Chapter 9 - Red Tide at the Harbor
The moment the black craft cleared the rocks, the searchlight from the Port Authority patrol boat swung wildly across the water, locking onto them with a blinding yellow glare.
"Unidentified vessel, this is the Port Authority!" a loud, electronically amplified voice boomed over the storm from the larger boat. "Power down your engines immediately and prepare to be boarded!"
"Not today," Hannah growled through gritted teeth.
She slammed the steering yoke to the left. The hydrofoil hull lifted out of the water, skimming over the crests of five-foot waves at forty knots.
A hail of heavy gunfire erupted from the bow of the patrol vessel. Bullets splashed harmlessly into the ocean trailing fifty feet behind them, unable to match the incredible acceleration of the electric jet craft.
Inside the sealed cabin, Eli didn't scream. He watched the ocean spray splash against the thick poly-carbonate windows, his face illuminated by the soft blue light of the navigation instruments.
"They're coming around!" Gabriel yelled over the roaring hum of the jet drives, watching the radar screen. "They're trying to cut us off before we reach the state harbor boundary!"
"They can't match our turning radius!" Hannah shouted back.
She executed a hard turn around a floating red channel marker. The boat leaned sharply to the right, spraying a twenty-foot rooster-tail of ocean water directly into the windshield of the pursuing patrol vessel, blinding their bridge crew for five critical seconds.
Gabriel picked up the high-frequency secure radio, switching to the emergency frequency monitored by the United States Coast Guard and the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
"Mayday, Mayday, Mayday," Gabriel said calmly into the microphone. "This is Gabriel Marlowe aboard vessel Claire. We are under active automatic weapons fire from rogue Port Authority patrol craft four miles north of Deer Island. I am broadcasting live telemetry and encrypted video evidence of treason and murder involving Deputy Director Richard Hayes."
"Vessel Claire, this is Coast Guard Station Boston," a cool voice responded instantly over the radio. "We have your emergency locator signal. Two medium-endurance cutters and an air-support unit are en route to your position. ETA three minutes. Hold your course."
Gabriel looked out the rear cabin window.
The Port Authority boat was dropping behind, unable to keep pace with the hydrofoil in the rough open sea.
Ten seconds later, the dark clouds above shattered with the roar of heavy rotor blades. A massive twin-engine Coast Guard helicopter swept low over the sea, its powerful fifty-thousand-candlepower searchlight piercing the darkness, freezing the rogue patrol vessel in an inescapable beam of light.
"Patrol Craft 4, this is the United States Coast Guard!" the helicopter’s loudspeaker echoed across the water. "Heave to and prepare for immediate boarding! Drop your weapons!"
Gabriel watched as the patrol boat slowed its engines, its crew realizing the game was completely over.
Hannah pulled back on the throttle levers. The black boat settled back down onto its displacement hull, drifting smoothly into the sheltered waters of Boston Harbor.
Gabriel unbuckled his seatbelt, stepped into the passenger section, and sat down directly across from his son.
Eli looked up from his wooden sailboat.
"Did we win, Dad?" Eli asked quietly.
May you like
Gabriel reached out, gathered his son into his arms, and held him close against his chest. He felt the warm, steady heartbeat of the boy he had thought he had lost forever.
"Yes, Eli," Gabriel choked out, tears finally breaking past his cold demeanor. "We won."
