Lobec tucked the SIG Sauer he’d used to shoot Bern into the waistband of his shorts and sprinted through the slow-moving traffic, crossing the six lanes in seconds. Without stopping, he leaped off the opposite side of the bridge. When he surfaced, the boat was roaring out from under the bridge three feet in front of him. He lunged forward and barely grabbed the aft ladder as the boat skimmed by. He gritted his teeth as the force of the jolt dislocated his left shoulder, nearly ripping his arm from its socket. He couldn’t be sure, but it appeared that neither Hamilton nor his girlfriend had seen him.
It had taken all of his concentration to keep his legs from being tossed by the waves into the exposed propeller. After a minute, though, he was able to raise himself enough to get a foothold on the ladder. Then the climb had gotten easy. He had not been surprised to see Hamilton watching as his head rose above the boat’s edge. He even smiled at seeing Hamilton’s shocked face, although the surprise had come earlier than he had hoped it would.
Hamilton’s inaction lasted only a fraction of a second. Cursing, he began fumbling with a bag lying next to him. The girl turned around and screamed when she saw Lobec.
“Shake him loose!” Hamilton yelled.
Lobec was not all the way into the boat and had to hold on tightly to keep from being thrown into the water as Jensen tossed the boat side to side.
Hamilton found what he was looking for, withdrawing a Glock pistol from the bag. He chambered a round. Then he yelled in the girl’s direction.
“Okay. Stop the boat.” Hamilton held the Glock with both hands. They were still chained together by the handcuffs.
Jensen pushed the throttle to STOP and turned to face Lobec.
“Keep your hands where I can see them,” Hamilton said.
Lobec was still only halfway into the boat and could not draw the SIG Sauer in his waistband because his right hand was holding him onto the ladder and his left was useless. He couldn’t raise his arm enough to grab the pistol let alone fire it accurately.
With the Glock trained on him by the marksman Lobec knew Hamilton to be, Lobec slowly eased his legs over the side of the boat without trying to draw.
“That’s far enough,” Hamilton said. “Now with the thumb and forefinger of your right hand grab only the butt of the pistol in your shorts and drop it on the deck.”
At a range of three meters, Hamilton would not miss if Lobec tried to draw the awkward pistol and silencer combination. He did as he was told and dropped it to the deck.
“Good. Now slide it over here with your right foot.”
“Or what,” Lobec said. “Or you will shoot me?”
“You killed my father. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blow your head off.” Kevin had to raise his voice to be heard over the sound of jet engines powering up at the end of National’s runway.
“Kevin, don’t,” Erica said.
“He will not, Miss Jensen. And I have a very good reason for you not to kill me. You’ll never know what this is all about. Besides, I am an unarmed man. I know for a fact that you have never shot anyone in your life. And you won’t shoot me.” He moved his left leg forward. Even with his dislocated shoulder, Lobec merely had to get close enough to disarm Hamilton. At most, two arm’s lengths away would do it.
With the quickness of a cat, Hamilton shifted the gun and shot Lobec in the left calf. Lobec stumbled, for the first time surprised by Hamilton, but he caught himself before falling, balancing on the other leg. He didn’t look down. The pain was no worse than other gunshot injuries he’d endured, probably little more than a flesh wound.
“Are you convinced now?” Kevin pointed the pistol at Lobec’s head.
“Quite.” With his right foot, Lobec tapped the SIG Sauer, which slid along the floor to Hamilton’s feet.
“All right then,” Hamilton said as he slowly dipped to the deck to pick up the SIG, never once taking his eyes off Lobec. He put the pistol in his waistband. “I decided I wanted to hear what you have to say. Now sit down on that cushion.” Hamilton pointed at the back of the boat with his head. “And remember to keep your hands in the air.”
An interesting predicament, Lobec thought as he sat with a squish on the cushioned ledge. To be at the mercy of his captors, most likely to be turned in to the authorities, was a situation he had never before faced. But despite his injuries, his hand-to-hand skills were still formidable. To use them, he had to get them off guard. And presently, he had only one way to do that. Tell them the truth.
“Are you crazy?” Erica said.
“It’s only a minor wound,” Kevin said, seeing that Lobec’s expression hadn’t wavered. “He’ll be all right.”
Which was true, but for the moment Lobec was a mess. Blood was streaming down his leg and pooling onto the floor of the boat.. His left arm dangled awkwardly at his side. It looked dislocated.
“I can’t believe you shot him.”
“He wouldn’t have stopped if I hadn’t. After two days with this guy, I’m sure of it.”
Lobec spoke. “You are probably wondering why I shot Mr. Bern.”
“We know why,” said Kevin. “Because you’re a greedy son of a bitch like Tarnwell. You wanted Adamas, and you weren’t willing to share.”
“Then why did he tell me to throw the bag into the river?” Erica said.
“What?”
“When I told him to let you go or I’d throw the bag in the river, he said that he didn’t care. He practically told me to throw it into the Potomac.”
“He was bluffing you.”
“On the contrary, Mr. Hamilton. She is right. My intent was to have her drop the bag in the river.”
“Oh really?” Kevin said sarcastically. “And why did you shoot Bern? So you could let us go?”
“Mr. Bern’s death was tragically unavoidable in the protection of my country’s national security.”
“Oh that’s just great,” Kevin said. “You work for the government? It’s just like you guys to wave the flag around whenever you do something wrong and pretend you’re doing it for God and country.”
“What does the Adamas process have to do with American national security?” Erica said. “If anything, it should be good for it, considering all the possibilities Kevin’s be telling me about the process.”
Without changing expression, Lobec said something that splashed over Kevin like a bucket of ice water.
“Who said I was American?” In that one short phrase, Lobec’s cadence and accent changed noticeably. Kevin couldn’t place it, but it was definitely not an American accent.
“Please allow me to introduce myself yet again. My real name is Nils Van Dyke.”
“What is that?” Erica said. “A Dutch accent?”
“Very good, Erica. Not exactly, but you’re close. I’m from the Republic of South Africa.” The words came quickly now, not the measured rhythm Lobec had used with the American accent. “My one flaw has always been my inability to master accents. I could do an American accent, but it required me to speak in a stilted manner. Unfortunate, since it drew attention to me. Not something I relish in my line of work.”
“Which is?” Kevin said.
“I thought that would be obvious by now. I’m a spy.”
Erica looked at Kevin, but he wouldn’t take his eyes off Van Dyke. The pistol was still pointed straight at his head. A pool of blood was slowly expanding at Van Dyke’s feet.
“You’re a spy working for Clayton Tarnwell?” Kevin’s voice was dubious.
“As you both probably know, South Africa is rich in mineral resources. In fact, it’s one of our main sources of wealth. It obviously makes sense to observe the world’s most powerful country to see what is happening in the mining field, both politically and industrially. My position in Tarnwell’s company allows me to do just that. Of course, he thinks I’m a mercenary for hire, bowing to his every wish because he manipulated my release from a Mexican prison and now holds the lives of my brother and his family as hostage.”