Vincent watched the city flash past as he listened to the banter. He hadn’t been to Rio for many years and was surprised by the contrast between then and now. All those years ago it was much poorer, but now he saw evidence of new money wherever he looked. A city on the rise, he thought with appreciation.
Carvalho slowed to handle some traffic in Gamboa and ahead of them he saw Guanabara Bay to the north, reflecting the last of the day’s sunshine as twilight enveloped the cityscape. He was jolted from his trance by the sound of screeching brakes and a cacophony of car horns as a jumble of cars nearly collided with one another at a junction. Carvalho gave as good as he got and moved on.
As they turned into Saúde, Carvalho nodded to himself and then raised his forefinger off the wheel, pointing ar the docks. “That’s Kruger’s boat right there — a Navetta called the Theia. Theia was a Greek goddess,” he said. “But that is all they told me.”
They slowed down and parked up well away from the Theia. The Brazilian radioed their position to his other men as they watched Kruger’s men unloading the loot from his SUV.
They all knew the deal, and that was to ensure the South African and his men on the boat, as well as Corzo, were either taken into custody or taken out altogether. The BOPE force was now in place at the docks so between them all, Reaper was confident the situation could be contained as he saw Dirk Kruger strutting about on the deck.
The South African was holding a cell phone to his face and talking animatedly. Corzo and a few of Kruger’s sailors heaved the last of the treasure into the hold and then began smoking at the back of the boat. The Colombian rebel leaned over the stern rail as he watched the water splashing against the hull.
The Frenchman was more hopeful than usual. It was an isolated part of the city well away from the general public and they had many more men than they would need to take on Kruger and his team, not to mention the element of surprise and the home advantage. He hummed a made-up tune as he loaded a mag into the submachine gun and readied the weapon.
“When do we go?” he asked Carvalho.
“When my superiors give the order and not a moment before,” came the businesslike reply.
Reaper gave a modest nod. He could live with that, but then with no warning, the Theia jolted forward and began moving away from the docks at full speed. Reaper stared up and saw Kruger in the bridge driving the Navetta out into the bay as its enormous engines were now spewing a tumultuous wake up behind it.
“He’s taking it out to sea!” Lexi said.
“This is our last chance to nab the bastard,” said Scarlet.
“We have a police boat,” Carvalho said. “Don’t worry… we’ll take it from here, obrigado.”
“Eh?” Scarlet said. “This is our mission!”
Without warning Ryan snatched Scarlet’s weapon and bolted from the Blazer. “I want him dead.”
“Ryan!” Scarlet yelled.
Reaper leaped from the Blazer and sprinted after Ryan, but he was already in the police boat and firing her up. He pulled away from the dockside just as Reaper jumped into the boat.
“You could have waited…” he said.
“I can’t let him get away,” Ryan said coldly. “He has to die, Vincent.”
Reaper made no comment, but instead readied his weapon and joined Ryan at the front of the boat. He turned to see the wild flashing of lights as more police pulled up at the docks. “Scarlet and Lexi will not be too happy with you cutting them out of the action.”
“You heard Carvalho!” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “He told us he would take it from here. Like hell!”
“Let me get to the helm,” the former legionnaire said. “You drive like a girl.”
Reaper moved to the wheel and took over control of the small boat, pushing the throttles down as far as they would go and spinning the wheel to correct the course. With peninsulas on the right and the left, Kruger was leaving the last of Rio behind and setting a course across the South Atlantic for Cape Town.
“We don’t have much time to catch him!” Ryan said.
Reaper knew boats and he was right. The Theia might have been seaworthy but this little police boat was not. If Kruger got out of the bay and into the ocean he had the fuel, power and resources to cross the entire ocean and get back to South Africa, but they would be going no further than a few miles and then their boat would be little better than driftwood.
“But we have one advantage, mon ami,” he said with a grin. ‘We have more speed!”
Then the Theia turned hard to starboard to move south around Sugarloaf Mountain before it suddenly lurched violently back to port without warning.
“What the hell are they doing?” Ryan asked.
Then they saw.
Kruger had swerved to avoid a gargantuan container ship which was attempting to enter the bay from the south but the South African was going too fast and crashed into the starboard side of the enormous ship. The captain of the container ship sounded the general alarm to alert the crew to the emergency, but Kruger pushed the Theia through the collision and slipped out the back. They watched the Navetta bobbing around in the container ship’s massive wake but Kruger’s only response was to order more men to the back and open fire on the police boat.
“Bastard’s still going,” Reaper said, steering the smaller police boat out to port and giving the container ship the wide berth it deserved.
“But we can’t let him get away!” Ryan yelled. “He has the Lost Treasure!”
“But that’s not why you want him dead…” Reaper said, giving him a glance.
They drew closer and suddenly other police boats began to swarm around the Navetta.
Reaper fired the first shot, and his bullet was on target. It ploughed into one of Kruger’s sailors and spun him around, making him cry out in pain and reach up to the wound.
“Come on, Vincent!” Ryan muttered.
“One more shot…” he said, squinting into his gun sights.
He squeezed the trigger and this time his aim was better. The round tore through the sailor’s throat and killed him instantly. He dropped to his knees with a frozen look of stunned terror on his face and then fell forwards over the boarding ramp and disappeared into the black water of Guanabara Bay.
Moments later Reaper was piloting the small police boat up to the stern of the Navetta and he and Ryan were boarding under a hail of fire. A large net was on the deck at the stern, stretched out ready for deployment, but Reaper had his doubts that it was used for fishing.
Before he had a chance to think about it, a man burst out of the cabin at the rear and charged toward them.
Reaper punched the thug in the face with a powerful shovel hook. The man flailed backwards grasping for his weapon but went over the portside rail before he could get hold of it. He plummeted twenty feet into the water and landed on his back in a bloody splash. As a younger man Reaper lived for this sort of adventure, and spent many hours a week working out in the gym to ensure he never came off worse in skirmishes like this, but now he felt his age weighing down on him more and more with each passing year.
Another man stumbled out of the cabin in search of the other sailor and instead found himself directly in between Reaper and Ryan.
Reaper turned to Ryan and the two men exchanged a signal which they both understood at once. Working together they punched the sailor on both sides of his face at the same time which resulted in a terrible crunching sound as he couldn’t yield to the strike. He slumped to the floor, face first and was out like a light for the duration. Reaper and Ryan shared a high-five before Carlos Corzo appeared with a hunting knife in his hand and charged toward the Frenchman.