. A locked door or padlock. Signs of recent use. It would be helpful if we could find where the women are being held captive."

"Or the women themselves."

He nodded.

"Do you think they're here?"

"If they're lucky," he said darkly. "Come on."

Drizzle floated down from a black sky as they made their way toward the front of the s.h.i.+p. Fog hovered at the deck level. Ahead, more decrepit containers were stacked like old cars awaiting the crusher.

They entered a walkway. Containers rose from the deck on either side, conveying the impression of a narrow canyon. Madrid climbed a scaffold that took him to one of the lower containers. He tried the door.

"Locked." He rapped his fist against steel. "d.a.m.n it."

There was no way they could reach the upper containers. But, honestly, Jess didn't think the containers looked like the kind of place where smugglers would stow human cargo. They were too out in the open.

"What about below deck?" she asked.

"Things could get dicey if we get caught below deck."

Jess knew he was having second thoughts about including her in this mission. While the realization that he was concerned for her safety warmed her, she couldn't let it keep them from doing what they'd come here to do.

"Madrid, we can't pa.s.s up this opportunity. We've gotten this far. Let's look around and see what we find."

When he looked at her, his expression was so torn that for a moment she wanted to reach out, touch him, tell him everything was going to be all right. But Jess knew better than to give in to that kind of temptation at a moment like this. Another kiss like the one he'd given her earlier and she might just lose her head.

"There's no one on this s.h.i.+p, Madrid."

"You don't know that."

"We can't leave empty-handed."

"d.a.m.n it, Jess, I don't want you to end up like Angela."

The words rendered her speechless. Up until this moment he'd been operating on logic. Was it possible coolheaded Mike Madrid was experiencing some of the same emotions as she?

"Too many people I've cared about have ended up dead." He ground out the words as if to justify his earlier statement.

She did reach out then, a soft brush of her fingertips against his cheek. He winced as if her fingertips burned him. "Nothing is going to happen." She forced a smile she didn't feel. "We're the good guys, remember?"

"Sometimes that isn't enough."

"This time it has to be," she said.

He stared hard at her, nostrils flaring, his expression fraught with tension. "Fifteen minutes." His voice was so low she had to crane her neck forward to hear. "Then we're out of here even if I have to drag you. Believe me, I will."

Jess didn't doubt it, but there was no time to think of that now. "Let's go below deck."

Sighing as if in resignation, Madrid motioned toward the direction from which they'd come. "We pa.s.sed a hatch a ways back. Follow me. Stay close."

The only sound came from the soft tap of their shoes against the steel deck. The hatch was set into the fore-mast platform. An oval steel door complete with a wheel lock and rubber seal. Jess kept watch while Madrid went to work on the lock. Two minutes and the hatch creaked open.

Madrid turned to her before entering. "If anything happens, I want you to get back up on deck. If you can't get off the s.h.i.+p, I want you to jump overboard and swim. Follow the lights."

For the first time, the reality of what they were doing hit home. A quiver of fear every bit as cold and deep as the water surrounding them ran the length of her. "We're not going to get caught."

"What we're doing is foolhardy, Jess." Giving her a final hard look, he slid the flashlight from the duffel and ducked through the hatch.

Descending into the bowels of the s.h.i.+p was like descending into h.e.l.l. Only, this particular h.e.l.l wasn't hot and fiery. It was cold and damp and dark. The odors of garbage and salt.w.a.ter and diesel fuel filled the air as they reached the lower level.

The flashlight beam cut through the utter darkness to reveal a narrow horizontal corridor. Jess had never been claustrophobic, but she felt it pressing down on her now.

"This way."

Madrid's voice jerked her back from a place she knew better than to go. He went left and she followed close behind him. Somewhere in the distance she heard water dripping. In her peripheral vision, when the beam hit just right, she could see droplets streaming down the rust-covered walls.

A distant scream shattered the silence. Jess froze, her heart leaping into a wild staccato. Vaguely she was aware of Madrid stopping, too, and the flashlight beam disappearing. The uneasiness she'd felt earlier grew into a slow and cold fear that wrapped around her like the fingers of death.

"What the h.e.l.l was that?" she whispered into the darkness.

"Someone's on board. A female," came Madrid's voice. "And she's in trouble."

Judging from the terror resonating in the scream, the woman was more than in trouble.

She feared for her very life.

Chapter Eleven.

"Where did it come from?"

Madrid flicked the flashlight back on. "Hard to tell. A lot of echo in here. Probably this level."

He shone the light between them, and Jess crossed to him on shaking legs. For the first time she questioned the wisdom of coming here. Maybe he was right. This was a suicide mission. No way were they going to pull this off without getting caught.

She thought of the scream and shuddered. "They're hurting someone," she said.

Grimacing, Madrid shook his head. "Sounded that way."

The thought made her sick. "We can't let this continue."

"I know. d.a.m.n it." He glanced at his watch. "We'll give ourselves ten minutes. After that, we turn around. No matter what. You got that?"

"I got it."

Keeping the beam low, Madrid took her down the cavelike corridor. Behind him, Jess noticed his free hand resting on the pistol tucked into his waistband, as if he were expecting someone to accost them at any moment.

Midway down the corridor, they came to another hatch. The wheel lock was affixed with a s.h.i.+ny new padlock and chain.

"Lock looks new," Jess said.

"Let's see what they have to hide." Madrid slid the bolt cutters out of the duffel. The steel snapped and the lock hit the floor before he could catch it. Casting her a tense look, he turned the wheel lock. Two turns. Three. He nearly had the hatch open when the thud of approaching footsteps sounded.

He doused the flashlight, plunging them into darkness. "Where are they coming from?"

Jess's heart revved like a race-car engine. She looked around wildly, but saw only the endless black void. "I don't know." Within the steel belly of the s.h.i.+p it was difficult to tell where sounds were coming from.

Around them, the ancient s.h.i.+p groaned like the walking dead. Water dripped incessantly. Seconds ticked into minutes, but they didn't move.

"They're gone," Madrid whispered.

She touched his shoulder. "Open the hatch."

Steel ground against steel as he turned the wheel lock. An instant later the airtight hatch hissed open. "We're in."

She jolted when his hand closed around her arm and guided her through the hatch. The darkness inside was so complete she couldn't see her hand even if she held it an inch in front of her face.

Jess nearly sighed in relief when the yellow beam of the flashlight flooded the room. Her relief was short-lived. The room wasn't a room at all, but more like a dungeon right out of some medieval castle, with shackles and chains welded to the steel walls. The flashlight beam didn't reveal much, but from where Jess stood she counted ten sets of shackles for wrists and ankles s.p.a.ced about a foot apart. A drain was set into the floor. The stench of old urine hung heavy in the dank air.