Chapter 6 - The Ghost Signal
Flynn spat a curse, shielding his eyes against the blinding three-million-candlepower searchlight piercing down from the helicopter.
“Shoot her!” Aidan screamed over the thunderous roar of the rotor blades, lunging toward me himself with the iron wrench raised. “Shoot her now!”
I didn't hesitate. I threw myself backward over the heavy stern railing of the yacht.
The cold ocean air rushed past my face for one terrifying second before I slammed violently into the freezing, dark waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
The shock of the icy water knocked the breath completely out of my lungs. I sank deep beneath the violent surface, engulfed in dark, roaring churning foam as the yacht’s powerful propellers churned the water fifty feet away.
Swim! my mind screamed. Swim away from the screws!
I kicked wildly with my bare feet, fighting against the powerful suction of the moving hull, forcing my head back up toward the surface. I broke through the waves, gasping frantically for air, swallowing mouthfuls of salty ocean spray.
Above me, the searchlight from the Coast Guard helicopter was moving rapidly across the deck of the Aurelia. I could see small, black-clad figures rappelling down thick cables onto the rear deck of the yacht. Flashbang grenades detonated with bright, blinding bursts of white light and thunderous booms across the upper deck.
I heard muffled gunfire, frantic shouting, and the sharp command of tactical officers securing the vessel.
“OVER HERE!” I screamed, waving my arms wildly in the towering waves. “IN THE WATER!”
A smaller, secondary searchlight mounted on the nose of the helicopter swung around, sweeping across the dark, violent waves until its blinding white beam locked directly onto my face.
Minutes later, a heavy splash resonated nearby. A Coast Guard rescue swimmer in a bright orange drysuit surged through the waves toward me, pushing a buoyant rescue sling under my arms.
“I’ve got you, ma'am!” the rescue swimmer shouted over the roar of the hovering aircraft. “Hold on tight! Secure your harness!”
Ten minutes later, I was winched upward through the roaring wind and rain, pulled safely into the belly of the Sikorsky MH-60 Jayhawk helicopter. A medic immediately wrapped a heavy thermal blanket around my shivering shoulders, handing me an oxygen mask while tactical officers secured the cabin door.
“Evelyn Sterling?” a senior Coast Guard officer asked, kneeling beside me with a digital tablet.
“Yes,” I gasped, clutching the blanket around my chest, my body shaking uncontrollably from hypothermia and shock. “My husband... Flynn Mercer... his parents... they tried to murder me. Dr. Bennett and Nora Walsh are locked in the brig below deck!”
“Tactical Team Alpha has already secured the deck,” the officer informed me calmly. “The three suspects—Flynn Mercer, Aidan Mercer, and Fiona Mercer—are in custody. Dr. Bennett and your steward have been rescued unharmed.”
I let out a ragged, sob of pure relief, closing my eyes as tears finally mixed with the saltwater on my cheeks.
“How... how did you find us?” I asked, looking up at the officer through trembling eyelashes. “The ship’s power was dead. Flynn said the radio comms were destroyed.”
The officer looked at me with a strange, grave expression. He held up a sleek, black digital device that was broadcasting a continuous, pulsing red signal on his screen.
“We didn't track the ship’s radio,” the officer explained quietly. “We received an automated distress beacon containing full GPS coordinates, audio files of the suspects’ conversation, and your personal toxicological blood report.”
I stared at him in complete disbelief. “Audio files? Toxicological reports? Who sent that?”
“The signal originated from a encrypted satellite uplink registered to your father,” the officer replied. “Richard Sterling activated the tracking protocol forty-five minutes ago from his private residence in New York.”
My blood ran cold.
May you like
My father.
My father had been monitoring the boat the entire time.
