Chapter 34
Where she once found splendor, Sally now saw deceit. Everything on Salvation II disgusted her. Her life was a mess. Everyone warned her about Daniel, but she wouldn’t listen, overwhelmed by his persuasive manner and religious façade. She had made up her mind. Once she stepped off of Salvation II (which she now referred to as False Hope), she would never return, nor would she ever see or speak to Daniel again.
Sally moved her few things down to a lower deck as far from Daniel’s stateroom as possible. She planned on getting a good night’s sleep and then to rise early to meet the taxi at the dock. Frisco followed her to the new cabin and seemed to have forgotten her earlier outburst. He jumped up, over, and next to Sally when she sat on the bed. “You’re a good friend Frisco and God knows, right now I need one.”
She rang up to first mate to let him know her whereabouts and then called the galley and asked the chef if he would mind bringing a sandwich for her and cubed steak for Frisco. After hanging up, she wondered if she would ever get Frisco to eat regular dog food after a few of the meals he’s had here.
She didn’t know if she could care for a dog full-time, so she told him if he ever settled down on dry land he could call her about bringing him home with him. After he left she knew she was just kidding herself. Frisco was her dog now, that is, if Shawn didn’t want him. Who knows, maybe Frisco would end up being both their dog.
The chef had said he didn’t mind bringing her and Frisco’s dinner down as it was a very quiet evening. The Captain had taken a few days off and flown back to California to visit his family and with Daniel over in Honolulu, he only to prepare meals for the two crew members who remaining onboard every evening, without too much exception.
The chef brought the meals down himself, probably so he could feed Frisco personally. The crew, he said, were busy. Like most high-profile celebrities with floating mansions or yachts, he told Sally, Daniel employed former military personnel as crew who doubled as security. He said he’d heard that the Octopus, the yacht owned by Paul Allen, co-founder of Microsoft, was almost exclusively staffed by former Special Forces and U.S. Navy Seals, but no one had ever been able to confirm this.
He gave Frisco a tussle and bid Sally good night, promising he would awaken her early so she would be ready on time to meet the taxi.
Well, she was glad they were here. The boat had so many dark passageways and compartments that once it became dark, as a rule, she never left her cabin. With the new knowledge about the staff onboard she snuggled up to Frisco. Can’t hurt to have men like that watching over you, she thought as she fell into a much-needed slumber.
While she slept and back on shore, Sally was unaware Craig had posted a third guard to keep an eye on Salvation. Although he gave her a grace period of twenty-four hours, which he had never done before with anyone, he wasn’t going to take the chance of her slipping out of town.
Let her rest, he thought, and when she does come around, she will be more cooperative, thinking it was her decision. Craig had not yet heard about Daniel’s broadcast; otherwise, he would have done more than post a guard onshore, he would have already impounded Salvation. He didn’t foresee what would happen that night.
The bullet came from behind the guard, striking at the base of his skull in the middle of his neck. He was killed instantly.
The shot came from a van which had rolled up inconspicuously about two hours before. The assailants waited five minutes to be sure he was dead. Then the van’s side door slid open and two men in black hoods made their way down to the dock carrying a small, two-man kayak. Carefully placing it in the water, they wormed into its seats and paddled towards Salvation II, taking care to make as little noise as possible and as they glided up to the stern platform. There they tied-up to the transport skiff. They would have to climb across the skiff to get onboard, but this would prevent two small boats from banging against the yacht.
Both of the hooded men had tactical backpacks slung over their shoulders. On the deck of Salvation II, the brought their packs forward, crouched besides them, and fully armed themselves with small automatic weapons.
Holstering their Glocks, they silently climbed the steps to the main deck. With two fingers to two eyes, and the lead figure signaled to the ladder to the control room where one of the crew was expected to be in his cabin. The second man shouldered his weapon and softly climbed down the ladder, approached the cabin, and with two well-placed hits with a silencer, their second target died in his bed.
The assailants had expected two crew members along with the chef, and so far, so good. They only had to find the second mate, most likely on the bridge, and then neutralize the chef in the kitchen or his nearby cabin. The first man pulled out Salvation’s schematics and indicated the deck and side of the yacht the guest’s stateroom would be located and where they would find Sally
Even with the silencer, the second mate alerted to the sounds of combat. He knew exactly what it was and understood immediately there was nothing he could do for his shipmates. He had come down off watch for five minutes, leaving the chef to keep tabs on the ship’s security monitors, so he could change from his formal onboard uniform to some sweats and a T-shirt. If he was correct, with the precision the assailants used to take out the first mate, they would be headed to the bridge looking for him. He waited a minute and then crept down to the first mate’s cabin and opened his door slightly. Inside, the man was dead. His head in a pool of blood … nothing he could do about it. He left the doorway open, so it wouldn’t make a sound and went back to his cabin and unlocked the weapons locker beneath his bunk to arm himself. Then he headed to the bridge in search of blood.
Sally slept soundly.
