Through my binoculars I could see a boat of at least four hundred feet in length. It was black from the waterline, its steel hull looming with uncommon grace. Above the hull were five floors of living space (and likely, entertainment) space. The floors were a blinding white, which gave the entire ship the appearance of a tuxedo in the water.
“You need to get that Cobra as close to that ship as possible; push it right into its line,” I said to Virgil.
“That wasn’t part of the deal Sam put out,” Virgil said. “I thought we were just intercepting.”
“We are,” I said. “And pushing.”
“I’d like to avoid jail time for causing a death on the sea,” Virgil said.
“Not going to happen,” I said. “All we want is for the men in that Cobra to stop the Ottones’ ship and board it. You get that Cobra into a position to make that happen.”
Virgil smiled. “You’re a devious man, Mike.”
I checked my watch. The time was now. We had calls and e-mails to send. I called Gennaro. I had five minutes before he’d launch. “I can see your wife’s boat,” I said.
“Is she safe?”
“She will be.”
“What do I do?”
“Race,” I said. “Just race. Win or lose. It’s on you alone now.”
“And my wife is safe?”
“Yes,” I said. Now I just had to make sure it happened. Gennaro put Sam on the phone. “Tell Darleen these coordinates,” I said and rattled off our location. A woman like Darleen was already waiting somewhere out in the water, so it would only be a matter of moments, I was certain, for this to all happen.
“Got it, Mikey,” he said. “Be safe.”
“What fun is that?” I said. “See you after you get back from Nassau.”
I called Barry and told him to begin the flood. In minutes, a crime family with terrorist connections, that Nicholas Dinino was transferring large sums of cash to, which was probably placing large sums of money in illegal betting on the Pax Bellicosa losing, would be under investigation by every bank in the world.
“Send the pictures,” I said to Fiona, which she did from her cell phone. In a few seconds, Nicholas Dinino wouldn’t just be in trouble with the mob and terrorists, he’d be in the process of getting cut out of the Ottone empire, probably before he ever saw land again.
We’d caught Nicholas Dinino. Now it was about finishing the race.
The difference between chasing someone and intercepting someone is all about angles. When you chase someone, you’re naturally in a passive position. You can only act when they act. You have no control over the flow of the chase.
But when you’re intercepting someone, you dictate the angle of pursuit. Which is why instead of trying to catch Alex Kyle’s Cobra from behind, we were actively pushing it toward Ottones’ ship, cutting across the water at a 45-degree angle, so that we would T-bone the Cobra. The goal was to ensure not that they were forced to engage us, but that they were forced to make the Ottones’ ship stop, that they would board the ship to protect Maria and Liz, likely find Nicholas Dinino, and, if all happened in good timing, do so in front of the FBI.
But first it had to happen.
We sliced through the water, the front of the boat bouncing into the air as we crossed over whitecaps, the Cobra coming clearer into view, the Ottones’ ship looming larger in the distance.
And then my cell phone rang.
It wasn’t a number I recognized.
“You’re getting very close to the edge,” a woman’s voice said when I answered.
“Not much farther,” I said.
“You have three minutes.” This time it was a man.
I tossed the phone into the water.
“Your mother?” Fi said.
“No,” I said.
She dug into a cabinet at her feet and pulled out a life vest. “Put your floaties on,” she said.
“I’m fine,” I said.
The Cobra was now only about fifty yards from us, close enough that I could make out the faces of the men on board. It was easier when Alex Kyle turned and smiled at me. The Cobra banked left, then right, trying to shake us but Virgil’s little engine could and we kept up, drawing closer to their flank.
The Ottones’ ship let out a bellow. We were both getting perilously close to it at this point.
Virgil looked back at me, worry on his face. “Go,” I said. “We have to make this happen or everyone dies.”
It was a fact I hadn’t quite considered, but that was seeming more and more true, now that I could make out a helipad on the bow of the Ottones’ yacht, a forest green chopper sitting at rest.
I was certain it was Nicholas Dinino.
If I didn’t get Alex Kyle and his men on that ship, there was no stopping Bonaventura from exacting vengeance, sometime, somewhere, for all of this. And if those men didn’t get on the ship, there was a good chance Dinino would kill Maria and Liz. Bonaventura most likely told Kyle to watch the boat, make sure I didn’t board it. Make sure I didn’t kill anyone.
Alex Kyle knew the truth. He knew what I was capable of and what I was unlikely to do, but he was following orders. We had to make it look like we were heading for that boat to do what we had to do.
Overhead, I heard the whooping of helicopters. The sky was alive with them now, television coverage beaming images around the world, but there’s a different sound between the nice choppers TV stations use and military transports.
Alex Kyle looked up, too, and pointed. And then turned and pointed at me, like a warning.
And maybe it was.
Fi’s cell phone rang.
“Don’t answer it,” I said.
Virgil’s cell phone rang and he just tossed it overboard. “I got the message,” he said.
The Ottones’ ship bellowed again. We had twenty yards between us and the Cobra, another three hundred before we were in the path of the cruise liner.
“Turn,” I said very calmly to Virgil, “put us right in the path of the ship.”
“We’ll have maybe fifteen seconds and that’s it,” he said. “This girl doesn’t do tricks.”
“That’s all we need,” I said.
Virgil spun our boat towards the Ottones’ ship.
My assumption was that the ship’s captain would make the only correction he could-back towards the Cobra, which it did. The Cobra was a gymnast; it would be able to draw back and around the big ship without a problem.
Well, some problems.
“Get us out,” I yelled to Virgil and he cranked us back towards Miami, the boat lurching, the engine spitting out more blue smoke into the air.
We could hear the engine on the Ottones’ ship sputtering. If the captain were smart-and if the Ottones’ employed him and he wasn’t in the tank to kill Maria and Liz, he was-he’d throw the engine into reverse and kill it, stopping the forward momentum as much as possible. Which is what it sounded like was happening as the engines of the big yacht ground audibly, the captain trying to get it to decelerate any way he could.
The Cobra was fast enough to get out of the way and then circled back around the lumbering ship. I watched the Cobra pacing the cruise liner, which had slowed considerably. Through the binoculars I could see Alex on the radio and his men standing upright with shoulder-fired spearguns aimed above the hull of the ship. They were dressed to rappel, which meant they were planning to board shortly.
“It’s too bad,” Fiona said.
“What is?” I said.
“That Alex Kyle fellow,” she said. “He seemed like the kind of person we might like in a different situation.”
“Maybe he’ll come back and try to sell some plutonium,” I said. I was still watching when he gave the signal and his men fired their spears into the deck of the boat. They weren’t shooting to harm, but to set up rappelling lines. Within seconds, Kyle’s teams was scaling the side of the hull.
“Nice form,” Virgil said.
“We never get to do fun things like that,” Fi said.
“I have a feeling this will be the last time these men get the chance,” I said. Just then a military helicopter swept down in front of the ship and hovered above the stern. Another came to the bow. There were three in the air now and I could make out a Coast Guard cutter screaming in from the east, another from the south. “I think they’ve just acted as pirates in the service of a Mafia boss.”