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“I can’t believe this!” Honi sat crossways on Garrett’s bed. His eyes were angry and he stared at the dragon hovering over him. “That pig is willing to deny the ransom for an innocent boy? I’ll kill him myself.”

“Calm yourself,” reiterated Merle, holding out his hands to ward off the policeman.

“I will not,” thundered Honi. “I’m coming with you!”

“Your leg is not healed, Archie.”

“My leg be damned!” snarled the man. He lifted his damaged limb toward the edge of the bunk.

“Would you put B.S. at further risk by being discovered?” asked Merle quietly. This stopped Honi and he cursed as it finally sank in that he would be a hindrance. “I didn’t say Mr. Kline refused to pay the ransom,” continued Merle. “I said that Kline does not have the required amount.”

“I don’t believe that,” shot back Honi.

“He’s adamant. I saw the look in his face when we showed him the ransom communication. He was horrified.”

“Scared for his own life no doubt.”

“No, there is more to it than that. There was genuine concern for B.S. I saw it in his eyes.”

“He’s one of the richest men in Deep Cove, he has the money.”

Merle shook his head. “He told us his money is tied up in properties, stocks, and commodities. I believe him, Archie. More importantly, Garrett believes him.”

“This is ridiculous,” stormed Honi. He leaned back against the pillows and rubbed at his eyes. “They will kill B.S. when Kline doesn’t pay.”

“Mr. Kline has agreed to meet with the captain of the Siren’s Call at midnight. He is putting his own life on the line to stall them.”

“They’ll kill the whole lot of you when you show up empty handed,” growled the policeman.

“They won’t be empty handed,” said Merle. “We’ve fixed several large chests with stones in the bottom and gold on top. It might be enough to buy us some time.”

“And then what?” asked Honi. “When they find out the money is missing, they’ll come back and kill everyone on Kline’s property. At the very least, he’ll be watching the bushes for hired killers for years to come.”

“It is a concern,” agreed Merle. “Kline has been backed into a corner by the Syndicate. He either has to pay them or fight for his life. Since he doesn’t have the funds, that leaves him no choice but to fight.”

“I don’t feel sorry for him,” confided Honi. “He’s made his bed. It troubles me greatly that innocent people like B.S. have to pay for his crimes.”

“We only want to get B.S. out of this mess and then Kline is on his own,” said Merle. “We all know the stories; when the Syndicate wants you dead, you’re dead.”

“I still don’t see how pretending to pay the ransom is going to help the boy,” argued Honi.

“We’ve looked at the message several times, trying to figure out where they’re holding B.S. We have nothing conclusive. Garrett is certain there are two assassins working together here. He feels that one will be down at the docks to oversee the delivery of the monies, but that the second killer will remain with B.S. and await a sign to either release the boy or finish the job. If we can discover where they are hiding B.S., Garrett can go in after the boy. Kline and Maury will occupy the other assassin. It will be dangerous, but no one on Kline’s payroll is capable of facing a trained Syndicate killer.”

Honi looked at Merle, shock showing on his face. “Garrett would do that for a boy he barely knows?”

“He is well trained,” said Merle miserably. “Believe me, it’s not something he’s looking forward to tackling, but until B.S. is safe we will do what we can.”

Honi nodded. “What about Kline’s warehouse?” he asked. “They could be holding B.S. there.”

Merle nodded. “That’s the first place Garrett thought of. None of Kline’s guards have been inside the building since Kline locked the place, following the attack on Sal Rogers. There was a G.V. unit stored in there that could have been used to send the message, but when Garrett mentioned this to Maury, he informed us that Kline had the G.V. unit returned to his estate three days ago. Maury told us there was dust accumulating on the desk and equipment, and it looked as if nobody had been in the warehouse since Sal was killed. The more we thought about it, the more we came to realise the warehouse isn’t a good location for the killers to hold their hostage anyway. They’re going to want somewhere close to the docks where they can send signals back and forth.”

“It could be a ship then,” said Honi. “I know some of the bigger vessels have G.V. units on them for navigation.”

