Dressed all in black, the masked man tested the rope by moonlight, grateful for the light in one way, but also hoping no sleepless passenger came up on the deck and spotted his companion and him. “You know what to do, right?” he asked the woman in a low-pitched voice.
She nodded, and her voice was just as hushed when she said, “As soon as you land on the balcony and release the rope, pull it up and get rid of the evidence. Then head down to the bottom deck and prepare to launch the lifeboat you selected.”
The plan was simple. Break into Savannah’s stateroom, hopefully without waking her. Chloroform her. Remove his mask; he couldn’t risk having someone see him disguised in the hallways as he carried her from her room to the lifeboat. Then bind her hands and feet and apply the gag to her mouth once they were there. Launch the boat with the help of his pseudo-wife, leaving her on board to pretend he was sick in their cabin as the reason for his absence the next morning.
Assuming all went as planned, once he’d transferred Savannah to his men waiting on shore, all he had to do was make his way to the next port of call, Qutang Gorge, and reboard the boat while everyone was sightseeing in the Lesser Three Gorges. Then finish the cruise as if nothing had happened.
He’d been waiting, somewhat impatiently, for his first opportunity, transmitting instructions via cell phone to his Chinese hirelings on land to continue following the boat’s path as it made its way down the Yangtze River. He’d exulted when he’d observed Niall Johnson leave Savannah at her door and head to his own cabin, after which he’d cobbled this makeshift plan together.
Good thing I planned for most contingencies, he thought, mentally patting himself on the back.
He climbed over the railing, the rope securely fastened in a sling beneath his shoulders and warned the woman, “Don’t screw it up,” as he walked himself down the side of the boat. The rope played out smoothly from the passive arrestor mechanism he’d smuggled on board along with the rope. It didn’t take long since his target’s balcony was only one deck below the top.
He landed without a sound. He slid the rope out from under his arms and tugged it hard three times to signal he was safely down, and it hissed its way back up the side of the boat. He pulled his set of lock picks from his pocket and was just reaching for the balcony door when something metal clanged off the railing behind him before hitting the water below with a splash.
* * *
Savannah woke instantly. She didn’t know what the sound was she’d heard, but she knew whatever had caused it wasn’t normal. Had something hit the boat? She scrambled out of bed, and that’s when she saw the dark shadow of a man cast by the light of the moon through the drapes covering her balcony door.
She frantically pounded on the wall between her cabin and Niall’s. Then she grabbed her robe from the foot of the bed where she’d left it and was in the corridor in a flash, even before she could put it on.
Niall met her there. Just as the first night, he was bare-chested, wearing only jeans that weren’t fully fastened and revealed what would in other circumstances be a tantalizing glimpse of hair that arrowed downward. She was distracted from her terror for a moment by the realization that Niall must always sleep in the nude, not just when he was with her. Then she shoved that thought out of her mind. “Someone was trying to get in through my balcony door,” she whispered, conscious of the sleeping occupants of the other cabins on Deck Five.
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Stay here.” He vanished into her stateroom, but Savannah followed, determined to be his backup just in case, and struggling to drag her robe on over the T-shirt that barely grazed the tops of her thighs.
Niall had her balcony door open and was examining the lock when she entered. “Untouched,” he told her. “I can dust for fingerprints, but...”
“I saw him,” she insisted, thinking he didn’t believe her.
“Him?”
“Well, I can’t swear it was a man. I just saw a shadow against the drapes. But it was taller than I am and it looked like a man, so I logically assumed it was one.”
He nodded, but she wasn’t sure she’d convinced him someone really had been trying to enter her stateroom. “I’m not making this up, Niall. I’m not so desperate for you I’d invent a story about a break-in to—”
He clasped his hands over her shoulders, cutting her off. “You’re trembling.”
She squeezed her eyes shut for a couple of seconds, then opened them again. “I was terrified. I still am.”
He lifted a hand and touched two fingers against the pulse at the base of her ear. “You are,” he agreed. “Your pulse is racing, and it’s not because you’re turned on.”
She choked on laughter quickly suppressed. “Umm, no. You’re right. I’m not. Turned on, that is.” She looked up at him, so reassuringly male, and said, “I know it’s an imposition, but I have to ask. Would you sleep in the other bed the rest of tonight? I’m not trying to...to seduce you or anything like that. I just don’t want to stay here by myself. Just for tonight,” she assured him when his eyes widened in disbelief.
“Are you kidding me? You think I have any intention of waltzing back to my cabin as if nothing happened?”
“I thought you didn’t believe me,” she said, her words a faint thread of sound.
He held his hand up as if to stop her. “Let’s get one thing straight. Even if I didn’t believe you—which I do, by the way, for reasons I’ll explain in a minute—you believe it happened. It scared you so much you’re still shaking. What kind of sorry excuses for men have you known that make you think a man could just walk away from a woman in that state?”
When she didn’t respond, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her head against his shoulder. “Never mind. I don’t give a damn about them. But I do give a damn about you. So for as long as you need me, I’m yours.” He released her, saying, “Let me just run next door for some more clothes, but I’ll be back in a minute. Will you be okay or do you want to come with me?”
