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There was a silence. Then, a new voice, faint but audible. It had to be coming from a radio onshore. “Get him,” the voice commanded. “Get him or don’t come back.”
Caine. He was using the radio he used to stay in contact with Drake and the day care and the fire station.
Howard said, “Hey, Caine, they have Astrid and the retard, too. And Quinn.”
“What? Say again: Astrid is with them?”
It was Sam who answered him, relishing the moment, even though the triumph was likely to be short-lived. “That’s right, Caine. Your pet psycho failed you.”
“Get them all,” Caine ordered.
“What if they use the power?” Howard whined.
“If they could use the power, they’d already have done so,” Caine said with a smirk that carried across the airwaves. “No excuses: take them down. Caine out.”
Astrid said, “Sam, if you can do it, you need to do it.”
“Do what?” Edilio demanded. “Oh. The thing?”
The radio crackled to life again. Howard said, “You have till I count ten, Sammy. Then we hit it and run you down. Doesn’t have to be like that, but we have no choice. So…ten.”
“Edilio, you and Astrid and Little Pete, down on the deck. Quinn, you with them.”
“Nine.”
Edilio pulled Astrid down beside him and lay flat on the deck with Little Pete between them.
“Eight.”
“This better be a good plan, brah,” Quinn said. But he went and crouched with Astrid.
“Seven. Six.”
The bow of the cigarette boat towered above the stern of the Whaler, a huge red cleaver, bouncing up and down, chopping its way toward them. The roar of all three engines bounced off the barrier, twisting and amplifying the sound.
“Five.”
He had a plan. But the plan was suicide.
“Four.”
“Everyone ready?”
“Ready for what?”
“Three.”
“He’s going to hit us.”
“That’s your plan?” Quinn shrilled.
“Two.”
“Pretty much,” Sam said.
“One.”
Sam heard the twin engines of the cigarette boat ramp up. The red meat cleaver bow leaped forward. It was like someone had strapped a rocket to the back.
