Webb was already speeding through the murky, rolling waters, passing by a huge white river boat called the Delta Queen. As one, about ten of Amari’s boats took off in hot pursuit, engines screaming and water parting around them. The mercs held their guns high or over their shoulders, unmasked and uncaring as the bright, hot sun blazed down.
Drake opened the throttle and held on tight, Alicia gripping the windshield as she fixed eyes on their quarry. Three other boats suddenly surrounded him, blasting along at his side, trying to close the gap. Spray and walls of water gave him the best shower he’d had in days.
Alicia’s face dripped. “I hate this bloody boat. It’s pink, Drake. Fucking pink!”
The Yorkshireman kept a stoic face. “Didn’t notice.”
“ ’Course you did.” Alicia blew water away by flapping her lips. “Probably picked it on purpose.”
“Why the hell would I do that?” Drake maneuvered into the center of the waterway, powering hard just ten meters away from the trailing Amari boat.
“I dunno. Does it remind you of Sprite?”
Drake spluttered. “For fu—”
“As usual,” Hayden’s voice interrupted them, “comms are wide open. Thought you would have learned by now.”
Alicia shrugged, shedding a waterfall. “Don’t care.”
“Maybe you should.” Drake bent lower, steadied the wheel with one hand and prepped his gun with the other. It was a Heckler & Koch UMP, the lighter, cheaper successor to the MP5. Embraced by various agencies including Border Patrol, it was the easiest weapon for the traveling SPEAR team to lay their hands on at short notice. Still, it provided more stopping power, larger cartridges and was easier to carry. Disadvantages were less accuracy at range and a slower firing rate, but Drake had thought these less important.
Until he jumped on a speedboat, powered down the wide Mississippi, chasing over a dozen other boats loaded with mercs and lunatics, surrounded by his colleagues in a similar position.
Can’t plan for everything.
Webb could be seen ahead, laying on the power; Beau watching the chasing teams. Drake teased every ounce of power out of his pink speedboat, glancing across at Dahl who stood at the helm of a lime green craft.
The corners of the Swede’s mouth turned up just a little. “If you’re nice to them maybe they’ll let you borrow the boat at weekends,” he purred over the comms.
“Oh, you’re so bloody funny I’m gonna crash.” Drake looked past the Swede to the other vessels. Hayden and Mai rode a mostly yellow one and appeared cramped with Crowe and two bodyguards installed. Kinimaka, Smyth, Lauren and Yorgi were packed into an orange boat, the Russian piloting whilst the soldiers made ready with H&Ks. Drake’s eyes came to rest on the vision of Kenzie, standing upright in the sleek, bouncing boat, arms crossed, the pommel of her sword jutting up over her shoulders.
“Crap, that can’t be good,” Alicia’s voice jerked him back to reality.
Two of Amari’s boats had peeled off and were now arcing back around toward the pursuers. Alicia steadied her rifle and Drake made more of a gap between his boat and Dahl’s. The last thing they needed was an evasive maneuver resulting in a crash. The first of Amari’s boats headed straight for Drake, mercs already firing. The bullets shot wide or skipped into the Mississippi. Alicia lined up her sights.
Both boats sped toward each other at a combined speed of over 80 mph. Smashing against a heavy swell, both boats took flight, their pilots struggling at the wheels, and came bouncing back up for more.
“Drake…” Alicia began.
“They ain’t stopping, pal.” Dahl’s voice.
Drake held steady, breathing deeply through his mouth. “Fuck ’em,” he said.
The enemy boat was now a gray wedge blocking out the horizon. It was only when Drake saw the fear in the eyes of the mercs most forward and the determined set of the pilot’s visage that he realized what was really happening.
“Kamikaze,” he cried to warn the others, then wrenched hard at the wheel. Alicia lurched to the side, smashing her shoulder and her head. The stern veered around, skimming off a waterfall, the prow shuddered and struggled to make headway. Drake goosed the throttle. The enemy boat loomed. In another vital moment, Dahl managed to sight his weapon whilst steering, aim, and take out the pilot. The boat skated off course.
And then exploded.
Drake was already low; Alicia knocked to the footwell. Terrible fragments struck their boat and arrowed overhead or flew straight up into the air. Drake had guessed the pilot was wearing a vest, but the action was still shocking.
Dead man’s trigger.
The merc boat lay dead in the water, wreckage still crashing down. Drake jumped up and without ceremony opened the throttle. Again, their battered boat raced down the center of the Mississippi.
Amari’s second boat aimed for their third in line, coincidentally the yellow one carrying Hayden, Mai and the Secretary of Defense. It was hard for Drake to envision a United States’ official of such stature putting herself so deeply in harm’s way but then, when she made the light decision to travel to New Orleans and meet the SPEAR team mid-mission, could she really have foreseen what would happen? Even the chase through the French Quarter didn’t set a person up for a powerboat battle along the third biggest watershed in the world.
This time the enemy pilot lived as Mai sent their boat curving wide one way and then back around. Drake could see mercs screaming at the man who held the wheel, then tearing his jacket apart and flinching, shocked to see the dynamite strapped to his chest. Some headed overboard at that point but the pilot blew himself up anyway, sending the shattered boat into the air and then reeling back down.
“Amari has his fanatics with him,” Drake said soberly. “That’s our warning.”
Kinimaka’s boat was closing in on Amari’s last in line, close enough to exchange fire. The Hawaiian’s boat skipped skew-whiff on an errant wave but he managed to manhandle it back into place. Smyth fired carefully, each bullet a pop at timed intervals. Mercs fell, gouting blood. Return fire sent Lauren and Yorgi to the floor, the thief losing his grip on his new Glock. Kinimaka plowed on and Smyth managed to take out the pilot. Mercs fell all around and some plunged overboard as the craft lost momentum.
Kinimaka powered past. They couldn’t afford to lose a single second. Webb raced ahead with no obstructions, though Amari in the lead boat might be slowly catching him. The Arabs did this every day back home, it seemed, giving them a slight advantage, though never on a river as mighty as this.
“Still no sign of Webb’s resources,” Drake muttered.
“No, but ours are on their way,” Hayden shouted back over engine and water roar.
Drake looked up and back, saw choppers pounding at the skies and a veritable flotilla of new vessels shooting along behind.
“If Webb thought this was an escape route, it seems the asshole was a little mistaken.”
“But Webb’s nowhere to be seen.” Lauren was using field glasses. “Beau is driving the boat.”
Drake squinted. Indeed, only one man could be seen aboard the lead boat. Hayden voiced her opinion. “He’s so desperate he’s already making the potion,” she said. “That’s my bet, guys. Whatever he believes it will infuse within him, I don’t know, but that’s what he’s doing.”
“Immortality?” Lauren offered. “Invisibility?”
“Ooh, I’d love me some of that.” Alicia rubbed the side of her head. “Bloody Sprite wouldn’t know what hit her. And Samurai Sheila.” She stared at Kenzie, then affected a fake expression of shock. “Oh, shit. Did I say that out loud? Over the comms?”