“Garrett is looking into anyone with G.V. units in the community as we speak. He’s also looking into the possibility of a ship, but if that does turn out to be the case, we may not be able to locate it in time. Not to mention the difficulties involved in boarding a vessel and remaining undiscovered.”

Honi was quiet for a minute. At last he looked up. “Any public locations with a G.V. system would be of no use to the killers. There’s just too much traffic and they’ll want to stay as low profile as possible.”

“I agree,” said Merle. “The problem is, we’re running out of daylight and there are many places they could be hiding. I hope Garrett comes back with a lead. As it stands, we have less than eight hours until Kline needs to deliver that money. If they discover the truth about those chests and we haven’t found B.S....” The dragon wrung his hands anxiously.

“I know,” snapped Honi, “you don’t need to say it.”

* * * *

It was almost eight in the evening and the last of the sun dipped into the sea on the horizon. Garrett finished climbing the gangway to the upper cliffs and turned to gaze over the scrambled mess of docks and wooden walkways, far below. A slight hint of breeze tousled his hair; as always, the smell of fish was on the wind. Leaning over the railing, he peeked along the line of gambling dens. Any one of the rich proprietors here could own a G.V. unit. ’But unless you’re in league with the Syndicate, you wouldn’t knowingly rent rooms, let alone your costly equipment to a pair of killers.’ He rubbed at his temples.

Much of last night had been spent going over the message received from the assassins. He went with Maury to inform Kline of the dangerous development and the abduction of B.S. Immediately the old man had called a meeting with Frank and Hector to go over their options. Despite watching the video several times, no one could define anything special about the killer’s location. It could just as easily be the interior of a gloomy barn as the underbelly of a ship. There was no way to tell from the grainy video feed.

Garrett was certain that Daniel Kline wanted to see B.S. come to no harm, but he was not as certain this would be the outcome. Even if Kline had produced the required funds, a feeling gnawing in the pit of his stomach told Garrett that the killers had no intention of letting B.S. go unscathed. Kline might pay up and fall in line, but B.S. remained the perfect means by which to demonstrate the need for obedience when dealing with the dons. Reluctantly, he had shared his opinion with Kline, and it was the old man who insisted they try and fool the assassins into thinking they were going along with the instructions while they searched for a way to free the boy.

“Damn it,” he swore aloud. “Where are you?” His eyes searched the bobbing vessels below. Even at this hour the docks remained full of workers.

Garrett was sick with worry over how things would turn out tonight, but above all, he was weary. This morning he had traveled to both the university and the police precinct to verify that no unauthorised person could have used the G.V. units from these locations. After confirming this, he had walked to the harbour to speak with the harbourmaster. He had been forced to wait for over an hour before the man allowed him to go over the harbour logbooks. He was looking for any vessel remaining in Deep Cove for longer than one week. There were two ships that had been here longer, both having been damaged in recent storms, but upon investigation of the vessels Garrett cleared both. He had thought about searching the Siren’s Call, but decided he did not want to draw undue attention to himself. Most likely the assassins would be watching that ship closely. Instead, he settled on a walk to the warehouses at the end of the pier, but again, after searching these with the harbourmaster’s permission, he cleared them from his list of potential hideouts.

Garrett’s eyes were drawn to the lighthouse as its ray passed by. He gazed the length of the harbour to where the Siren’s call was secured. ‘If there are two of you communicating back and forth, then one of you will be up here where you can see down to the ship. The other, if not directly on the vessel will be close by.’

A group of sailors passed Garrett, heading for the beaches below. The men were drunk and overly loud. One of the seamen threatened to throw his comrade over the railing if the smaller man didn’t shut up.

Again Garrett’s eyes scanned the row of buildings atop the cliffs. ’Too many people around here,’ he thought. ’You’re inside somewhere where you can see down below, yet remain inconspicuous. But how did you get B.S. into a room at the back of a crowded gambling hall? Those places are busy all the time. Somebody would ask questions, at some point.’

