CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE #3
At 2231, Burton Drilling stock resumed trading and collapsed again.
The network stopped expressing the decline in percentages and began discussing whether the company could open the next morning.
Protesters filled the pavement outside its offices.
Former employees called into broadcasts.
Families from Platform Nine appeared together, holding Dorothy’s photograph beside photographs of the dead.
Then Voss released a video statement. His face remained shadowed and his location hidden, but his voice was unmistakable.
He said Dorothy had anticipated retaliation.
She had divided the evidence among attorneys, reporters, regulators, and people capable of protecting it.
He confirmed that Hollis ordered surveillance of witnesses and destruction of company records after Platform Nine.
More files would follow automatically if anyone tried to stop him.
The warehouse erupted over the radio. Eric whooped. Someone banged a mug against a desk. Cam grinned into the dark.
“Dead man looks annoyingly healthy.”
Luke did not celebrate. Voss being alive changed Hollis’s threat calculation. A frightened man ran. A cornered man destroyed. Hollis was both, and he owned a yacht carrying armed men, unknown evidence, and a crew he was already forcing to ignore safety alarms.
The Imperium altered course five degrees south. Eric compared the heading with weather, shipping traffic, and fuel range.
“Still consistent with Bermuda, but he’s angling around the cutter’s likely approach.”
Hex studied the security escort.
“His small boat is dropping back.”
The dark craft slowed until it lay between the Imperium and its pursuers. Its six passengers spread along the rails. The drone’s thermal camera showed long objects coming out of cases.
“They know we’re here,” Cam said.
Luke ordered both boats wider apart and reduced speed. Hex’s team shifted behind reinforced panels. Eric relayed the threat to the Coast Guard and transmitted the live drone feed. The cutter was twelve minutes away. Twelve minutes was nothing on a clock and an indecent amount of time in open water.
The dolphins reacted before the men did. A sharp mechanical chatter entered the water from the security boat. One animal veered hard. Luke felt alarm ripple through the pod.
“They dropped something,” he said. “Powered. Small.”
The drone camera found a compact underwater unit descending from the stern, its propeller spinning. Whether sensor, decoy, or weapon, Luke did not wait to learn by sacrificing a dolphin. He pushed a warning through the pod. They scattered beyond its path, then regrouped ahead of the Imperium.
Hex’s voice came level over the radio.
“I can disable the escort’s engine.”
“Negative,” Luke said. “Not unless they fire.”
“You never let me have hobbies.”
A muzzle flash answered them from the security boat. The shot struck water fifty yards short, warning rather than accuracy. A second flash followed, closer. Luke ducked behind the console as Cam turned hard, throwing a wall of spray between them and the shooter.
“Hobby approved,” Luke said.
Hex’s boat accelerated across the escort’s stern while his drone plunged low, lights blazing suddenly into the gunmen’s faces. The distraction lasted seconds. It was enough. A precisely placed round shattered the exposed housing beside the escort’s outboard controls.
Hex’s men immediately ceased fire. The dark boat yawed, lost speed, and began turning helplessly in its own wake.
“Engine disabled,” Hex reported. “Egos remain tragically operational.”
The security men raised weapons again, but a new sound rolled across the Gulf: the deep amplified warning of the approaching cutter. Its searchlight swept the water, found the disabled boat, then reached past it to the Imperium. Blue lights ignited against the horizon.
The Imperium increased speed. One engine screamed through the dolphins’ hearing, its rhythm rough and deteriorating.
On the drone feed, Hollis stood outside the bridge shouting at the captain.
An armed man dragged a crew member away from the controls.
Another headed below carrying the fireproof document bin.
Luke’s pulse steadied. Chaos had shape now. Hollis would try to destroy the remaining evidence, force the failing engine, and use his own crew as insulation against anyone boarding. Every bad decision came from the same belief: that his will outweighed consequence.
Luke keyed the common channel.
“Imperium, this is a civilian vessel operating in support of federal authorities. Reduce speed and comply with Coast Guard instructions. Your starboard engine is showing signs of failure. Continuing at power endangers everyone aboard.”
Static answered. Then Hollis’s voice burst through, distorted but unmistakable.
“You have no authority. Stay away from my vessel.”
Cam leaned toward Luke’s microphone.
“Your vessel sounds like a washing machine full of hubcaps and we have more authority than you can possibly imagine.”
There was a long stretch of silence, Hollis screaming at his new security team.
“Who are you?” he demanded. Luke laughed.
“Tell your security team, we are LEGACY.”