Out of Time 01 - Out of Time

see his grandfather. “There are so many things I wanted to say.”
    “Consider them said,” Sebastian said and took Simon’s hand, covering it with both his own. “Now hurry, and for God’s sake, be careful.”
    Simon studied the older man’s face for the last time. “I will,” he promised and squeezed Sebastian’s hand firmly before letting go. He nodded once and then turned on his heel and left the room without looking back.

Chapter Thirty
    T he only thing worse than a raging storm was a raging storm on the ocean. Even as Simon struggled to keep his footing on the muddy, treacherous slope, he could see the whitecaps whipped up into a frenzy by the fierce wind. The sea churned wave after merciless wave onto the shore, dragging out the sand into the murky, bone chilling depths beyond.
    He’d paid a fortune to the cabbie to take him through the Holland Tunnel to New Jersey, but far more precious was the time it had taken. More than two hours eaten away, leaving one golden hour until the lunar eclipse. He looked up into the black sky and wondered if he’d even know when it came. The moon was blanketed behind an endless cloud that seemed to cover the whole of the earth. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered if he didn’t find Elizabeth.
    He would find her; he was sure of that. His nightmares had led him to this place, to this moment in time, where the images that had tortured him would come to their inevitable end.
    His foot slipped on some loose pebbles, and he grabbed the thorny edge of a bramble bush to keep from falling. The thorns dug into his palm. Fresh rivulets of blood mixed with the rain and puddled in his hand. His fingers curled into a fist. He wasn’t beaten yet. There was no power on this earth that could keep him from trying. Elizabeth was alive, and he’d pay whatever price that was asked to keep her that way.
    The hillside he stood on gave him a good view of the marina below. It was a private dock, no more than five slips, surrounded on the shore by a chain link fence. Two men carried large casks out of a small warehouse at the base of the dock to a yacht sitting at the end of the pier. A third stood at the gangplank barking orders.
    Simon crouched down into the undergrowth. If he was going to have a chance in hell of confronting King, it would have to be on the shore. There were too many men around the boat. But if they made any move to leave, he’d take his chances there.
    Fate decided to throw him a crumb. Another man emerged on the gangplank and stopped to talk to the supervisor. A flash of lightning lit the night sky. King.
    Simon hurried down the rest of the hill, skidding to a halt at the base of the fence. It would leave him exposed to climb over it, but there was nothing to be done for it. The gate was well secured with a heavy chain. Patting his jacket pockets, he felt the outline of the guns. They might not kill the bastard, but from what Elizabeth had said about that night in the storeroom, they would slow him down. He could feel the stake in his inner breast pocket, pressing against his chest, and he was warmed by the thought of shoving it into King’s heart.
    The metal fence shook and rattled under his weight. He clambered up the side, but his jacket got snagged on one of the twisted ends of wire. He yanked at it, but he was still caught. He gave it another tug and the jacket came free, but one of the guns fell from his pocket and landed on the wrong side of the fence. Damn it. He was vulnerable enough without trying this stunt again. One would have to do. Easing over the fence, he landed in a crouch and crept to the back of the storehouse.
    Pressing himself against the back door, he waited and listened. Muffled voices came from the other side. He strained to hear King’s among them. Then he heard the unmistakable voice that sounded like oil dripping on silk. Bastard.
    The voices faded away as the men trundled another barrel back to the boat. The thin sliver of light shining under the door died. With the cover of darkness on his side, Simon gripped the rusty knob and eased it open. King stood silhouetted on the opposite side of the room and watched his men wheel the last barrel down the pier.
    Simon eased the gun from his pocket and stepped into the room. He was sure the pounding of his heart would give him away, but King didn’t seem to take any notice of him. Simon took another tentative step forward and raised his gun.
    “I was beginning to wonder,” King said