Again his eyes were drawn to the lighthouse as a silhouette of a man passed before the lamp. The dark outline of the figure walked along the balcony encircling the tower. The man waved unexpectedly into the darkening night. Garrett straightened, his attention fully on the silhouette. He watched the man re-enter the lamp room and drop through the hatch into the bowels of the lighthouse. Garrett had only seen the figure for a few seconds, but already he was running along the path toward the lower city. Whomever he had just glimpsed was not an aged man, and certainly not the lighthouse attendant.

* * * *

The midnight sky was overcast as the mule drawn wagon bumped along the planking of the main pier. Maury led the caravan, a lamp in one hand and his spear in the other. Behind the wagon, Daniel Kline was sandwiched between the two minotaurs, and following the transport closely.

It had been years since he felt this vulnerable. He shivered within the deep folds of his sable coat. Kline’s eyes were drawn to the darker recesses of the cliff face and the shadowy depressions of the uneven stone. The killers could be hiding anywhere and they could strike without warning if they felt something was amiss.

“Whoa,” said Maury, holding out his arm to halt the mule. The beast walked into the ogre and pushed him two steps before stopping. Beside the wagon, an adjoining section of dock cut into the waters to their right. The creaking of the docks mingled with the sound of water lapping at the underside of the pier. The ogre looked at Kline for confirmation.

Kline studied the length of dock as it disappeared into the bay. He could see the shadowy outline of the wharf and several ships against the lighter sky. He detected no movement. A schooner was secured to their left, but the deck was empty and the only light emanated from Maury’s half-hooded lamp.

Pulling a cigar from an inside pocket, Kline felt around for his matches before striking one against the rough wood of the wagon. The wind off the waters extinguished the flame immediately and he felt his fingers shaking as he struck another match and puffed on the cigar. His innards were in turmoil and he searched the dark pier again. At last, he nodded to Maury.

Maury took the lamp into his hand with the spear and used his free arm to guide the mule onto the adjoining planking. Slowly they crept forward, Maury scanning the surrounding ships for signs of an ambush. Behind the cart, Kline sucked on his cigar and tried to remain inconspicuous between his two mammoth bodyguards. Nearing the end of the dock, an accented voice stopped them cold.

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The light from Maury’s lamp did not illuminate the man accosting them, but Kline recognised the voice from the G.V. message. To his left, he could see the shadowy bulk of the Siren’s Call, bobbing in the waters. There were no seamen aboard her deck and no source of lighting on the ship. “Where is the Captain and crew,” called Kline.

“They are not needed here,” said the voice. “You have the money?”

“Yes.”

“Bring a chest forward and set it before the gangplank of the Siren’s Call.”

Maury walked to the back of the wagon and leaned over Kline. “I don’t see anyone else,” he whispered. Kline touched the Ogre’s arm and motioned to the nearest trunk. Maury passed his lantern to Frank, before helping Hector with the chest. Kline remained silent as his helpers hauled the box around the mule and set it down.

“Light,” said the voice. “Open it.”

Kline motioned Frank forward and the minotaur passed the lantern to Maury. For his part, the gangster stayed within an arm’s distance of his large protector. Hector opened the chest and Maury held the lamp above the glittering gold coins.

“Good,” came the whispered response from the shadows. “There is an empty chest aboard the ship. Bring it down and set it beside the first.”

Looking uneasy, Maury glanced to Kline for approval. Kline nodded and the ogre made his way up the gangplank. Holding the lantern above his head, he searched the shadows for signs of treachery. Locating the empty storage container, he grabbed onto it and dragged it down beside the first.

“Now empty the first into the second,” said the voice.

Again Kline nodded. Both Hector and Maury began transferring handfuls of the gold between the two crates. Kline had foreseen this possibility and filled the first chest completely with gold. Now he prayed the killer’s thoroughness would only extend to this first container. Finished at last, Maury tilted the empty chest toward the shadows at the end of the pier.

“Bring your next chest and open it,” said the assassin.

Maury and Hector did as they were bid, setting it beside the empty trunk. Once more the glitter of gold graced the night shadows as Hector opened the lid and Maury waved the lantern overtop. Kline remained half hidden behind Frank, puffing on his cigar. The gangster’s eyes scanned the black waters and the outline of the ship. He could see no signs of onlookers. “You have your gold,” said Kline. “It’s all here. I want to see my boy.”

