Page 73 of The Primary Pest
Ajax reeled as if Dmytro had slapped him. Did he still think he had a prayer?
Some hope, which, as he’d learned in freshman English, was that thing with feathers that perched in Emily Dickinson’s soul?
Well, good for Emily, but now that Ajax was struggling “in the chillest land” and “on the strangest Sea,” there seemed to be nohopeto hold on to.
What could he even hope for? Rescue? A few moments alone with Dmytro? An honorable death? A painless, quick death?
His heart had started knocking against his rib cage, and his breath came in shallow puffs. He choked back nausea as Chet and Peter herded them onto the deck.
“Don’t look at the water, Ajax. Look straight out.”
Dmytro’s voice sounded… resigned.
Oh God. Oh God.They weren’t going to make Dmytro shoot him, were they?
“If you look at the horizon,” Dmytro reminded him, “you won’t get seasick.”
Ajax glanced back to find Dmytro wasn’t armed anyway. Peter was, but his weapon hand had relaxed for now.
Chet came on deck with his thick roll of goddamn duct tape. Ajax hated that silver fucking bullshit now. He could still feel the abrasions where tape had taken off his skin. If Chet put on more…
Peter switched to his PC carbine and aimed it at Ajax. “Next to the rail. You too, Dmytro.”
“What’d I say? Joke’s on you, Boris.” Chet grinned maniacally as he shoved the unarmed Dmytro next to Ajax. “Kneel down and put your hands through the railing.”
He tore off long strips of duct tape and bound their wrists around the railing of theCharioteer. Water churned beneath them. It was at least a twenty-foot drop. Looking down, Ajax knew he was going to be sick.
Dmytro reminded him, “Look at the horizon, Ajax.”
Ajax lifted his gaze and tried to breathe in the cool, refreshing air.
The sky where it met the horizon was as blue as the Caribbean Sea. Above them, it was streaked with mare’s tail clouds and condensation trails. Sunlight glimmered off green water, creating a path he could almost walk along toward the east.
If only.
In the far distance there came the noise of an engine, and if he looked hard, a speck of a boat, tiny now, made its way toward them. The rendezvous vessel? Or an unrelated traveler oblivious to their problems in this vast, deep ocean.
The ocean was full of boats.
He glanced at Dmytro, whose face remained impassive as always.
“There’s our ride. Chet,” Peter said, “you know what to do.”
“God, those two.” Ajax gave a head shake. “It’s like watching Pinky and the Brain.”
Dmytro’s lips twisted, but he made no comment.
“Sorry about this, Dmytro.” Peter aimed a shrug Dmytro’s way. “But I think we both know I’d be a fool to let you live.”
“Damn right.” The words tore away Ajax’s composure. “Dmytro is worth ten of you.”
“That he is,” Peter said with an honesty that surprised him. “He’s worth a hundred of Chet—”
“Hey!” Chet was not amused. “I heard that.”
“But good men are bad for criminal business. I doubt anyone could buy you, Dmytro. Not even with your children’s lives.”
“Don’t count me out. I will hunt you to the ends of the earth if you harm one hair on their heads.”