“I think I can survive on my own for a couple of minutes,” she said with a dry twist to her tone. “But before you go, would you tell me why you believe me?”
“Oh that.” He paused. “What woke you?”
She thought for a moment. “There was a noise. I can’t really explain, but it sounded as if something hit the boat. Something metallic.”
He nodded. “I heard it, too. I didn’t see the man on your balcony, but I was already awake when you pounded on the wall.”
“That’s why you believe me?”
“That, combined with everything else that’s happened, and yeah. I think whoever’s after you saw me leave you at your door and go into my cabin, and realized that left you unprotected. Something they were quick to take advantage of.”
“Which means whoever it is,” she said slowly, “their room is probably on this deck.”
The flash of admiration she’d noted before was back in his eyes, and he said softly, “You’re always on target, Dr. Whitman.”
It wasn’t until Niall had gone to his cabin for his clothes that Savannah realized this wasn’t the first time he’d called her Dr. Whitman. And she’d never told him she was one.
* * *
“What the hell happened?” the man demanded of the woman when he finally returned to their stateroom after scrambling down from Savannah’s balcony to the ones directly below it in quick succession, until he’d reached the bottom deck, where there was no balcony. He’d hastily removed the mask and gloves, then surreptitiously made his way back upstairs.
“It wasn’t my fault, honest. I’d pulled up the rope and coiled it in preparation for disposing of it. I was trying to unhook the passive arrestor mechanism from the railing when it slipped out of my hands. It’s heavy, you know,” she threw at him when his face turned accusatory.
“I told you not to screw up.”
“I couldn’t help it!”
“We may never have a better chance than we had tonight.”
“I couldn’t help it, I tell you!”
“I’m docking your share of the payoff.”
“What?” she gasped.
“Don’t argue with me.” His voice was cold. Ruthless. “Just be thankful I’m not dispensing with your services completely.”
* * *
Savannah shifted restlessly in the dark, unable to sleep for a variety of reasons. She and Niall had reported the incident to the ship’s captain and purser. Even though they believed the attempted break-in was another kidnapping attempt, Niall had thought it best to go on the record with it anyway. The noise and her reaction had thankfully scared the intruder off, he’d told her, but he didn’t want to give the impression they knew the true motive. So it was important to set up a hue and cry that would make their suspects think she and Niall thought it was an attempted robbery...or even a possible sexual assault.
That had been an awkward conversation, she remembered now. The captain and the purser, hastily called from their beds, had stood in her stateroom and listened to everything with impassive faces, although their profuse apologies and repeated statements that this would be looked into immediately betrayed how horrified and embarrassed they were something like this had happened on their watch. Passenger safety was of paramount importance to the cruise company, they assured her.
She and Niall had put on jackets and had gone up to the top deck after the captain and purser had left, where they’d discovered more circumstantial evidence that there really had been someone trying to break in. In the eerie blue-white moonlight, they’d found scratch marks on the otherwise pristine white paintwork on the railing right above her balcony. Something had been clamped there, and Niall had theorized it was some kind of mechanical lowering device. Whatever it was, it was probably the thing that bounced off your balcony railing and woke us both up, before it fell into the water below.
She’d shivered at the reminder of how nearly she hadn’t awakened. If the kidnapper had managed to enter her stateroom in silence, where would she be now?
And if those memories weren’t enough to keep her from sleeping, there was also the question she’d wanted to ask Niall but hadn’t. How did he know? She kept turning over past conversations in her mind, but couldn’t recall ever having told him she was a PhD.
Could he have assumed she was because of her previous job and the fact that both her parents had been university professors? Maybe. But it was still an aberration. And if there was one thing she could never ignore, it was an outlier data point. Yes, sometimes those outliers were just that—bizarre, one-time occurrences that shouldn’t be factored into the equations. But sometimes they were indicative of a serious issue, one that needed to be taken into consideration in constructing the algorithms that were her life’s blood.
She’d just resolved to ask him about it in the morning when a deep voice from the other bed asked, “Can’t sleep?”
She turned over to face him, even though he was only a shape in the darkness and she couldn’t make out his features. “No.”
“Me, neither. I keep thinking about what almost happened...because of me.”
“Because of you? That’s silly. It’s not your fault someone wants to kidnap me.”
“No, but it is my fault you were alone.”
“Oh, Niall.” She couldn’t help the hint of chiding in her voice. “You’re not responsible for the whole world.”
“I never said I was.”
“You’re sure acting like it.”
He laughed abruptly. “Okay, so maybe I internalize too much. Is that a crime?”
She didn’t know why she did it—was it something in his voice?—but she slipped from beneath the covers of her bed and slid under his.
“What are you—” His question turned into a moan when she found him with her hand and gently squeezed, then began stroking when his body responded like a house on fire. “I can’t, Savannah,” he said finally, after she’d already confirmed he could.
“Really? Because that’s not the impression I’m getting.”
His hand covered hers, stopping her. “This isn’t what you want. I’m not what you want.”
