Theo said, “Can’t even see the forward deck guns.”

“They may have blown clear. Looks like she got hit right on top of the two big guns.” The forward bow section was bent off to starboard exposing a gaping hole into the sub’s interior. As more of the bottom contour flowed into view, they saw how the forward section seemed to hang, floating, as the bottom disappeared off the screen. The wreck rested on a sea floor that angled downwards at a forty-five degree angle — in essence, the Surcouf was sitting on the downward slope of an undersea cliff.

Cole jumped when Riley’s loud voice erupted out of the radio. “Shadow Chaser, Shadow Chaser, this is the Bonefish.”

He grabbed the microphone, and catching Theo’s eyes he pressed the button with a big grin on his face. “Riley, this is Shadow Chaser here. Thank God. You’ll never guess what we’re looking at on the sonar screen. Now get your little sailboat over here to celebrate with us!”

Cole stopped speaking but Riley didn’t answer him. He looked up at the SSB radio as if it could tell him why.

He lifted the mike. “Bonefish, this is Shadow Chaser. Did you copy that? Over.”

Again, there was only silence.

“What the hell is going on?” Cole said. “Why can’t she hear us?” He turned back to look at Theo, his raised eyebrows accenting his question. “Do you think it’s the radio?”

Theo shook his head. “Don’t know, Cap’n.”

Cole raised the mike to his mouth again, but before he had a chance to push the transmit button, he heard a voice — and it was not Riley’s.

“Shadow Chaser, this is the sailing vessel Bonefish. I’m very sorry to say so, but it appears the captain refuses to speak to you at the moment.”

Cole’s knuckles whitened as he squeezed the microphone. He reminded himself to calm down. He didn’t want to break the damn thing. “Who is this?” he said. “Where’s Riley?”

“I think you know very well who I am, Dr. Thatcher. And our Captain Riley is right here with me. Very close to me. You do know how close we are, don’t you, Dr. Thatcher?”

“Riley,” Cole said, hoping Priest was telling the truth and that she was there within earshot of his voice. “Talk to me. What can I do to help?”

“Ah, how very good of you – since Riley here won’t cooperate. You see, Dr. Thatcher, I asked her to call you and get your location.” He chuckled and the air waves went dead for a several seconds. Cole was about to respond when Priest came back on. “We want ever so much to come pay you a visit, but Riley here says she doesn’t know where you are. And she refuses to get back on the radio to ask you. Do you see how that could be a dangerous position for her to take?”

“Priest. Don’t hurt her, you hear me?”

Cole released the button on his mike, and he heard the sound of Priest’s laughter from the radio.

“Or you’ll do what? Kill me?”

Cole slammed the palm of his hand down on the boat’s dash. “Listen, Priest, I’ll soon have something you want. You can have it in exchange for her. You don’t deliver her to me unharmed, and I’ll destroy it all. The submarine is resting on a ledge. One blast and the wreck, the documents, and all the gold go down into the trench.”

“Now, now, Dr. Thatcher. There’s no need for that. I think we can come to an amicable agreement. Why don’t you tell us where you are so we can get started sailing. We’re in Grand Bourg on Marie Gallant. I assume it will take us a while to get to you.”

In the background, Cole heard Riley’s voice shout, “Cole, don’t!”

“Priest, we’re three miles east-southeast of Petite Terre. I assume you’ll recognize my boat once you get close. We’ll be ready to trade whatever we find down there by the time you get here.”

“Roger, Shadow Chaser. We’ll see you soon. We’re over and out.” The radio went silent.

Cole glanced at Theo, and then turned his face toward the monitor that showed the blue outline of the wreck. Staring at the familiar shape, he whispered, “Shit.”

Then, he clapped his hands together, turned back to Theo and said, “What time is it?”

“Just past eight.”

“Okay, given the speed of her sailboat, I reckon we’ve got four to five hours to figure out what the hell we’re going to do.”

CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR

From Bonefish to Fast Eddie

March 31, 2008

7:50 a.m.

Riley followed orders. She climbed over Spyder’s corpse and out into the cockpit. She stepped around Pinky’s still form, and then swung her injured leg over the lifelines. She stepped from her own boat onto the foredeck of the racing powerboat Fast Eddie. Dig followed.

“Get behind the wheel and start the engines. I’ll untie the lines.”

She needed to stall him any way she could. If Theo and Cole were convinced that Dig was coming on the slower Bonefish, they would think they had time. They didn’t. This ocean racer could cover the miles in less than an hour.

“No, wait. I’ll deal with the lines once I start the engine. Besides, the Bertram you came on hasn’t got an anchor down.”

“Don’t argue with me. Set it adrift. We need to get moving.”

“But it will be bound to attract attention.”

Dig glanced around the waterfront. “I suspect the authorities are already on their way.  Given it’s the islands, the gendarmes may have had to finish their croissants first, but we need to go. Now.”

Riley shrugged, but didn’t move.

She was half turned away from him when he hit the side of her jaw so hard, he knocked her off balance and she fell to the deck. Dazed, she raised herself to a sitting position and put her hand to her cheek. He must have used the butt of the gun. She made no effort to stand. Probing around inside her mouth with her index finger, she didn’t find any loose teeth, but her hand came away bloodied.

“Don’t fuck with me, Riley. You’ve seen what I can do.”

That she had. She had no idea how hard she could push him. But she was also certain that as soon as he got what he wanted, he wouldn’t leave anyone alive to tell about it.

Riley got up and slid into the driver’s seat. She gripped the compact steering wheel and looked at the array of instruments on the dashboard. She had never driven a high performance powerboat before. She was sorting out the fuel, oil pressure and temperature gauges, when Dig kicked at the back of her seat.

“Let’s go,” he said.

 She flipped the switch that started the bilge blowers. She hated boats with gasoline engines. Unlike diesel, the fumes from gas could turn a boat into a bomb, so you always had to make sure that no fumes had settled into the bilge. She turned the ignition keys. Both engines growled to life. She climbed out of the padded seat and saw Dig perched on the edge of the stern bench seat. He was staring down at his arm in the sling. His face looked pale and the tendons in his neck were taut.

“The engines need to warm up,” she said.

He lifted the gun aiming it at her midsection.

“For real,” she said, raising her hands in the air. “You don’t want engine trouble when we’re heading through the cut in the reef. Anyway, it looks like you’re hurt. I’ll take care of the lines.”

He didn’t answer her. She could see he was gritting his teeth.

The bow line on the Fish n’ Chicks was long enough to reach across the deck of the racing machine, and she tied it to a forward cleat on her sailboat. She couldn’t stand the idea of letting any boat get carried onto the rocks — even a powerboat.

As she untied the last line, she saw Pinky’s eyes flutter.  The black racer began to drift away from the sailboat. She looked up as Dig slid into the padded passenger seat and twisted his body sideways. He hadn’t noticed Pinky. He swung the gun from her to the driver’s seat, pointing. She sat down, put the engines in gear, and headed for the harbor entrance.