“Execute, execute, execute.”
Fuse pulled, I chucked mine up and toward the opposite ceiling while Wolf threw his low and right. Two seconds later, the deafening explosion and blast of white light forced our targets to the floor.
The crew members—two men, maybe mid-forties, covering their heads with their hands, their bodies curled into fetalpositions—were clearly unarmed. And caught completely by surprise.
Tommy pulled pitch and began to fly his helo in a close orbit, still illuminating the ship for Team Rhino to search.
Sixth sense told me there was no threat here. Even so, I kept my HK MP5 trained on their heads while Wolf checked the spectacular cockpit. State-of-the-art navigation instruments were inlaid in teak and mahogany panels. The captain’s chair resembled a royal throne. The radio and computer systems were powerful enough to control the space shuttle.
“All stations, cockpit secure.”
“Roger,” Oliver called. “Stand by for SITREP.”
“Standing by.”
Wolf began his interrogation and started with the basics. Gilligan and the Skipper had a vaguely Slavic look to them and didn’t understand English well.
“Listen, motherfucker, if you don’t tell me where the fuck the senator is, I’m just going to beat your ass with a club,” Wolf threatened.
Nothing.
“Congratulations, you cracked the case, Wolfgang,” I joked, landing my payback for his laughing at my spill on deck. “That one on the right was probably Bin Laden’s fucking driver too.”
Instinctively I knew this wasn’t the right ship, but I needed Oliver to confirm that.
“We got one.”
I looked at Wolf. “OBL?”
Wolf flipped me off in reply as we waited for Oliver to send the report.
“Target secure—dry hole. I say again,dry hole. We have one passenger, but no trace of precious cargo. Lots of coke but no Harrison. Moving to your location now.”
Oliver strolled into the cockpit a few seconds later. Meg and JP had remained below with the lone passenger. He gave a quick recap of clearing the yacht. Apparently just another luxury craft, out for a cruise in the Atlantic.
“And what about the passenger?”
“Yes, we have some Russian dude down below. He literally stepped out of the stateroom while Meg was clearing. As only Meg can do, she kicked him right in the jimmy when he made a move on her. The bastard’s lucky she didn’t stitch him. Dropped like a sack of shit.”
“That must’ve hurt. Is he talking?”
“Nothing I could understand, but I do believe he was calling Meg some very bad names. Anyway, he’s flex-cuffed and gagged, so not going anywhere for a while.”
“Can’t really blame him, but it’s the price one pays for getting in the lady’s way. Anyway, gotta be the other one. I’ll get Tommy back here. Wolf, see if you can find the other ship on radar. Oliver, go tell Meg to ask the Russki what the fuck is going on over there. Don’t take any shit from him, either.”
“I scooped up all the phones and guns I could find,” said Oliver. “But what do you want me to do with all this coke, boss? He’s got a shit ton of it—must be worth a fortune.”
I nodded toward the ocean, smiled, and walked away to call Lopez. I gave the pilot a quick update, then quickly made a mental review of the details of this raid. Failed or not, it would be important data as we searched for Harrison.
“Didn’t they teach youJust say no to drugs,comrade?” That was JP in his best Russian accent as my team tossed a few dozen kilos of Colombia’s bumper crop into the cold Atlantic.
In a perfect world, I would have brought all three of these mobsters in for some one-on-one time with Meg. We would have rolled them up and done the whole drill, but we didn’t have the time.
Still, I was feeling confident that we would see them again later. We decided on catch and release.
CHAPTER 51
Cliff Road, north of the Wilson Estate
