They cleared the end of the landing. Lamont put the helm over and opened the throttles. The cigarette lifted up and shot down the river toward the sea. The villa disappeared behind them.
They were moving too fast. Lamont throttled back.
"How's the boat?" Nick asked.
"I think we're cool. He blew the hell out of the seats but missed the engines. I don't think we're taking water. Lucky."
"Foxworth will have everyone after us. Head south down the coast. I'll get hold of Harker and call for extraction."
They reached the open water. Lamont increased power and turned south. The cigarette was a black arrow skimming over the waves. A wide, foaming wake trailed behind, phosphorescent in the Tuscan night.
Nick turned to Korov. "You were hit?"
"Yes. But your vests are good. I have soreness, no more."
Nick nodded. Korov was right, they were good, the latest model. 30 layers of Kevlar, the best gear America made. It would stop a .308. Heavy, but effective. The thought reminded Nick of Selena.
What if she can't ever walk again? It was your fault. Your fault. How could you forget?
There had been plenty of missions in the old days without vests or with vests that were a joke, that would barely stop a .22. But the new ones would have stopped the round that hit her. The ones he'd forgotten to pack.
He knew he'd never forgive himself if she was paralyzed.
I fucked up. His mood turned dark.
"Nick." Ronnie's voice brought him back. "Hadn't you better call Harker?"
"Yeah." Nick took out the satellite phone, punched in the code. Two rings.
"Yes, Nick."
"We have a problem." He briefed her.
"All right. I've got you on screen."
In Virginia, Elizabeth watched the marker from Nick's GPS moving south along the coast.
"You're passing Livorno," she said. "You should see it on your left."
"I see it."
The lights of Livorno were already falling behind as they sped over the water.
"The next town along the coast is called Rosignano. It's about 20 kilometers from where you are. There's a big castle there, built on a hill overlooking the coast. You'll see it coming. Get ashore there and I'll have someone meet you. Stay out of sight until I can set up extraction."
"Roger that." He paused. "How's Selena?"
"She's out of danger. Call me when you make shore." Elizabeth broke the connection. She wasn't about to tell Nick it looked like Selena might be paralyzed for the rest of her life.
Nick put the phone away. He told them what Harker had said.
"Be light soon," Ronnie said.
"We'll be ashore by then."
Nick settled back in one of the comfortable seats. The adrenaline rush was gone. His back was on fire and clamping up. He felt every old wound, every one of his years. Not for the first time, he thought about quitting. But what would he do if he quit? Like every other time he'd thought about it, he had no answer.
He gave in to the tiredness and was dozing when the big Mercury engines burst into full throated roar and the craft leapt forward. They began smacking the low wave tops in a constant up and down motion that turned his stomach over.
Lamont said, "We've got company." He handed Nick the night vision binoculars and pointed out to sea. An Italian patrol boat was headed toward them. Water curled high around the bow. They were coming at flank speed.
"Can't you go any faster? Nick asked.
Lamont answered in an indignant Scottish accent. "I'm givin' her all she's got, Captain. Any more, and she'll blow."
Nick smiled in spite of himself. The boat flew across the surface. He lifted his binoculars. The smile disappeared. He handed the lenses to Korov.
"They are still far away," Korov said. He gave the binoculars back.
Nick trained the lenses on the boat. "It looks like a Dicotti class," he said. "It'll have a 76mm gun, remote controlled. They've got us on their radar, for sure. They get a little closer, they can hit us."
"They'll want to talk before they start shooting," Lamont said. "Board us."
Nick scanned the shore. The shadowy bulk of the castle marking the medieval town of Rosignano loomed on a high hill ahead. A distant boom came from the darkness out at sea. A white fountain of water erupted several hundred yards away from them.
"Guess they don't want to talk," Lamont said.
"They're still out of range, but not for long. Head for shore. Look for somewhere we can ditch this."
"It's all beach. We can run right up to it." He turned the boat toward shore.
The beach was visible in the predawn, a smooth white band against the dark of the mainland. Another muffled boom sounded from the Italian patrol boat. This time the shell landed 200 yards behind them.
"Take us close. Ditch the weapons and the rest of the gear except the pistols." They threw everything over the side. Nick kept his GPS. They were still a hundred yards off shore.
"They can't make us out in this light," Nick said, "but they've got us on their radar." There was another report from the cannon. The shell landed twenty yards away. Water sprayed over the boat.
"We're out of time. Lamont, turn parallel to the shore. We'll go over the side and swim in. Set the throttle and get your ass in after us."
"Roger that."
Lamont slowed a little, put the helm over and tied off the wheel. The others went over the side. Lamont balanced himself on the edge of the cockpit and pulled the throttles wide open and dove off. The big Mercury engines and 2700 horses kicked in. The needle bow lifted high in the air. The empty boat screamed away.
The sound of the cannon echoed in the distance. They heard the shell whistle through the air. The boat vanished in a blossom of orange flame. Debris and water cascaded down on them. They swam hard for shore. They reached the beach and ran across the pristine sands and into a forest of pines.
Nick felt cold water draining down into his pants. He pulled out the envelope he'd taken from the villa. The paper inside was a soggy mass, useless, the blue writing nothing more than a blur. He wadded it up and threw it down in disgust on the sand, then took out his phone and called Harker.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
The morning after the raid, Foxworth summoned Mandy, Morel and Healy to the library. Morel had never seen Foxworth in a rage like this. He paced back and forth across the room, shouting. Spittle flew from his mouth. They stood shocked and silent, unmoving while he ranted.
It's a tumor, I know it is, Morel thought. It's getting worse. He's losing control.
The security chief was stone-faced. In the SAS he'd seen enraged officers dress down subordinates. He'd seen men go berserk in the stress of battle. He thought he'd seen it all. But he'd never seen anything like this.
He's gone bonkers. Stark, raving looney. The room was suddenly quiet. Foxworth walked over and stood in front of Healy. His eyes narrowed. His face was chalk white.
"You screwed up again." After the shouting, his voice was hoarse, quiet. The calmness was strange after the rage. "Do you have anything to say?"
"Sir, we kept them away from you. It's what you hired me for."
"No, Healy, it isn't."
Foxworth's eyes glittered. The pupils were huge.
Those drugs Morel gives you, Healy thought. They're not working, mate.