“That is not the agreement,” snapped the man from the shadows. “You have not paid for your misbehaviour. The terms of our agreement are non-negotiable. You were already advised that once you have paid in gold and body, your son will be released.”

“I have paid,” thundered Kline. He muscled his way around the side of Frank and stepped into the light of the lantern. He held his left hand up, the stump of his pinky clearly visible. “Do you think I am frightened of you? You slink through the darkness and kill from the shadows. I face my troubles head on like a man.”

The voice remained calm and even. “I’m afraid the payment will be more than a finger, this time.”

“Take the whole bloody hand!” hollered Kline. “Then I will replace it with a hook, so I can gut you like a fish.” The old man’s eyes were fierce as he tried to penetrate the blackness. He could make out the figure of a man against the night sky, but could determine no details of the killer.

The assassin was quiet for several seconds. “Take this,” he said. A plunking sound punctuated the night and a cylindrical device rolled from the darkness. The item struck Kline’s boot, and the gangster bent down to retrieve the spotting scope. “Hold your lantern up high, Ogre,” continued the voice. “Cover and uncover it two times, and then repeat. Use the scope to magnify the lighthouse.”

“Watch him,” said Kline to Frank as he angled the spotting scope toward the lighthouse. Behind him, he heard Maury’s lantern clicking as the ogre shuttered and unshuttered the lamp and repeated.

Kline sighted in on the distant tower, but saw nothing unusual. Then a figure stood in the lamp room, the silhouette dark against the rotating lens. This first outline assisted a second in standing and then waved to the men on the docks.

“That could be anyone,” growled Kline.

“Enough of these games,” warned the voice. Kline could hear the edge of frustration in the man’s tone. “If you cannot see for yourself, then you will have to take my word that it is your son. Load the gold onto the ship. When your payments have been made, you will be free to go. Your boy will be sent home tonight, unharmed.”

“Thank you,” said Kline. He watched the two distant figures disappear down a hatch into the bowels of the lighthouse. He lowered the spotting scope and sucked in on his cigar. Flicking the butt into the waters, he waved the spyglass at the hidden killer. “I’m afraid there will be no payments this evening.”

“I was hired to make you fall in line,” came the response from the shadows. “Don’t force me to kill you, Mr. Kline. That would not be good for either of us.”

Kline’s laughter echoed across the bay. “You have shown your cards, assassin. I thought you might be smarter than that. I would never have allowed your people to use me. It’s fifty-thousand this time, but how much next time? No I don’t like the idea of paying your filthy bosses anymore. You say it was me who crossed the line, but I was not the one who threatened our business relationship.”

“You may not care about your own safety, Kline, but what about your son? One signal from me, and he is a dead man.”

“That is easily remedied. Boys, make sure our friend here is unable to communicate with his partner.”

* * * *

The wind picked up and Garrett felt himself swaying on the length of rope. The building was old and tiny snaps and creaks could be heard from all around. Forty feet above his head, the lighthouse lamp rotated past, shooting golden rays across the dark waters of the bay. Garrett steadied himself and continued up the side of the tower. His arms worked overtime to haul his frame upwards and he was sweating when he reached the iron lattice encircling the third floor.

Merle greeted him from the railing and pointed to the open hatch in the lamp room. “He has B.S.,” whispered the dragon. “The boy’s hands are tied. They were lying on the floor watching the docks. He stood and waved and then took the boy below again.”

“Was he armed?” whispered Garrett, out of breath. He lifted his leg over the railing.

“I don’t think so, but be careful. He definitely moves like a killer.”

The two of them had fought many battles and Garrett trusted Merle’s insight. He held a finger to his lips before leaping lightly to the landing. He ducked below the glass section of the lamp room so as to stay out of the path of the rotating lens. Every time the reflector went past, he felt vulnerable. “Okay,” he whispered to the dragon. “Go and pull the cord. I’m ready. Remember to back off, in case he does come to the door. I don’t think he will, though.”

