Page 82 of A Princess, Stolen
The roar in my head grew louder. Isaac knew Dad would never plead guilty, yet still, he put on this farce for the men. Why? What did he want? Money instead of justice? And what were his plans for me? I didn’t even want to imagine. The events unfolded before me like an unstoppable nightmare. A few things happened without me understanding the meaning behind them. The mercenary pointed his rifle at Troy, who then spoke, a look of shame and fear on his face. I saw him pull the key to the cell out of his pocket. Isaac’s dark-haired lackey was still squeezing me like a sardine in a can and two men in dark green overalls were still standing on the bollards covering the deck with their weapons. Then, I spotted Nathan, who I had been searching for the entire time.
My heart skipped a beat. They had tied him to the anchor chain with a rope. His eye was swollen shut, his cheekboneshimmered green and blue, and blood was still running from his nose. I wanted to call out to him, but at that moment, someone shooed Sparta up the steps to the bow, so I remained silent.
He looked deathly ill. Something bluish seemed to have corroded his skin, the red pustules glowing, but the most frightening thing was his red eyes, which flickered absurdly deep in their sockets.
“You can decide now,” Isaac said without even looking at Sparta. “Those who don’t want to join out of cowardice will be locked in the vacated cell until it’s over. If you don’t cause any trouble, nothing will happen to you. Anyone who wants to join us will do what I say. You won’t help the little lady.” He glanced at the men one by one and then looked at me again so intensely that I avoided his gaze. “Remember my words: If Hampton gets away with his crazy lie and we release her, she will betray us all. That’s why he has to bleed. He should confess and we demand money. A lot of money. Money we are entitled to so that we can go into hiding to start a better life in a nice place. Only then will we release her.”
“You’re lying! You’ll never let her go!” I heard Nathan yell. I looked at him. The injuries on his face shimmered like oil paint, and when our eyes met, there was misery in them. There was silence for a moment and then Pan growled, “Who say you no kill Willa later? Who guarantee that?”
Isaac looked at him sharply. “We aren’t selling washing machines, Johannsson, there are no guarantees.”
Nathan yanked at his bonds. “He won’t let her go, Kjertan! No matter what he says! Don’t believe him! He doesn’t give a damn about Coldville and those white crosses. He only cares about his own damn war with Hampton… And you? Maury, Anthony, Billy…we are from the same village. You threaten us with weapons? Seriously? We’ve dug our friends’ graves together…”
He didn’t get any further because Isaac snatched the Glock from that iron-hard mercenary and fired into the sky above Nathan’s head. I flinched in the tight grip. “If you say one more word, Nathaniel, Maury will go in with her and have some fun,” he said in a loud but dangerously calm voice. My throat constricted and I saw Nathan blanch.
“We have neither time nor space for traitors,” Isaac said coldly into the echo of the shot and pressed the pistol back into the mercenary’s hand. “So you can see what awaits you…” He didn’t finish his sentence but nodded to the mercenary who put the barrel of the Glock against Sparta’s neck.
Instinctively, I screamed because I thought he was going to shoot him execution-style, but he used the muzzle to steer him toward the railing.
Isaac strolled a few steps behind, his hands in the pockets of his overalls. “So, Stanton, what would we have done without our valuable pawn? You would have ruined the whole plan for petty personal reasons.”
“It wasn’t me!” Sparta screamed and there was such genuine horror in his anger that I doubted his guilt. The night suddenly seemed so cold to me. Men started speaking at the same time, and suddenly, I couldn’t imagine that someone like Sparta could hoist me over the parapet so easily. It must have been someone like Ilias or Taurus. Sparta was far too sick and too weak. Besides, if he had radioed the coordinates to Isaac because his Outer Banks plan had failed, that would mean that he had wanted to escape with me. But then he would never have thrown me and the ring into the water.
“Maybe he didn’t do it!” I blurted out, surprising myself, but Isaac didn’t pay any attention to me. Instead, Sparta looked over at me. We stared at each other for a few seconds, my head filled with a thousand questions yet empty. Maybe Isaac wasn’t interested in the attack on me? Maybe he was punishingSparta for the plan itself, namely to flee with me. But who told him about it? Nathan? As far as I knew, he was the only one on board with a cell phone or so the others said, but they had just threatened Troy. He had probably told them what had happened.
With a growing tightness in my chest, I watched Sparta climb onto the bottom rung of the railing, the mercenary’s gun still at the back of his neck.
“Jump or Miller will put a bullet in your head. Maybe you’d prefer that.”
Miller.Biller-Miller-The-Killer. That was definitely the unscrupulous hunter from Coldville that Nathan had once mentioned. Isaac’s best sniper. And he was probably the one who had my father in his sights back then.
I looked from him to Sparta. He was trembling right down to the matted ends of his dreadlocks. “It wasn’t me,” he repeated, and I felt pity rising in me against my will. “I didn’t give away any coordinates either. I’m not a traitor, Nathaniel!” he shouted, glancing over his shoulder.
Nathan didn’t look at him. “He’s in pain. He didn’t know what he was doing,” he said darkly to Isaac. “Leave him alone.”
Isaac pretended not to have heard Nathan. A nod was all it took and Miller slid the weapon into a gun belt that I only now noticed, grabbed Sparta around his thighs, and threw him over the railing like a sack of flour. I heard him scream before he splashed into the water and felt the horror and disbelief on board ripple through the air. Even Maury loosened his grip, so I squirmed, but that made him immediately tighten his grip again.
There was dead silence.
“An eye for an eye. Tooth for a tooth. That’s true justice…and that’s what this is all about.” Isaac eyed the men and strode casually across the deck. “Anyone else want to object? If not, I want your decision now.”
Sparta shouted from below. “I’m in. I’m in! Damn it, let me back up!” His words echoed across the ocean, way out, and you could hear the splash of his arms in the water.
For a moment, I thought about Mom. “He’s sick,” I said involuntarily. “You can’t just let him drown.”
Isaac smiled, a sign that he had heard my words but he didn’t react and instead turned to Miller. “If he tries to get on the motorboat, shoot him, Billy!”
Billy Miller.Biller-Miller-The-Killer.
The mercenary nodded and moved to the railing, aiming the Glock down at the water. He was terrifying, a weapon personified, his face cruel and cold, without emotion.
I looked at Nathan. He stared back imploringly and, at the same time, yanked at his bonds, but he would never be able to break the thick rope by sheer force.
Isaac placed himself purposefully in front of him to break our eye contact and pointed to the other side of the railing. “Your decision.”
The first to cross the bow and change sides was Apollo. The good Alvin White.
Mykonos and Owen Wilson followed less than five seconds later.
