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“In the meantime, call theMr. Beaumont. Warn them.”
¦¦¦
“Okay, I’m going to sit you down in that parking lot ahead,” Bart, the pilot, said over the loud swoosh of the propellers. “It’s about a half mile from the marina, but it’s the closest I can land.”
“That’ll be great,” Christian said, then pulled his phone from his pants pocket. “I’m going to check in with Greyson,” he said to Andi.
She nodded.
“Greyson,” he said, pinching his other ear shut with his hand to drown out the noise. “Any luck?”
“I think you’ve got the right yacht. It’s a long story, but the owner has amassed a museum-quality collection of Mayan and Aztec artifacts according to one of the gallery owners who sold him several of the pieces.”
“Great news,” he said. “Were you able to get ahold of the ship or the dockmaster?”
“Dockmaster, yes,” Riley said. “Yacht, no.”
“That’s not good.”
“He said the yacht pushed out to sea about a half hour ago,” Riley said.
“Can you tell him we’re en route and ask if there’s a boat we can use?”
“Already done,” Greyson said. “It’s waiting for you. Coast Guard is sending a boat out too.”
“Great,” Christian said.
“What’s your ETA?” Riley asked.
“We’re landing now. I’ve got to go.”
“Be safe.”
Despite all the years he’d known Greyson, how the man worked his magic was still a mystery.
“Good luck,” Bart said.
“Thanks, and thanks for the ride.”
Shutting the door behind them and ducking from the propellers, despite them being too high to reach—it was a gut reaction—they bolted out of the way and waved as the helicopter rose back up in the sky.
He looked at Andi. “Ready?” he asked.
“Ready.” She nodded and took his hand, and they ran.
SIXTY-EIGHT
FEAR FOR THEMR. BEAUMONT’SOWNERand crewmembers surged through Christian as adrenaline seared his limbs, his body warming with each stride.
Five anxious minutes later, they entered the LightPoint Marina.
The dockmaster met them at the ramp leading down to the slips, his hat clutched in his hands. “You Christian?” he asked.
“Yes, and this is Andi Forester.” He gestured at her, standing beside him.
“Harvey,” he said. “Your colleague Greyson arranged a fast raft for you. Follow me this way. The yacht isn’t answering my radio calls.”
“Any idea where it’s at?”
