Miami Massacre

The Merry Drew was underway and moving sluggishly in the general direction of Biscayne Bay. The PT crossed her a hundred yards astern and heeled into an upwind run. Soldados with light machine guns were lashed to the deck, some were poking up from the cabin, others took positions around the hatch to the troop compartment. Toro was in the co

The Cuban's voice, lashed back by the wind, a

Bolan yelled, "Let's run by once and confirm that identification."

"Si! We identify on the upwind run!"

Bolan tied himself to the gun mount and tried to estimate the correction he would need in view of the shuddering, heaving platform, the relative speeds of the two vessels, and the howling gale-force winds. They were quickly closing on the larger vessel and begi

The cruise boat was brightly lighted from stem to stern. Bolan could make out people standing in the protected overhang of the boat deck, and an interested crowd was gathering at a brightly lighted window which he presumed to be the main lounge. The Merry Drew was not quite a passenger liner but she was, at worst, a junior edition of one. She seemed a stable mass beside the plunging PT boat, her bow cutting smoothly through the wild waters in an undisturbed transit. The bridge was high and sleek, and the pilot house was dimly illumined behind a row of square windows reaching from one side of the vessel to the other.

Her passengers were inspecting the PT with considerable interest. One of them waved, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted, "Ship ahoy!" Others around him were laughing and pointing at the PT as it plunged and bucked through the cresting waters, obviously amused by the wild ride being experienced by those upon her.

A man in a white uniform stepped to the wing of the bridge, a megaphone in his hand, and called over as they passed abeam. "Do not attempt a transfer of passengers. Suggest you follow us into the harbor."

Toro lifted his own bullhorn and replied, "What we transfer, capitan, can be accomplished at sea!" The PT lunged forward in a sudden acceleration and quickly slid ahead of the Merry Drew, heading off into a wide arc and coming about for the downwind run.

Toro swivelled about to grin at Bolan and shouted, "We go! Vamos!"

The ru

The next downwind run was to the Merry Drew's port side and there were no hands on deck. Lights were being extinguished throughout and there were no catcalls or hooting cries of good humor to greet Bolan's raiders. Automatic weapons spat at them from the bow, the boat deck, the bridge, and handguns were being unloaded from every point. Standing tall against the withering fire, Bolan cranked the Honeywell into a stu

"Bring her in to a hundred meters on the upwind!" he shouted to Toro.

The Cuban nodded and the PT whirled back for a stern-to-bow sweep. Again the Honeywell transmitted a walking line of thunderstorms, this time along the boat deck and into the lounge, then into a concentration of men at the bow. A halfhearted crackling of return fire was noted but not actually experienced aboard the PT, and they were swinging once again into the jouncing return circle for another downwinder.

Bolan's wound was bleeding again and his left arm virtually useless. The Merry Drew was afire in numerous places, most notably upon the bridge deck and wheelhouse, the crackling flames revealing men in frantic motion all about. She was pursuing an erratic course and obviously foundering.

Toro called back, "I think you have knocked out the pilot house, Matador! She wallows in the troughs!" He cut back on the power, maintaining just enough forward motion to assure control, and pointed off into the darkness. "Sound the trumpets, senor, the cavalry approaches!"

Bolan swiveled about to gaze into the direction of new interest. From out of the darkness, perhaps five hundred yards behind, two sets of varicolored lights were moving rapidly toward them.

"Police boats?" Bolan yelled.

Toro shook his head, "Not this far out, amigo. We have played the games with these ones many times also. These are your Coast Guard!" The PT was begi

Bolan looked back to the Merry Drew. She was brightly lighted now by leaping flames which seemed to extend from bow to stern. A group of men were crowding about a boat davit, frantically trying to lower a lifeboat. Bolan found the scene holding less and less interest for him. He raised his gaze to the skies, now flashingly illuminated by both the flames from the Merry Drew and an almost continual display of heavenly fireworks.

"The storm has found us, Matador!"Toro shouted.

Bolan nodded, warmly patted the shoulders of his crewman, unhooked himself from the gun, and joined Toro at the co

Men were moving about excitedly down below, in the cabin, and the Honeywell crew were calmly dismantling the weapon. Toro said, "We play hide and seek with the radar, Matador. Maybe we will lose them in the storm, maybe they will run us out of fuel." He shrugged. "Do not worry, we will elude them, at least until we have gained the appearance of peaceful fishermen."

Bolan was looking at his clothing.

Toro laughed and said, "I do not think we can make you into a fisherman, Matador. We will run you ashore near Hollywood, my friend. You can make it safely from there, no?"

"I hate to leave you this way, Toro. Maybe we will meet again some day, and stomp snakes together."

"This I would greatly like, Matador."

Bolan went below then, and made his farewells to the rest of the soldados. This was a group he would never forget. He put a fresh bandage on his wound, had another quick cup of jolting rum, and returned topside to co