Free Exodus 2022 by Kenneth G. Bennett

reporter tumbled through the air—too battered to try to right himself. Fifty feet he dropped, smacking the frigid blue-green water like a sack of cement. A Zodiac manned by two of Beck’s crew waited by the side of the ship. They hauled Ellis out of the water and motored toward the salmon stream. And the bears.
     
    Beck showered in the solarium and silently accepted a fresh change of clothes from a hovering attendant. Other staff appeared with rags and mops and began cleaning the deck, wiping up the blood. They didn’t talk, and none of them so much as glanced at Beck.
    Beck dressed, and the adrenaline and rage he’d felt while fighting Ellis dissipated. He needed a drink.
    He picked up a pair of binoculars and studied the rocky beach where his men had deposited the prisoner.
    Collins appeared at his side. Wilden was there, too. Beck said, “I told you to lock down the ship. No one on the weather deck except your team.”
    Collins and Wilden looked at Beck, glanced at each other.
    “We were locked down, sir,” said Collins. “Still are.”
    Beck stared at him, then flicked his eyes to Wilden. “There was a guy, near the aft helipad. I saw him, just for a second, when Ellis was going for the gun.”
    Collins and Wilden said nothing.
    “Look at the surveillance tape. Find out who it was.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Beck lifted the binoculars to his eyes again and found Ellis’s boots and legs protruding from a thicket of alders just above the high-tide line. The bears were still there—fifty yards from Ellis’s body—stabbing fat silver salmon with curved claws, scooping them from the creek. They seemed unperturbed. Completely uninterested in Ellis.
    ’Til nightfall , Beck thought. He hoped Ellis survived long enough to feel it.
     
     

CHAPTER 21
    JOE AND ELLA SAT IN SILENCE, gazing out the window of the Washington State ferry Elwha as a fiery sun sank into a platinum sea. It was 8:30 p.m. and in the fading summer glow it felt like the Elwha was motoring through a magical archipelago, a fairy-tale ocean worthy of Narnia or Middle Earth.
    Joe stood. Stretched. “Restroom,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” Ella watched him walk toward the middle of the ship.
     
    Beck’s men were watching too. A few tables away. Dodd and Drucker—the guys Beck had dispatched from Marauder , the ones who’d located Joe and Ella in the ferry terminal parking lot.
    Dodd studied a new message on his phone.
    “Boss wants the party transported to the Northern Mercy .”
    Drucker grunted. “Yeah? And how the hell are we supposed to do that?”
    “We’re not. Not yet anyway. Just supposed to follow. It’ll happen in Anacortes. Maybe in the parking lot. Plan’s still coming together.
    Drucker looked at his watch. “Boat docks in half an hour. Hope they work fast.”
     
    Joe exited the restroom and paused at a water fountain to get a drink.
    “Excuse me,” said a woman. “Could I ask you a huge favor?”
    She was petite. Older. Gray hair pulled back in a ponytail.
    “What’s up?” Joe asked. 
    “My truck,” the woman replied. “I’m driving my husband’s old pickup, and the door is stuck.”
    “You lost the key?”
    “No, no. I have the keys.” She held up a huge jangling set of the things. “The door just binds, is all. It’s an old truck, like I said. My husband always yells at me to pull harder. Usually it works, but I cannot get it open for the life of me, and I’m all alone, and—”
    “I can give it a shot,” said Joe. “Which part of the car deck?”
    “Oh, you are a saint!” said the woman, beaming and touching Joe’s arm. “Thank you so much.”
    She led him toward the rear stairwell. “It’s near the back—won’t take thirty seconds. Big strong guy like you.”
    Joe followed her down the stairs.
    “You might want to try a little WD-40 on the door—if you have any,” said Joe as he followed. 
    “I’ll definitely do that,” replied the woman, whose pace seemed to be increasing as