“I think I can make that decision for myself, thank you very much.”
He rolled them over so suddenly it took a second for her equilibrium to adjust, and she had to let him go to hang onto his shoulders until her head stopped spinning.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice was so low she wasn’t sure she heard him correctly. Then, as if the words were torn from him, he added, “Don’t fall in love with me, please. I’ll only break your heart.”
A sudden realization jolted through her, and she briefly considered telling him it was too late, she’d already fallen. But she didn’t. Instead she said in her gentlest voice, “You’ve given me wings, Niall. A broken heart’s a small price to pay.” And she kissed him.
* * *
Niall was up with the dawn. Savannah was still asleep, so he carefully disengaged his body from hers and dressed quietly. He dragged his laptop out and sat on the balcony to enjoy the sunrise and the beauty of the Qutang Gorge the boat was traversing on the Yangtze River while his laptop powered up...and while he dissected the latest kidnapping attempt.
His pool of suspects had just been winnowed dramatically. Savannah had theorized last night that the stateroom belonging to the kidnapper or kidnappers had to be on the aft side of Deck Five, where their rooms were located. He agreed with her theory, because how would they have seen him leave otherwise?
And there were no passenger rooms on the bow side—that was all taken up by the Observation Lounge and Bar. So now all he had to do was cross-reference the couples on their tour bus with their respective cabin assignments. Whoever was on their tour bus who also had a Deck Five stateroom had just moved to the top of his suspect list.
He connected to the VPN and dashed off a missive to his boss, requesting he use whatever pull their agency had with the tour company to get the list of cabin assignments on Deck Five. He knew it was very likely he could bribe someone on board to get the list—the maids probably had it, and they were notoriously underpaid. A few hundred yuan to one of them just might work. But he’d only do that as a last resort. If he guessed and guessed wrong, he’d have to answer a lot of awkward questions from senior ship personnel. And after last night’s conversation with the captain and the purser, it might make them suspicious of the motive behind Savannah’s report.
Then he checked his incoming email. To his surprise, there was an encrypted one from his sister. He hadn’t expected results on Spencer Davies and DMFC so soon. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since he’d emailed her, and day here was night there, and vice versa.
He decrypted the email, trying but failing to contain the little buzz of excitement. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d told Savannah Keira was a whiz at research. What had she found?
He read her careful disclaimer with impatience. Yeah, yeah, yeah, he thought. I get that this is all preliminary and you need to confirm it from other sources. Just get to the point.
And the point was...Davies Missiles and Fire Control was in serious financial trouble. They’d lost several big competitive contracts in the last year, just as Savannah had said. But that wasn’t all. Their bread-and-butter missile, the one they’d been selling to the DoD forever with just minor upgrades every year, had just been made obsolete...by Savannah. By a breakthrough design for which she’d almost assuredly receive a fourth patent.
It’s not common knowledge, Keira wrote, but the DoD is scrambling to find a way to keep DMFC afloat. You know as well as I do that the government tries its best to keep defense contractors in business, to keep competition alive and prices down. But the DoD can’t continue fielding that obsolete missile, especially since it has already been involved in three friendly fire incidents.
“Holy crap,” he whispered. Usually that occurred when the friendly target was mistakenly identified as an enemy one. But sometimes, as appeared to be the case here, it was due to errors or inaccuracy.
Just imagine the public outcry, Keira’s email continued, if it got out that the DoD knew the missile was obsolete, but used it anyway...and another friendly fire incident occurred. Bottom line? DMFC is teetering.
A four-letter word Niall never used in polite company issued from his lips. He’d thought from what Savannah had told him that DMFC was in hot water, but he hadn’t realized it was this bad. Which meant it made perfect sense that Spencer Davies would want Savannah...any way he could get her. Davies had tried to hire her, wasn’t that what she’d told him? And when Davies couldn’t lure her into coming to work for his company, he’d concocted this scheme to kidnap her.
Hold on a sec, he told himself. Don’t jump to conclusions. How the hell could Davies think he could get away with it long-term? But as soon as the question surfaced, something niggled at the back of his mind. Something Savannah had said about Davies. What was it?
Then it came to him... Because he and his company have a reputation in the defense industry for taking shortcuts, and I don’t like that. Shortcuts are shortsighted in my opinion...
A cold, sinking feeling settled over him, and he cursed again. “Davies doesn’t give a crap about the long-term,” he whispered as the hard truth settled in. “He wants Savannah to salvage his obsolete missile somehow, some way. But he can’t afford to keep her alive after that. Too dangerous.”
He didn’t even realize his right hand had clenched so tightly it was bloodless until he felt the nails on that hand digging into his palm. He relaxed it immediately, but stared at his hand for a moment, thinking about the ultimate fate planned for Savannah. “Not in this lifetime,” he promised himself. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
A rustle from inside the room informed Niall Savannah was finally waking up. He quickly logged off his computer and shut it down. He’d have to tell her about this latest development and the conclusions he’d drawn, and they needed to make some plans. But first things first. First he needed to make love to her. Then he’d tell her Spencer Davies intended to kill her.