The two intruders moved throughout the second deck, surprised to find all the cabin doors wide open, with no one sleeping inside. Guessing their target had to be in one of the staterooms below, they exited the portside passageway and made their way down to deck three. Entering the third deck they tested each doorway until they came upon one locked handle. They confirmed their next action with a glance, swung their MP5 fully-automatic weapons around, and prepared to kick in the door.
Ever vigilant at night and never falling completely asleep, Frisco had been listening for some time from when the assailants first boarded. As the intruders made their way along the passageway, trying each of the doors, he emitted a low growl and nudged Sally.
“What is it Frisco?” she whispered in her sleep. Frisco pushed her harder. “What is it, do you need to go out?” but her words did nothing to change his behavior. “What are you trying to tell me?”
At that moment, Sally’s cabin door shattered and one of the men entered, pointing the machine gun directly at her. Frisco was ready, even if Sally was not, and hurled himself towards the opening. As if in slow motion, Sally saw the attacker turn his M5 to Frisco and fire a burst just as Frisco clasped his teeth into the forearm of the assailant in the hallway. Frisco yelped in pain but never let go, shaking his head and body as his fangs ripped into his victim’s flesh. Frisco took the man down and the weapon went flying forward into the cabin. Frisco was pinned beneath him, now whimpering, but he never let go.
Their orders were to take them alive, which gave Sally the time she needed. Diving across the bed to reach Frisco, she saw the weapon that fell next to her packed luggage and, although she had no experience with guns, she understood it was her best hope of saving Frisco. She reached for the gun, turned it on the man sprawled out in pain on top of Frisco and fired. A spray of bullets tore his head to bits, blood and brain flying everywhere.
Then she remembered the second assailant inside her cabin. She rolled onto her back and pointed the weapon where she thought he might be. When she saw him, he wasn’t looking at her, but at the armed first mate who was rushing towards the cabin door.
As Sally fired into the intruder, he in turn fired out towards the first mate, and they both went down. Sally kept firing until the every round in the magazine filled hi
s body. Spent and afraid, she pulled herself up to a seated position against the bed and saw the first mate killed in the passageway. She crawled over to Frisco and had to gently release the grip he still had on the dead man’s arm. From a night of peace, to pandemonium, then nothing; Sally was alone with her wonderful Frisco dying in her arms.
It had all happened so fast. Only minutes ago everything was fine. “Frisco, my dear sweet Frisco,” she cried. She held his head up on her lap and brushed the fur along his neck hoping it might ease his pain. Her words were tender, she knew he was dying. “It’s okay Frisk, you’re the best, you saved me little pal. I love you my sweetie, you’re going to be alright.”
But she knew he was dying; he had saved her life and there was nothing she could do to save his. Sally wept and, as she did, she realized never in her life had she felt so helpless and alone. Frisco turned his gaze to meet hers, his brown eyes smiling as only his could, and with a sigh, he was gone.
Sally sat for a long while in spite of the carnage around her. She couldn’t bear to leave Frisco; didn’t know how to. But she had to get out of there, not knowing who else might be after her. She carefully moved Frisco’s body, tucking him into the bed, placing his head on the pillow as he liked it. With the comforter beneath his chin, he looked as though he was sleeping.
Looking back into the cabin, said her last good-byes to the pup and stepped over the bodies near the doorway. With bag in hand, she went to another cabin to wash her face and hands and change into clothing unstained by Frisco’s blood. Formulating a plan, she moved quickly to search for the chef and found him on the bridge, folded over one of the navigation screens. “Could this night become any more horrible,” she cried and she headed towards the skiff.
Untying the skiff and cutting loose the small kayak, she was lucky the keys were in the ignition. It was only three a.m. and at the dock she made a call to cab service, purposefully telling them she had moved her flight up to five a.m. and to send someone right away. When she saw the cab coming into the parking lot, she hastily dialed 911 to report the murders on Salvation. She did not want to be here when the authorities arrived.
Her third call was to Craig. “Major Craig, you evil prick! Your men, they are all dead, along with the crew they slaughtered. They even killed my dog Frisco! You are more wicked and immoral then I ever could have imagined! I will never help you!”
“Sally, stop, slow down, stop, I said STOP! What men, what are you talking about? I didn’t send my men anywhere, never mind after you. One of my guys was posted in the parking lot, that’s all. I’ll check in with him and see what he saw. Please, slow down, start from the beginning!” Craig demanded.
“I don’t think you will have any luck reaching him. Everyone is dead!” Sally then told Craig of the horror of her past hour, starting with Frisco waking her up. When she spoke of Frisco, her tears refreshed. “I know he was only a dog, but he was Drake’s dog, all Shawn had left of his friend!”
“Sally, we are coming over. Give me an hour. Tell me where we can find you?” Craig insisted.
Sally took the cell from her ear and tapped End. She then threw the phone out past the dock so neither the police, nor Craig could track her whereabouts.