surprised when the captain pushed the throttle forward and the boat surged ahead. He’d figured that they would be lucky to do ten knots, but the GPS read fourteen, which was unbelievable.
“What have you got in this thing?” Igor asked, impressed.
“Twin Caterpillar 3208 TAs,” the captain beamed.
“I would have made this for a single screw.”
“That’s the whole point. But if I need to outrun a storm…or anything else…better to have some power, you know?”
“Few more knots and you’d get up on plane,” Igor teased. The fishing boat may have been supercharged, but there were physical limits to the speed a displacement hull could achieve, given a certain length and width.
“Make yourselves at home. It’ll be a while,” the captain said.
“Where are we headed?”
“Puerto Vacamonte.”
“Near Balboa?”
The captain gave him the beginning of a smile. “But far enough so there are no prying eyes.”
“Good.”
“How long will it take to get there?”
“Six hours, at this speed.”
That would put them into the port at roughly eight o’clock, so dark by the time they arrived.
Igor called Fernanda and gave her the details.
“I’ll get on it and have a welcoming committee waiting when you dock. If the woman shows up, she’s history,” Fernanda promised.
“Where are you now?” Igor asked.
“I’m in Medellín,” she said. “Our Panamanian friend has a contact here. I’m supposed to meet him soon, so we’ll see what he can do for us.”
“Every minute counts.”
“As well I know.”
“But no pressure.”
“Of course not.”
He hung up, and Leon joined him as they watched the ocean blow past, the water sapphire blue and crystal clear, the breeze refreshing in the heat. The Panamanian gunman, one of their contact’s top enforcers, leaned into him after glancing around to ensure that neither the captain nor the three fishermen that served as crew were nearby.
“So how are we going to do this? If the woman’s going to meet the boat, she’s going to figure out pretty quickly that neither one of us is a child or a gringo.”
“We stay onboard. Your boss is arranging for reinforcements. They’ll have the same photo you do. If she shows, they’ll take her out.”
“But we still get paid the same, right?” Leon asked.
Igor smiled. Of course. The man was worried about his fee, as would Igor in the same circumstances. “Sure. It doesn’t really matter whose bullet kills her. She just needs to die.”
“How are Carlos and Raphael going to get off the cargo ship?”
“Same trick the gringo played. Lifeboat. When they’re only twenty or so miles off Los Santos point, they’ll make their way to shore.”
“And the ship?”
“They won’t be able to do much in another few hours about our hitching a ride. It’ll be too late.” Igor paused. “And anyway, I got the feeling that the captain wasn’t the type to call the cops – he’d have a lot of explaining to do himself. No, they’ll continue on their way as though nothing happened.”
“Minus their lifeboats.”
“It’s an imperfect world.”
~ ~ ~
As the afternoon drew to a close, the Seylene ’s captain was growing more nervous. He’d smoked his last cigarette, but Carlos, the gunman, wouldn’t let him go below to get more. He hadn’t seen any of his crew for hours, not since the ringleader had disembarked onto the fishing boat, nor had he heard from his mechanical engineer or any of the crew in the engine room, and he was getting a sinking feeling in his gut.
When he’d demanded to know what Carlos intended to do with them, the gunman had smiled a psychotic grin and assured him that he’d be out of their hair soon. Carlos had questioned the captain at length about launching the remaining lifeboat, and it became quickly apparent that he and the other thug planned to take it, leaving the crew to keep going without looking back.
Which was a safe bet. The captain didn’t need anyone
“What have you got in this thing?” Igor asked, impressed.
“Twin Caterpillar 3208 TAs,” the captain beamed.
“I would have made this for a single screw.”
“That’s the whole point. But if I need to outrun a storm…or anything else…better to have some power, you know?”
“Few more knots and you’d get up on plane,” Igor teased. The fishing boat may have been supercharged, but there were physical limits to the speed a displacement hull could achieve, given a certain length and width.
“Make yourselves at home. It’ll be a while,” the captain said.
“Where are we headed?”
“Puerto Vacamonte.”
“Near Balboa?”
The captain gave him the beginning of a smile. “But far enough so there are no prying eyes.”
“Good.”
“How long will it take to get there?”
“Six hours, at this speed.”
That would put them into the port at roughly eight o’clock, so dark by the time they arrived.
Igor called Fernanda and gave her the details.
“I’ll get on it and have a welcoming committee waiting when you dock. If the woman shows up, she’s history,” Fernanda promised.
“Where are you now?” Igor asked.
“I’m in Medellín,” she said. “Our Panamanian friend has a contact here. I’m supposed to meet him soon, so we’ll see what he can do for us.”
“Every minute counts.”
“As well I know.”
“But no pressure.”
“Of course not.”
He hung up, and Leon joined him as they watched the ocean blow past, the water sapphire blue and crystal clear, the breeze refreshing in the heat. The Panamanian gunman, one of their contact’s top enforcers, leaned into him after glancing around to ensure that neither the captain nor the three fishermen that served as crew were nearby.
“So how are we going to do this? If the woman’s going to meet the boat, she’s going to figure out pretty quickly that neither one of us is a child or a gringo.”
“We stay onboard. Your boss is arranging for reinforcements. They’ll have the same photo you do. If she shows, they’ll take her out.”
“But we still get paid the same, right?” Leon asked.
Igor smiled. Of course. The man was worried about his fee, as would Igor in the same circumstances. “Sure. It doesn’t really matter whose bullet kills her. She just needs to die.”
“How are Carlos and Raphael going to get off the cargo ship?”
“Same trick the gringo played. Lifeboat. When they’re only twenty or so miles off Los Santos point, they’ll make their way to shore.”
“And the ship?”
“They won’t be able to do much in another few hours about our hitching a ride. It’ll be too late.” Igor paused. “And anyway, I got the feeling that the captain wasn’t the type to call the cops – he’d have a lot of explaining to do himself. No, they’ll continue on their way as though nothing happened.”
“Minus their lifeboats.”
“It’s an imperfect world.”
~ ~ ~
As the afternoon drew to a close, the Seylene ’s captain was growing more nervous. He’d smoked his last cigarette, but Carlos, the gunman, wouldn’t let him go below to get more. He hadn’t seen any of his crew for hours, not since the ringleader had disembarked onto the fishing boat, nor had he heard from his mechanical engineer or any of the crew in the engine room, and he was getting a sinking feeling in his gut.
When he’d demanded to know what Carlos intended to do with them, the gunman had smiled a psychotic grin and assured him that he’d be out of their hair soon. Carlos had questioned the captain at length about launching the remaining lifeboat, and it became quickly apparent that he and the other thug planned to take it, leaving the crew to keep going without looking back.
Which was a safe bet. The captain didn’t need anyone
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