Merle nodded and fluttered from the railing, leaving Garrett hunkered behind the short wall. It wasn’t long before Garrett heard the bell attached to the pull cord signaling a visitor. Carefully, he backed away from the door leading into the interior of the lamp room. Crouched against the wall, he heard the clanging of the bell again and then silence. A subtle noise caught his attention and he braced himself for action.

Wearing his black fatigues, he blended well with the night shadows, but every time the brilliant light went overhead he felt himself tense. What if the assassin sees my face? What if the lamp rotates past me as he opens the door? These were the thoughts swirling through his mind. What if I’m not fast enough? The bottom of the door was wood and the top was glass. The wood section nearly touched his nose as it opened in front of him. He forced himself to breath calmly as the lamp rotated past overhead. For a second only, the killer was illuminated in front of him.

The man was young, in his early twenties, and dressed in black garb similar to his own. The tight fitting clothing showed that the man’s body was toned and athletic. Although wary, the killer barely glanced along the iron latticework. The open door protected Garrett from the killer’s eyes and the assassin moved silently to the railing overlooking the door below.

Garrett nodded to himself. The man carried himself gracefully; there was no doubt he would be a dangerous adversary. He knew the assassin did not suspect anyone other than B.S. to be in the tower with him and Garrett used this opportunity to slink forward silently. Coming up behind the young man, he readied himself to encircle his target in a choke. He raised his arms ready to pounce, but as his foot touched down, the iron lattice groaned and the killer spun to his right, alerted to the danger behind him.

Garrett sidestepped a punch that was aimed for his throat, detecting the reflection of light from the small blade the killer wielded. Both his hands shot out to latch onto his opponent’s wrist, as simultaneously his right leg lashed out sending a powerful kick that pinned the killer to the lighthouse railing. The man grunted and dropped the knife, as Garrett disarmed him. The assassin was quick to grab at Garrett’s leg and thrust him backward.

Garrett would have fallen, but he clutched at the railing for support. In front of him the killer readjusted his stance and moved a step out from the railing. Garrett heard the man intake a calming breath and he braced himself for the imminent attack. Even prepared for it, he barely had time to defend the flurry of viper quick punches lancing at his face and upper body. Just when he was growing more confident in his defence, a leg sweep took him to the floor of the iron walkway.

Garrett wormed his way back along the floor, as the man above him stomped down repeatedly. The iron lattice restricted Garrett’s movement and he took three solid stomps before he could push himself into a seated position. He was half up when he saw the younger man back up a step. The killer’s speed and power was such that Garrett never saw the flying knee until it connected with his forehead. He was thrown back, his senses scattered. He struggled to catch his breath, his body fighting to sit up, even though he made no conscious effort to do so. Images flashed through his mind; Coral in the park and Flower jumping on her with muddy paws. Garrett grunted and shook himself. A small part of him knew this was not the present and his life was in danger. Even so, he could not wake in time. Coral was replaced by a shadowy figure descending on him: Death.

The figure before him glowed with immense power and screamed incomprehensible threats. Arms thrust wide, it waited to encompass him in its death embrace. It waited?

Garrett struggled to rise, his senses coming to him as if awakening from a deep sleep. He hauled himself up on the railing, weak and disoriented. The killer advanced a step and Garrett kicked out feebly and missed.

“I said drop it!” screeched a familiar voice. The Killer stumbled forward. It was then Garrett made out the figure of Merle hovering behind the man’s shoulder. Garrett pulled away from the frightening countenance of his friend. The dragon’s look was fierce; his wings spread wide, his teeth bared, and the shadows sculpting him into a demonic figure from legend. Blue flames raced over the dragon, the crackling of the current loud – the hum of peril unmistakable.

The bright light from the lens flashed over the threesome and the assassin lunged at the dragon. Merle was already charged and a grand pop reverberated off the shell of the lighthouse, as an arc of blue flame once again engulfed the killer. The man stiffened and a gurgle escaped his open mouth. A second more powerful wave lit up the walkway and the surrounding sky. Garrett averted his eyes in the brilliance of the assault. When he opened them, the killer was gone.

“You… you incinerated him?” he gasped. He clung to the railing for support, his disbelief etched in every muscle of his face.

