Chapter 47
The angry sea tossed around the tiny boat like it was a toy in a tub. Lightning flashed, and thunder rumbled. Stinging rain poured down as I motored into the abyss like a fool.
Like scaling a mountain, I rode the swells up, then plunged into the deepest valley.
It was slow going, but I finally pulled within sight of the superyacht.
I was ahead of the Coast Guard and the sheriff. When I finally caught up to the perps, I was all alone. The tiny boat closed in on the stern of the Endeavor.
The black helicopter rested on a helipad at the foredeck, still coughing black smoke. We’d definitely ruptured something with our onslaught.
A goon on the aft deck spotted me.
I shouted through the megaphone, “Sheriff’s Department. Heave to and prepare to be boarded.”
He shouldered his rifle. Muzzle flash lit up the night.
Bullets streaked in my direction, peppering the water and ripping across the bow.
I grabbed my rifle and took aim over the windscreen.
The boats pitched and rolled.
I timed my shot and squeezed the trigger when everything came into alignment.
The goon ducked for cover as my bullets peppered the gunwale.
He sprang back with another volley of gunfire.
I fired back and caught the scumbag in the throat. He flopped back against the deck.
I worked the helm and kept up with the Endeavor.
But it wasn’t long before another took his place. The dirtbag opened fire, and more bullets streaked through the air.
I managed the helm while angling my rifle over the windshield, firing at the scumbag. The rifle hammered, and brass shell casings danced.
The rain still poured down, and swells tossed the tiny boat around.
It was pure insanity.
We traded rounds with each other when I finally caught him in the shoulder, and he tumbled away.
By that time, two more goons had reached the aft deck, and another set of two hustled along the side deck.
They all opened fire, and muzzle flash flickered.
This was really a bad idea.
I veered the tiny boat away and ducked for cover.
Then one of them shouldered an RPG and took aim. They pulled the trigger, and the rocket spit fire, hissing through the air. It tore across the water and ripped across the bow, narrowly missing the boat.
It plowed into the water 30 yards away and detonated.
The explosion sent a plume of water into the sky.
To hell with that. Two can play that game.
I grabbed the rocket launcher, removed the safety, and took aim at the engine compartment.
The Endeavor was a lot bigger target than I was.
The goons kept firing at me. Bullets snapped through the air.
I timed my shot with the rise and fall of the swells and squeezed the trigger.
The grenade launched and zipped across the swells and drilled into the starboard side at the stern.
The explosion erupted in an amber ball, billowing black smoke. The grenade tore through steel and blasted into the engine compartment.
The RPG-7 was designed as an anti-tank weapon, and the shape charge created a high-velocity jet of molten metal. The fragmentation ripped through the engine compartment, rupturing fuel lines and setting the compartment ablaze.
The impact rocked the boat.
Flames and smoke billowed from the gaping hole in the side of the vessel.
Needless to say, the Endeavor lost all forward momentum.
I couldn't help but smile.
The blast had decimated the fire suppression system, and the blaze raged with abandon.
By that time, one of the thugs had reloaded the rocket launcher. He took aim and fired at me. The missile hissed a trail of smoke as it streaked straight for the boat.
This time his aim was better.
I had milliseconds to sprint to the stern and dive into the water before impact.
The boat exploded as I hit the inky swells.
An amber ball rolled into the sky.
Shards of fiberglass and plastic spewed in all directions.
I surfaced as debris rained down.
The Endeavor started taking on water, and the fire had spread. Pretty soon, the thugs on the aft deck scampered around, trying to figure out what the hell to do next.
The Endeavor was going down. It was only a matter of time.
The sheriff closed in with a few patrol boats, and the Coast Guard wasn’t far behind.
Soon, the vessel was surrounded by law enforcement, the deck ablaze.
The scumbags jumped off the boat, flailing around in the high seas.
Someone deployed a lifeboat.
The crew abandoned ship, and so did the rest of the goons.
The Coast Guard and Sheriff's Department fished them out of the water.
The sheriff picked me up as I bobbed on the swells.
It didn't take long for the 175-foot superyacht to sink into the depths. The sea swallowed her in a swirl of bubbles and froth. It happened faster than I would have imagined, and I'd seen a few ships go down.
An MH60T Jayhawk circled overhead, spotlighting the sea, looking for survivors.
When the last dirtbag had been rescued, I rode with the sheriff back to the station.
The perps were transferred to holding cells. According to the crew and passengers, everyone was accounted for except the two perps that I had killed in the shootout.
I caught up with the sheriff after the chaos had died down and the perps processed. He asked, "You want to tell me exactly what the hell happened?”
I shrugged. "Must have been some kind of explosion in the engine room.”
He gave me a doubtful look. “Two of these assholes are saying you fired an RPG at them.”
“They’re confused. They shot at me. The explosion must have been on their end.”
He knew better. “I saw the one that took you out.”
“Stick to that story, and we’ll be just fine,” I muttered.
“The boat is registered to an offshore shell company, which is probably owned by another shell company. I’m sure Viktor Kovalenko is behind it. He’s in interrogation room 2 if you want to talk to him.”
I lifted a surprised brow. “We bagged Kovalenko?”
Daniels nodded.
“I’m surprised he got anywhere near the action. But I think he wanted firsthand access to the platform.”
“You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t file a civil suit for unnecessary escalation of force and property damage. I don’t want to know how much that superyacht costs.”
I frowned.
“By the way, you’re on leave. Again.”
“Sounds good to me. I could use a break.”
The sheriff and I paid Kovalenko a visit. We took a seat across the table from him in the tiny interrogation room.
He was mid-40s with buzzed brown hair that was thinning on top. He had a hard face and narrow blue eyes. By this hour, he had a day’s worth of stubble on his dimpled chin. His designer suit was soaked.
“Kidnapping, attempted murder, extortion,” I said. “This list goes on.”
Kovalenko stared at us with hate in his eyes.
In his Russian accent, he said, “I want—“
“Let me stop you right there,” I said. “Before you ask for an attorney, you might want to think about naming everyone involved in the Consortium.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m out on the water, minding my own business for an evening cruise—”
“In a storm,” I snarked.
“When all of a sudden, my boat sinks. A very expensive boat. I wonder who’s responsible.”
“Your men opened fire on an officer.”
He shrugged. “There are all kinds of pirates on the high seas. One can’t be too careful.” He paused and glared at me. “Said officer didn’t properly identify himself.”
I recognized the voice. This was the scumbag I’d talked to on Memo.
“Said officer clearly identified himself.”
“He began shooting at my men. They were merely reacting. In fear for their lives.”
My eyes narrowed at him. I didn’t like him before, and I really didn’t like him now.
“Perhaps it is you who needs a lawyer, Deputy Wild,” he said with a grin. He just knew he was going to get out of this.