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The gunmen acted quickly and off-loaded the crate before she could devise a counterattack. Just one thought ran through her mind. If it could not be saved, then it must be destroyed.
With her heart pounding, she stepped to the bridge doorway and peeked aft. Pablo was busy with Gu
A
Surfacing off its outer beam, she moved in close alongside to stay concealed. She heard a man jumping aboard, then noticed the boat was drifting clear of the Drake. With a swift kick she reached up the side of the hull and grasped a rail stanchion on the deck. Then the engines rumbled, and the boat lurched forward. A
She lay patiently, catching her breath and building her nerve, as the boat raced toward shore. It would be a half-hour journey. With darkness her ally, she waited for the sky to turn black. Salt water sprayed her face, and she bounced like a rodeo rider, battling to hold her position while praying no one looked her way.
Pablo and his men hung on the stern deck rail for several minutes, watching the Drake behind them. The barge faced them, obscuring the launch of the small Zodiac from its stern. After several minutes, the party moved into the cabin. Pablo made a phone call, then sat and drank a bottle of Dos Equis.
When a charcoal wash crossed the skies, A
Though the odds were against her in a gunfight with the full crew, this lone man she could subdue, especially with the element of surprise on her side. Her objective was simple: just get the crate over the side by any means she could. Perhaps Pitt and the NUMA ship could find it later. At least it would stay out of foreign hands.
She inched backward along the side rail and dropped quietly to the deck. Voices came from the main cabin, which was several steps below deck and out of clear view. Just above the cabin was the boat’s cockpit, where A
She slipped the compact SIG Sauer from its holster, reversed her grip, and sprung at Fidel. He never heard her coming. She aimed for his temple but struck high, and the pistol butt skipped over the crown of his head. He grunted and fell on his side, dropping his handgun to the deck.
A
Only stu
Hunched over the crate, A
He grunted and pulled harder, so she let fly with another kick, co
A
“That will be staying here, my dear,” boomed the deep voice of Pablo as he pressed his Glock pistol into her flesh.
16
TWINKLING LIGHTS BLANKETED THE SHORE IN A glowing wave of amber, but the serene image only irritated Pitt. The full outline of the Mexican boat had long since disappeared, leaving only its ru
Pitt held the tiller steady, tracking to the boat’s last visible position while hoping it didn’t dramatically alter course. He didn’t realize that the Mexican coast from the border south offered no natural harbor for some thirty-five miles. After ru
“There!” Giordino shouted, pointing off the bow.
A mile ahead, they could just make out a small rock jetty that fingered into the Pacific. A primitive quay had been constructed over the first fifty feet of rock—and here an illuminated boat sat, idling. As they motored closer, Pitt and Giordino could make out several figures moving along the dock to a waiting four-door pickup truck. Two figures returned to the boat, then carried an oblong crate to the truck and dropped it onto the rear bed.
“That’s our box,” Giordino said. “Do you see A
“No, but she might be one of the people in the truck. I’ll try to get us to shore on the other side of the jetty.”
He kept the boat well out to sea as they approached the jetty and backed off the throttle to lessen the motor’s whine. When they had drawn close, the Mexican boat suddenly burst away from the quay. It looped around the end of the jetty, coming within a whisker of flattening the unseen Zodiac as it sped down the coast.
Rocked hard by the wake, the Zodiac’s lone fuel can tipped over. Giordino shook the can before setting it upright. “We don’t have the fuel to chase her any distance.”
Pitt spotted the truck’s taillights illuminating as its engine started. “Then we best get to shore.”
He gu
Giordino leaped out of the Zodiac and was dragging it past the tide line even before Pitt could kill the motor. Both men sprinted to the dirt road. The truck was just a block ahead. Without a ready alternative, they took off after it.
The truck traveled slowly over the rough road until it came to a paved cross street, brightly illuminated and dotted with traffic. A string of tiny stores in crumbling stucco buildings ran along it, most of them closed for the night. But a handful of cantinas and small restaurants kept a steady stream of people flowing along the sidewalks. Turning left, the truck picked up speed briefly, then caught up to some slow-moving traffic. Pitt and Giordino reached the intersection a few seconds later.
“I’m not keen to run a midnight marathon without my glow-in-the-dark racing shorts.” Giordino gasped as they watched the truck accelerate ahead.