Hunt threaded the end of his rope through first one hook, and then the other, hiding behind the back of the boat as he did so. Then he tied a knot to secure the rope in place that was now passed through two points on the stern of the boat and two points on the front of the seaplane.
Step 1 complete, Hunt thought. Now for the tricky part.
He held onto the boat as it began to rock. Jayden and Maddy were stepping on board. He knew he would have to be very, very careful, that should he draw the attention of the police boat crew before he was ready, it would likely cost him his life, and possibly that of his friends. Never mind the law and due process, either, Hunt reminded himself — out here, on a lonely stretch of Cuban coast, the law was these two men who likely had a high degree of discretion when it came to what they reported back to the precinct.
“We ran out of gas,” Jayden was saying in English. The word “visa” was used a few times by both law officers. Hunt eased smoothly along the back of the boat to the boarding ladder. He gripped the metal rungs and hung in place, listening to make sure both officers were talking, for if one was not, it could mean he was walking around the boat, and that would spell the end for Hunt if he came to the stern. But Jayden and Maddy together did a good job of keeping the talk going, of keeping both Cubans engaged in conversation, and so Hunt put his feet on the bottom rung of the ladder and hauled himself up a step, careful not to apply too much force and rock the boat as he did so.
“Miami,” Jayden was saying, “we came from Miami but got lost, off course, and then we ran out of gas. We’re sorry, it was an accident…”
Maddy also chimed in with corroborating words of her own, while Hunt crept up another step on the ladder. Only one more step to go, but that one would take him over the transom, making him easily visible to all on board. He had only one small trick up his sleeve to stack the deck in his favor just a little bit, and it was time to play that card.
Hunt extracted the emergency penlight he carried from the pocket of his boardshorts, wary of either making a noise while undoing the pocket catch or of dropping the item. Penlight in hand, he monitored the conversation, which was escalating in tension. Hunt figured his friends were perhaps thirty seconds to a minute from being taken into custody. Gripping the corner of the boat with one hand, he tossed the penlight up and over the stern of the boat, so that it landed in the water along the boat’s port side.
Doing this meant he had to hope they didn’t see where the throw originated, but this small bit of luck was on his side. Both Cubans spun and looked left upon hearing the small splash made by the flashlight hitting the water a few feet away. Jayden, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, seized on the opportunity and sprung into action.
He flung himself into both men, one arm around each of them, while Hunt hauled himself up over the transom and into the boat. The blast of the AK was followed closely by the pop of a pistol. Hunt saw fiberglass shards spray into the air as the rounds chewed up the boat’s deck and rails. Fortunately the officers had only been able to squeeze their triggers reflexively and had not been able to raise, much less actually aim, their weapons.
“Maddy, get in the plane!” Hunt didn’t look to her for an answer, but instead landed on the two water patrolmen alongside Jayden, stripping the AK from the squat, burlier man who looked as though he would be at home on the offensive line of the Miami Dolphins. Jayden, meanwhile, was able to snatch the pistol from the taller, thinner officer. Hunt and Jayden trained their newly acquired weapons on the marine patrol team. Both Spanish-speaking men immediately put their hands in the air without a word.
“What’s our plan, Carter?” Jayden side-mouthed to Hunt.
“Nobody gets hurt. We go our way, they go theirs.”
But the sound of additional engines approaching made that prospect suddenly seem much less likely.
Hunt looked to his left along the coast in time to see two more Cuban policia patrol boats speeding towards them. Jayden moved to the steering console but Hunt told him not to start the boat.
“Why the heck not?”
“Because we’ll just be in a boat chase, two against one. We’ll lose.”
“So what, you’re giving up?” The look on Jayden’s face was one of incomprehension, like he simply could not believe what he was hearing out of Hunt’s mouth. But Hunt shook his head.
“Not giving, up, I just think we should leave a different way. Jayden, get in the plane. Take the pilot’s seat. I need you to steer.”
“Wha — what?” Jayden stammered. “Carter, the plane’s out of gas, remember? Not even vapors left!”
“But the boat’s not. I tied a tow line from the boat to the plane. We’ll have our new friends here drive the boat at full throttle, and I think that’ll be enough to get us airborne in the plane.”
“You think?”
“Yeah.” He eyed the rapidly approaching marine patrols and noticed that one of them had a mounted 50-caliber machine gun on its prow.
“But then what? Even if we get airborne, we’ve still got no gas!” Jayden eyed the boat’s fuel fill cap, on the top of the transom. “If we had all the time in the world, we could siphon some out of this boat and then transfer it to the plane, but…” He pointed to the incoming patrol boats, which were now within seconds of reaching them. “…we don’t.”
“That’s okay, the plane can go where the boats can’t go.” Hunted pointed to the jungle beyond the beach. “We can glide inland somewhere to escape the boats. We’ll still be on the run and they’ll see where we went and radio for help, but it’ll buy us some time.”
Jayden threw up the hand not holding the gun. “Better than what I’ve got, which is nothing. Let’s rock.”
“Get in the plane and keep the wheel steady once I get us underway. It’ll tend to drift — keep the nose pointed at the stern of the boat.”
“Nose to ass, got it.”
“You would.
“Go.”
“But wait — how will you—”
“Jayden, there’s not time to explain. Just go. I’ll handle it from here.”
With a scowl toward the Cuban polica, Jayden swapped guns with Hunt, giving him the AK and taking the pistol with him back to the plane.
Hunt waved the barrel of the automatic rifle toward the Cuban who had been driving the boat earlier, and then toward the steering console. He looked at the other officer and pointed to the seat opposite the driver’s, and that patrolman moved slowly to it and sat.
The boat’s engine was already on and idling, so Hunt waited for Jayden to jump out of the boat, swim to the plane, and climb into the pilot’s seat, which seemed to take forever. The incoming patrol boats were close enough for Hunt to see that one of them carried two officers, while the other carried three — with one on the mounted gun.
From his position in the rear of the patrol boat facing the front, Hunt shouted some Spanish words that meant ‘go’ to the boat driver, waving the gun muzzle at him when he turned around to look. The Cuban put the vessel into gear, slowly at first. The drag of the plane caused the boat to angle to one side, but then the driver compensated by adding more speed, and the floatplane’s swings became less pronounced until it was being towed in a straight line behind the boat.
Hunt hated to turn his gaze away from the boat driver and his associate who was no doubt watching Hunt like a hawk, but when the 50-cal gun from the leading patrol boat in their wake began to crackle as it spit out rounds, he forced himself to turn around for a two-second look. And that look was all he needed to know that his plan had a very slim chance of succeeding indeed.