Authors: F. W. Rustmann
He cleaned up the room and placed
all of the remaining trash and tools into a disposal bag. He closed the flap on
his homemade satchel charge and surveyed his work. The room showed no evidence
of his bomb-making. Only two packages sat on the bed in front of him: the
satchel charge and the trash bag. He checked his watch. It was eight minutes to
midnight, and he was ready. He picked up the two packages and left the room.
Chapter Eighty-Eight
F
rançois and Solange were
pleasantly drunk and full of the culinary skills of Marie-Yvonne. They stepped
out into the balmy night and leisurely strolled back down toward the marina.
It was a few minutes past
midnight.
Chapter Eighty-Nine
L
im exited the hotel cautiously,
looking around to see if anyone was in the area. He did not want to be spotted
getting rid of the trash bag. Stealthily making his way to a garbage dumpster
behind the hotel, he raised the lid and heaved the bag into its depths.
Lim drove directly to the marina
and parked across the street from the D row of slips. He got there just in time
to observe the handsome couple weave their way down the dock, fumble with the
key to open the gate, and stroll on to the speedboat tied up at slip number
D-19.
Lim watched them board the
speedboat on unsteady legs and settle into the front seat. He was glad to know
they were mellowed by alcohol – less chance of their being alert to his
eventual presence near the yacht. The engine roared to life, and the boat
chugged backward out of the slip, turned away from the shore, and leaped
forward. Lim’s eyes followed the small craft as it sped out into the bay.
Moments later, it pulled up to the side of a large white yacht, and the couple
climbed aboard.
Chapter Ninety
F
rançois tied the speed boat to
the stern of the yacht and turned toward Solange. He took her in his arms and
kissed her gently at first, and then deeper as his passion rose. His hands
traced over her hips and buttocks, and he could feel the soft, smooth skin
beneath the light silk summer dress.
She pushed him away gently and
purred, “Sit up top and have your cognac while I go below and slip into
something more comfortable. Meet you in five minutes.
Ça va, cheri
?”
“
Oui, ça va
, five
minutes....”
“
Je t’aime cheri. Je t’aime
.”
He gazed out over the water, but
all he saw was moonlight on quiet water.
Lim was still on shore.
Chapter Ninety-One
L
im returned to his car, removed
the satchel, and slung it over his shoulder. He walked back up along the
quai
to the A row, where the water taxis were docked. Several small dinghies with
10hp outboard engines and three larger motor launches were tied up along the
dock, but there didn’t appear to be anyone around in charge of them.
Lim found the rental office
vacant and locked, although the lights were on inside. He banged on the door a
few times but got no response. He stood there trying to decide whether he
should just take one of the dinghies when an old man approached from the road.
Glancing toward the dinghies, Lim
asked, “How much?”
“50 Euros for the day; 100 Euros
deposit.” The old man lit a brown Bastos cigarette disinterestedly and flipped
the smoking match into the bay.
Lim pulled 150 Euros from his
billfold and handed them to the old man. “I’ll be back in the morning. Which
one shall I take?”
The old man indicated the nearest
boat. “That one’s all ready to go. Do you know how to operate an outboard?”
“Of course,” He climbed into the
boat, set his backpack down on the seat, and set about starting the engine.
After two unsuccessful tugs on
the starter cord, the old man called down to him, “Use the choke. There on the
right. Flip it up.”
The engine coughed to life, and
the old man unhooked the bowline and tossed it into the boat. Lim backed the
boat out of the slip, turned it away from the shore, and slowly headed out into
the bay. He was in no hurry now. François Leverrier and his little
putain
weren’t going anywhere but hell this night.
Chapter Ninety-Two
M
oonlight illuminated the bay.
There was no breeze. The bay was like a sheet of glass, except in the wake of
the little outboard, which chugged purposefully toward the
Tout Va Bien
.
The yacht was clearly outlined
against the horizon in the distance. Lim could see lights on the afterdeck and
in the forward cabin below.
As he drew closer, he could see
the outline of François smoking on the afterdeck, elbows on the railing,
looking out to sea. Lim slowed the engine as much as he could without stalling
it and continued his surveillance while staying a good distance away from the
yacht.
He watched his prey flick a
cigarette out into the water and then purposefully tilt his snifter up to drain
the last drop of cognac. He saw him turn amidships and disappear from view.
When the lights went out on the afterdeck, Lim turned the bow of his little boat
back toward the yacht and closed the remaining 100 meters or so at idle speed.
He cut the engine a few feet from
the yacht and drifted toward the white hull until he could reach out and grab
the swimming platform at the stern of the vessel. He tied his boat to the
platform next to the speedboat and sat quietly. He could hear soft music and
voices from deep within the cabin. He was ready.
Chapter Ninety-Three
F
rançois descended the ladder and
walked forward toward the main cabin. He could hear the sound of the shower
running and pictured Solange standing under the spray all wet and soapy and
glistening and slick as a seal. Just that mental picture was enough to make his
groin tingle and his penis swell.
He switched off the light in the
hall and entered the main cabin. Her clothes were strewn upon the large circular
bed that dominated the cabin. Lacy pink thong panties that were the last item
to be removed had slipped off the bed onto the floor. He kicked off his boat
shoes, ripped off his shirt, and slipped quickly out of his pants. Hopping on
one foot to keep his balance, he hurried toward the shower, continuing to
undress on the way.
