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“Alex?” I look at our Slavic captain.
He nods ahead. “That boat, see?”
“Wait,” I say. “Roey,” I blurt into the phone. “Does the drone show a yellow speed boat about three hundred yards behind Reznik’s?”
“Wait,” he says. “Yes. Is that you?”
“Yes. Alex!” I get up, widening my stance for balance. “Follow it, try to get close. Now careful, the guy might be armed.”
He cuts me a glare. “You didn’t say armed.”
“Like guns?” Dzima asks, turning to study the boat ahead that we are approaching fast.
“Roey, what do we do?” I ask.
That very moment, the boat catches a wave bump and slams hard, sending me and Dzima toppling over onto the seats.
“?????, ?? ?? ?????, ????1” comes from the cabin, and I look in and see Misha scrambling on his knees on the floor, looking for something.
But my eyes latch onto one thing next to him—a flare gun.
“Alex!” I bark against the wind and the loud roaring of the motor. “That flare gun works?”
“Of course works.”
Perfect.
I go down and grab it. “You have another one?”
“No!” he shouts against the wind.
Fuck. Then I have one shot, one opportunity, as one great rapper said.
“Get closer!” I order. “Not too close right now.”
He is.
“Binoculars?” I ask.
Dzima fetches them in a flash of a second, and I get a closer view of Reznik standing at the helm.
And Lu…
My heart gives out a howl.
She’s in the front seat next to him, looking back at our boat. And I fucking wave, even though Reznik might do something stupid. She needs to know I’m on it.
Hold on tight, Lu. I got you, baby.
I have an idea and shout into the phone, “Roey! We need a distraction!”
And then there’s a shot.
Our boat swerves sharply, sending me onto the floor.
“????!2” Alex hisses. “Fuck, man! He shoot at us!”
I scramble back onto the seat. “Avoid the direct course!”