Merle flapped down and landed on the railing beside him. “Huh, I wish,” he said. “Still, I think that was an impressive enough display.” Awkwardly he adjusted his grip on the railing so he could peer into the darkness below. “Look,” he said excitedly, “he’s still smoking!” Garrett followed Merle’s pointing claw and nodded as he located the twisted body of the assassin on the rocks below. The man’s boot was on fire.

Despite the pain in his head, Garrett was impressed. “Nice one,” he admitted.

Merle shot his friend a grin and leapt onto the walkway. Waving Garrett forward, he opened the door to the lamp room. “Let’s go, partner,” he called flushed with excitement. “We’ll be heroes for rescuing B.S!”

Garrett stared at the dead man sixty feet below. “Not everyone will see us as heroes,” he cautioned, but Merle was already inside the lamp room yelling a ‘Hello’ down the hatch to B.S. and did not hear.

* * * *

Kline felt an enlivening rush fill his body as he issued the order for his security team to attack. Instantly, Maury and Hector jumped toward the concealed figure at the end of dock. Something hit Kline hard in the chest and his body rocked backward into the wagon. His exhilaration turned to fear as he located the bolt protruding through the thick sable coat.

Frank appeared at his side, a look of concern gracing his muzzle. “Boss?” he stammered, “You alright?” Kline was uncertain of how to answer. Frank grabbed onto the crossbow bolt and tugged. To both their surprise, it was retrieved through the gangster’s furs with little resistance. Kline sighed, remembering the chain shirt Maury had insisted he wear. Struggling to rise, he pushed Frank towards the end of the dock where a struggle could be heard. “Help them,” he shrieked. “I’m fine.”

A loud splash filled the night air followed by a ghastly bellow that reverberated off the surrounding bowl of the cliffs. Kline grabbed for the lantern and rushed toward the fray. Further terrible screams stopped him cold.

“Hector!” bellowed Frank “I’m coming!” The thundering of the minotaur’s hooves on the planking intensified as he charged into the darkness. Again, Kline went forward, but slower this time, and more cautious. He arrived at the location of the splash and watched as Maury hauled his soaking frame from the cold water. “He moves like the devil,” groaned the ogre. He groped at his forehead where a gash was bleeding down the side of his face. “Caught me with his crossbow,” he said. He stood and wobbled. A second spray of water alerted them that someone else had been thrown into the harbour.

“HECTOR!” Frank’s cry was almost hysterical. Kline pushed Maury forward and together they moved down the pier. They reached the end of the planking, where Frank kneeled at the lip of the dock surveying the dark waters. He looked up at them as they approached. “He stabbed him so many times!” sobbed Frank. “I couldn’t get in, he was too fast. Hector picked him up, but the assassin continued stabbing. Both of them fell in here.” Kline held up his lantern and Hector’s hairy body was visible, floating face down, ten feet out. Frank snorted and stood.

“Wait,” yelled Maury, reaching out to Frank, but the minotaur shrugged him loose and leapt into the water to retrieve his friend. Kline and Maury watched in silence, both scouring the water for signs of movement. Kline spun a full circle, his eyes searching. Frank swam back to the dock, supporting Hector’s unmoving body.

“Help me,” grunted Frank, and Maury reached down to haul Hector onto the planking. It was all the pair could do to lift the minotaur onto the dock. Kline glanced around nervously, a cold shiver dancing down his spine.

“He’s not breathing,” groaned Frank, pulling his dripping frame from the water. Maury hovered over Hector and shook his head.

“Let’s go,” said Kline with authority. “Load him onto the wagon with the chests.”

“But Hector…” said Frank stubbornly.

“We’re getting out of here now,” said Kline, pulling on Maury’s shoulder to get him moving. “I’m not leaving my money behind either.”

“But Hector’s not breathing,” said Frank on the verge of panic.

“That’s just one more reminder to move quickly,” snapped Kline. He marched toward the wagon.

“What about B.S?” asked Maury, pointing at the lighthouse.

“Just hope Garrett has done his job,” whispered Kline. “We’re not going anywhere near there. If the assassin isn’t floating somewhere under this pier, it will be the first place he returns to! Now get those chests loaded. We’ve done all we can.”

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