He saw her blurred image through
the glass shower door and hesitated a moment. The shower was tiny, with barely
enough room for one person to turn around in, and when she bent over to soap
her legs, her beautiful, slick buttocks pressed up against the glass and leaped
into focus. He pulled open the door to the tiny shower and stood facing her.
She turned toward him and squeezed the water out of her eyes with her fingers. Looking
down at his erection she exclaimed: “
Mon Dieu, cheri
, you have begun
without me!”
Chapter Ninety-Four
L
im climbed quietly out of the
boat onto the swimming platform of the yacht. He sat down on the platform,
leaned back against the stern of the yacht, and opened the flap of the satchel.
He thought a moment as he examined the clock. He decided that four minutes on
the timer would give him plenty of time to get out of the blast zone.
He checked his wrist watch,
closed the satchel, hooked it over his shoulder, and climbed up the swimming
ladder onto the afterdeck of the yacht.
At the end of the hall he could
see the door to the main cabin. Light filtered out from below the door into the
hall. He could hear the sound of water running from within.
He gently tried the handle on the
door, but found it locked. He calculated where he was on the yacht in relation
to his prey, the engines, and the fuel tanks. He figured the engines were
placed amidships, below the door leading to the main cabin, and the fuel tanks
were probably directly below where he was standing. If he placed the charge on
the floor against the door in front of him, the blast would reach forward into
the main cabin and also rupture the fuel tanks below, adding to the explosion.
Perfect,
he thought.
This will do just fine.
He propped the satchel against
the door at his feet, checked his watch, set the timer for the four minutes he
had decided upon, closed the satchel, and hurried back up the ladder to the
deck above. He scrambled back into his boat, scraping his knee on the swimming
platform in the process and uttering a silent curse.
Haste was an issue now. After
all, this was to be François’s demise, not Lim’s. Just François…and the unlucky
putain
who had the misfortune to accompany him on this vacation.
Once settled, he checked his
watch again—plenty of time—untied the boat, and pushed off. He allowed himself
to drift silently away from the
Tout Va Bien
for another minute before
he pulled the starter cord. He tugged. He tugged again. Nothing. Now he was
getting nervous. He was too close to François’s boat for safety, and the damn
engine wouldn’t catch.
What the hell was this?!
Starting to feel a bit
panicked now, he played with the choke, pulled the starter again…and still
nothing. He smelled gas. He had flooded it. He checked his watch, felt fear
flood him, and as his heart raced, he desperately tugged the starter again and
again with the choke off.
Finally the engine sputtered to
life. Relieved, he turned the bow of his boat back toward the shore and moved
away with all due haste. His pressing need now was to get the hell out of there
as quickly as possible.
Chapter Ninety-Five
S
olange and François were unaware
of the sound of the little boat speeding off. They were locked in an embrace in
the shower, indeed a necessity in the cramped space.
This could be the woman
who ends my chase for women,
François thought.
Their passion mounted, making the
couple mindless of anything else in the world, mindless of the ticking satchel,
mindless of its deadly contents, totally unaware of the little boat chugging
farther and farther away from the imperiled yacht, focused only on themselves
and each other and the delicious sensations overtaking both their bodies…until
he entered her with a gasp and the satchel outside the door blew them both into
oblivion.
Chapter Ninety-Six
L
im watched the yacht rise up out
of the water from the force of the explosion and then, an instant later, the
fuel tanks erupted in another explosion, and the yacht disintegrated in a ball
of flame and debris.
Bits of the yacht landed near
him, and he watched in detached amazement as the bulk of it disappeared into
the bay with a hiss. He was thoroughly pleased with his handiwork.
Lim drove his boat up onto the
beach and walked back to his car. He didn’t run, but neither did he dawdle. It
wouldn’t do to be seen running away. He could hear the wailing sirens of
approaching police cars as he drove away from the scene and headed back in the
direction of Paris.
Chapter Ninety-Seven
Three days later Huang looked up
at the sound of the knock on his office door. He had been deep in thought,
contemplating another inevitable exile back to Beijing.
At first he didn’t make the
connection between the media reports of the killing of Pol Girard in Bern and
the explosion that killed François Leverrier and an unidentified woman in
Villefranche – he simply didn’t immediately recognize the names of MacMurphy’s
agents. But when the protest came in from the American Embassy about the assault
and murder of Margaret “Wei-wei” Ryan by an Oriental man matching the
description of Lim, things became crystal clear.
Things fell together for Beijing
as well. The cable he had received from MSS headquarters that morning was
scathing.
Lim appeared in the doorway,
silently arrogant. He guessed that the other shoe had finally dropped.
“Get in here, you idiot. Do you
realize what you have done? What possessed you? Have you gone completely mad?
Eyeah
.
You stupid maggot, answer me, answer me!” Huang fired the words at Lim,
splattering spittle over the papers cluttering his desk.
“They deserved what they got—all
of them.” Lim glared at Huang unflinchingly, displaying neither fear nor
remorse. If anything, he looked triumphant, pleased with himself, and frankly
surprised that his boss didn’t feel the same.
“You go after his girlfriend, go
on a k-k-k-killing rampage, and all you can say is th-th-they deserved it! Now
I know you have gone completely mad. Do – do – do - do you not realize what you
have done? What this means?” Huang sputtered, unable to suppress his rage, the
veins in his beet-red face and neck pulsing.