After a long beat, he said. “Okay. You’re right.”
I knew Shane wouldn’t roll over that easily. “Now turn yourself in, confess, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure you get a good deal.”
He thought for a moment. “You’re a true friend, Tyson. I’ll see you in the next life, brother.”
He ended the call, and I grumbled, “We’ve got to stop him.”
A look of dread filled Riley’s face.
“Stay here,” I said to her.
JD and I gathered our things, grabbed an umbrella, and hurried down the dock to the Porsche. We climbed inside, and Jack fired up the engine.
We drove across the island to the Platinum Dunes Estates. Vladimir lived in a sprawling mansion on Meridian Court. Jack pulled to the curb and parked a few houses down. “You think he’s really going to try to kill Vladimir tonight?”
“Now is probably the best opportunity.”
I didn't know how many henchmen Vladimir had working for him. There were the two on the helicopter with him, the pilot, and the four who had taken me out to Crystal Key. There could be seven or eight security personnel at his mansion right now. Maybe more. All armed to the teeth. You'd have to be a fool to attempt something like that. Then again, Shane hadn't been acting rationally lately, if ever. But it was almost 5:00 AM. The sun would be coming up soon. Vladimir and his goons were likely sleeping. Those on guard would be a little foggy after the events of the evening.
Like many of the McMansions in the neighborhood, Vladimir's estate had a well-manicured lawn, a circular driveway, and a gated courtyard with a high concrete fence. Security cameras at the front of the house kept an eye on things, and I was sure they were strategically placed throughout the property.
The storm continued to rage, the rain coming down in sheets. It was almost impossible to see through the windshield between swipes of the wiper blades. Jack kept the engine idling.
I ran through multiple tactical scenarios in my head. How would I accomplish this as a lone gunman?
I wouldn't.
It was too stupid. But if I was desperate, I’d come up from the canal behind the house. Stick to the shadows. Enter through a second-story window or door—less likely to have an alarm sensor. In this kind of rain, the cameras might not pick up as much. The lenses would be covered in water and fogged over with haze from the humidity.
Maybe this was the perfect time to strike.
45
JD and I hopped out of the car. We moved up the lawn, darted between two houses, and headed down the slope to the canal. From there, we took the seawall east, heading toward Vladimir's estate.
All manner of pleasure craft were docked behind the houses—sailboats, motor yachts, and even small starter yachts.
The rain still poured down, and my shirt stuck to my chest.
A sleek modern 50-foot sailboat was docked behind Vladimir's house. Waves lapped against the hull, and the boat bounced off the fenders in the choppy water.
As we approached, a massive explosion inside Vlad’s boat sent shards of fiberglass and wood scattering in all directions. An orange fireball rolled into the night sky, and black smoke billowed.
The whole neighborhood had to hear.
Bits of smoldering debris rained down, splashing the water and littering the dock.
JD and I took off running toward Vladimir's backyard.
There was no doubt in my mind that Shane was responsible. It was a distraction to draw focus away from the intended target.
JD and I reached Vladimir's property and sprinted up the sprawling slope toward the pool. A terrace just off the master bedroom offered a view of the pool and the canal beyond.
Lights flicked on inside the house and in the master bedroom.
Vladimir stepped to the French doors to see what the commotion was all about. The flames aboard the boat reflected in the glass.
Dressed in black and shouldering an AR-15, a figure waited in the shadows on the terrace. With a black balaclava covering his face, it was impossible to ID the assailant. But I knew it was Shane.
