Chapter 50
"Heave to and prepare to be boarded," a petty officer shouted through a megaphone.
The superyacht sliced through the swells, the RHIB boat the assault squad had used in tow.
We joined the party and boarded. Again, I told Paige to stay on the Raptor for her safety, but she had a mind of her own.
The sheriff and I climbed the steps to the aft deck and joined the petty officers. The squad broke off, and two petty officers took each side deck and worked their way forward. We entered the salon with the others and filed in, weapons shouldered.
Daniels had alerted the Coast Guard to the fact that Rory had a potential hostage. I just hoped things didn't get out of hand.
The ship had a modern minimalist design. High ceilings and luxurious furniture. Large window walls offered copious amounts of light during the day and stunning vistas.
We cleared the salon and advanced down a forward passage. At the central floating staircase, the sheriff and I spiraled up the steps to another salon on the bridge deck. That's where we ran into the two thugs who had escaped Silas’s boat.
It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out this was a losing situation for them as we flooded into the compartments, our weapons shouldered.
They put their weapons on the deck and raised their hands in surrender.
"Face down! On the deck, now!" a petty officer shouted, keeping his rifle aimed at the scumbags.
They complied.
A third man with them set his pistol on the ground and assumed the position. He wore a weathered black baseball cap. The same baseball cap as the bunny shooter at the mall. I recognized him as one of Rory’s security guards. We had met at his office.
"Where's your boss?" I shouted.
"In his stateroom," one of the thugs said.
The stateroom was located aft of the bridge-deck salon. It was a spacious compartment with its own private balcony.
The sheriff and I huddled at the hatch with the other petty officers. One of them banged on the door and shouted. "United States Coast Guard. Open up!”
There was no response.
A few swift kicks, and the hatch flung wide.
The team stormed into the opulent compartment.
Rory stood there with his hands in the air and wide eyes.
"On the deck! Now!” a petty officer shouted.
Rory hesitated for a moment, then complied.
The petty officer advanced and restrained his wrists with flex cuffs.
They yanked him to his feet and read him his rights.
"Where's Tonya?" I asked.
Rory said nothing.
He was too smart to talk to law enforcement. With the evidence we had against him, I didn't think even the best attorneys could get him off. But this had to be done by the book. No doubt they’d try to get the evidence suppressed.
The petty officers escorted him out of the compartment.
I grilled the other suspects. "Where's Tonya?"
Nobody said anything.
"You think that guy gives a shit about you? You're all going down. The only hope any of you have is to flip on your boss. First one to speak wins.”