43. LIEUTENANT COLONEL WEST
West had trussed up Mo herself. His hands were zip-tied together behind his back and then his knot of fists were tied off to his back belt buckle. He was on his knees and his ankles were also zip-tied together, so even if he could get to his feet he would be hobbled. And blindfolded.
“Kurtz?” he asked.
“Here, Mr. Mo.”
“Who else is here? Anyone else with you? Broz?”
“Quiet!” West shouted.
The rest of the mariners were lined up like ducks in a row along the edge of the Potemkin’s railing. None were restrained so tightly as King Kong. In fact, Mo was set apart from the other men and facing them, like a platoon sergeant in front of his men. That creepy spick Montero loomed over him, flicking his straight razor open and closed.
She thought the deck of
