He reprimanded himself. Goddammit, Stevens! Get your head on straight.
Struggling with all that was in him to toss his current feelings aside, he pictured a map of their present position on the river. If calculations were accurate, it should be less than twenty miles to the open body of water.
Other fishing vessels were starting to cast off their mooring lines, with a flurry of activity on each boat. More engines started. One by one, and some two at a time, the boats started heading toward the Yangtze. With deckhands and captains being preoccupied with navigating the river and preparing fishing nets, this was Grant’s chance to head out.
His brain was telling him it was time to fire up the engine. He tried reaching for the switch. “What the hell’s wrong with my arm?!” he mumbled softly, staring down, not understanding what was happening to him. A familiar noise made him spin around. It was coming from somewhere on deck.
James jerked his head up, and looked at Grant, before he dove for his rucksack and pulled out the radio, just as a voice said:
“Yankee Two-Seven calling Alpha Tango! Come in Alpha Tango! Over!”
“Alpha Tango! Go ahead Two-Seven! Over!”
“Yankees Two-Seven and Three-Six request a ride! Do you copy?! Over!”
“Hell yes! Copy that! Holding position!”
“Arriving under fiver! Out!”
High-fives went around by the men sitting on the cabin floor. Then looking up at Grant, they saw relief on his face before he lowered his head, taking in long deep breaths.
A short while later, hearing a vehicle, Novak came rushing into the cabin. “Boss! There’s some kinda ratty-ass lookin’ vehicle comin’ from our eight.”
Grant ducked his head, trying to see out the small window, before he stepped out on the port side deck.
The driver hit the brakes. The wheels skidded on dirt. The beat-up vehicle jerked back and forth as the engine suddenly stalled. The vehicle came to rest parallel to the boat.
Adler and Diaz climbed out from the right side back seat. But who the hell was driving?
“Jesus!” Grant said under his breath. Kwan!
Chapter 17
The three men jumped onto the boat’s stern, and immediately rushed into the cabin. Grant stood with his back against the wheel, shaking his head. “We’ll talk later.”
Adler tilted his head toward Kwan. “Tell him about your equipment.” Kwan didn’t respond. “It went boom! He blew it up!”
They were wasting precious time. “Fill me in later; sounds interesting.” Grant turned to Novak. “Mike, dump that vehicle.”
Novak hustled off the boat. Once he started the car’s engine, he shifted into reverse, then stepped on the gas. The tires spun on slick mud before they caught.
Grant pointed to Slade. “Ken, get ready to cast off!” Slade ran on deck, crouching low in the pouring rain, holding onto the mooring line. As he waited, he kept his eyes in motion, watching for anything out of the ordinary, constantly wiping rain from his face.
“Joe, take the wheel.” Adler dropped his rucksack then immediately went forward, as he wiped his wet hands on his pants. The only instrument available by the wheel was a compass. At least we’ve got a GPS, he thought gratefully. He waited for Grant to give the word.
Grant ducked down, looking out the window, waiting for Novak. “Joe, get ready to fire it up as soon as Mike comes back.”
“Roger, Skipper.” With one hand on the wheel, Adler stood in the doorway facing aft, trying to spot Novak.
The sound of the car engine suddenly went quiet. Within two minutes, Novak came running back, jumped on deck, then quickly ducked into the cabin. He squatted down, then saw Grant looking at him. He gave a thumb’s up. “Deep-sixed, Boss! Didn’t see anybody watching.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Adler started the engine. As soon as he did, Slade undid the line, then he waited until the boat cleared the dock. He came back inside the cabin, dripping wet, and immediately sat down. He took his Uzi from Stalley.
Kwan stood by the forward starboard door, looking aft. They were already in the middle of the river, and the last boat to leave the dock. Then he looked toward the bow, seeing they were approaching the section of river where it was about to join the Yangtze.
“Take over the wheel,” Grant said to him. “If anybody decides to put 'eyes' on us, it’d be best if they saw you.” As Kwan stepped behind the wheel, Grant said, “Listen, we owe you a lot. I want you to know that it took guts to do what you did. Just want to say thanks.”
“Sure,” Kwan responded, glancing at the compass. “I haven’t taken this boat out very often.” Purchased with CIA funds, the boat was specifically chosen because it would blend in if the need ever arose.
“Don’t worry. If there’s trouble, Joe can takeover again. He’s a bonafide Navy Boatswain’s Mate!” Grant sat on the deck, intentionally bumping his elbow against Adler. “You know, you scared the shit out of me.”
“Scared myself. That was one helluva mess of wires.”
Grant whispered, “And the cans?” Adler pointed to Diaz. “Okay. Now, give me a short version. Why the explosions?”
“Couldn’t leave that shit, Skipper, and we couldn’t take it. Frank and I got up on the roof to make sure it was clear. The best we could tell, it was. So, decision was made. We’d do a ‘controlled’ explosion.”
“You mean ‘two’ controlled explosions,” Grant added.
“Yeah.”
“What about the remote that guy had. Was the clock started?”
“Sure was. But those guys didn’t plan on staying around. They gave themselves more than enough time to haul.”
“And you and Diaz,” Grant added with a smile.
“Yeah. Us, too. Hey! Where the hell are they?” Adler asked looking around.
“Forward.”
Unaware the men were aboard, Kwan asked with surprise, “Who?! Who are you talking about?!”
“We’ve got three men tied up outside the cabin; captured them at the place we found the explosives. I’ll explain later.”
Kwan stood closer to the wheel, straining to find the men, but unable to see below the window.
Adler picked up where the conversation left off. “So, did you get anything out of them?”
“Haven’t had the time.”
“Don’t understand that!” Adler laughed.
Slowly the rain began letting up. Water dripped off the cabin’s roof. As the boat swayed slightly from port to starboard, water rolled off the deck.
Kwan reduced engine speed, as he spun the wheel to starboard, steering the boat into the Yangtze. Somehow, by keeping a steady speed to this point, he’d been able to catch up to some stragglers.
Feeling the boat lean, Grant looked up at him. “Still clear?”
“So far.”
“How much father until they start throwing out nets?”
“We have a way to go, but after Hengshaxiang Island.”
“Do we follow the fleet?” Grant asked.
“If you want the shortest way to international waters, I’d say follow the channel south of the island.”
“And if they don’t go that route? Will we draw attention to ourselves?”
“It’s hard to say, but there’s always a chance. Gunboats patrol up and down the river.”
Another detail Grant worried about. They’d never be able to outrun the ChiComs with the size of engine this boat had.
Becket overheard the conversation and scooted closer to Grant. “Excuse me, sir.”
“Sure,” Grant said, “but how about some introductions first.” He leaned forward, extending a hand. “I’m Grant Stevens, this is Joe Adler, and those guys,” he pointed, as he smiled, “are Team Alpha Tango. And that’s Dao Kwan driving.”