“Then you wouldn’t object if we search the vessel, would you?”
A bolt of anxiety crawled up Verena’s spine. “I mean ... don’t you need a warrant for that?”
Molina smirked, crumpled the manifest, and tossed it overboard.
“Not in this case,” he said. “You’re missing proper ownership documentation.”
The man’s action gave her pause. Was this a bribe shakedown? She’d expect that in Mexico, but not in Spain. Still, it was an option worth exploring. If all this could be solved with cash, she was willing to play the game.
“I’m sure we can come to a reasonable arrangement, Capitán Molina,” she said, letting a faint smile touch her lips. “I’m sure these nighttime boardings can be stressful—”
The smirk on Molina’s mouth vanished. “Are you suggesting a bribe?”
Verena was caught off guard. She’d clearly misjudged the situation.
“I ... I certainly wouldn’t call it that,” she replied. “But I understand operations like this aren’t cheap—”
“Search it!” Molina snapped, gesturing for the two officers patrolling the deck to get inside the yacht.
Verena scratched her ear, taking the opportunity to subtly tap her earbud once. Bernard would hear what came next and would get ready.
“You want to search it, then search it,” she said, then added, “but do you really need four officers to do it?”
Molina studied her for a few seconds, then he smiled, though it was devoid of any warmth.
“Thank you for giving us your consent, Miss Kaine.”
“Of course. We’ve got nothing to hide.”
Verena could see that Burton was getting anxious beside her, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“While my team sweeps the boat, I’d like to see the ship’s log.”
“The logbook is in my quarters,” Burton said. “You can follow me.”
Before anyone could move, the patrol boat’s spotlight was suddenly powered off. Verena didn’t move right away, her instincts telling her something had just happened. Her pulse spiked, and her pupils contracted, then widened again as her eyes tried to recalibrate.
And then she saw it, movement on the patrol boat. A small silhouette, more like a shadow, really, had appeared on the Rodman-55’s deck. Verena blinked. Were her eyes playing tricks on her? No, it was real. The silhouette darted across the deck, moving impossibly fast. The figure was dressed entirely in black, easily blending into the night.
Verena heard two muffled pops.
And then everything turned into chaos.
Chapter Twenty-Two
One Mile South of Cabrera Island
Mallorca, Spain
Mia quietly climbed out of the storage compartment beneath the berth, then stretched to work the stiffness from her limbs. Her back and shoulders ached the most, and her legs tingled with the familiar pins and needles as her blood started circulating again. She took twenty seconds to regain full control of her body, focusing on her breathing to suppress the disorientation she suffered from lying cramped in the dark for so long.
Once she had regained full control of her extremities, she opened the sleeping quarter’s door, and leading with her suppressed pistol, she climbed the two short steps to the cockpit area. She expected to find one of the patrol boat’s crew members, but the space was empty. The dim interior offered a clear line of sight forward, though her vision toward the stern was limited due to the Rodman-55’s design. Still, she had enough visibility to see that the boat’s spotlight was locked onto theVeloce, its light flooding the Azimut’s main deck and stern.
Since the patrol boat sat lower in the water than theVeloce, Mia had a slight tactical disadvantage, and she could only see the Guardia Civil officers who were on theVelocefrom the waist up. To compensate, she would need to use extreme violence and move fast to maximize her biggest advantage: surprise.
She debated whether to leave the spotlight on. It would blind anyone trying to look toward the Rodman-55, which would make it easier for her to engage targets on theVeloce. But it would also silhouette her the moment she stepped onto the Azimut yacht.
Better to kill the light and use the cover of darkness.
