“Right. It would be a good spot. If anyone heard gunfire, they’d just assume it was fireworks, especially on the Fourth of July.”
“Of course, if we come from the same direction, we’ll be sitting ducks.”
“Maybe,” Fornier answered, looking at the map. “But if you come from the north instead…”
“You mean go past their position, up to the rail bridge…”
“Right,” Fornier nodded. “You have more of a straight show from there. You have to plane it out, trim it up pretty high, but this kind of boat…”
“Could do it,” Mac nodded, a plan coming together in his mind. He dialed Riley. “Pat, here’s what I need you to do.”
39
The chief felt the boat make a slow turn to the right, the throttle easing back and then into neutral before once again easing forward very slowly. The chief and Lyman both looked at their watches. They’d been traveling for maybe forty-five minutes to an hour.
“When they open that door, do we come charging out?” Hisle asked. “It might be our only shot.”
Flanagan held up his bound hands. “It’s our two to their four, and they all have guns. If we rush them, they’ll just shoot us.”
“So we just let them kill us?”
“I don’t know,” the chief replied. “I don’t like sitting back, going down without a fight. But there’s one thing to keep in mind. If we try something, they might not release Shannon and Carrie.”
“You think they will release them?”
“I have my doubts. But that’s our only play at this point.”
Hisle snorted and shook his head. “So to save the girls, we bite the bullet.”
“You lawyers are always good for the gallows humor,” the chief replied.
The boat came to a stop, and the two men shared a look. Whatever was to happen was going to happen soon.
“Well then,” Hisle said, “I guess this is the end of the line. A hell of a way to go, eh Charlie?” Lyman stuck out his hand, a wry smile on his face.
The chief grasped his hand and shook it. “It’s always been a pleasure, Lyman.”
Smith picked his way through the channel, but it was harder to maneuver in the dimming light. He beached prematurely, approximately one hundred feet from the shoreline. “Shit,” he said.
“Ah don’t worry about it, we just gotta walk a little farther,” Dean said. The Muellers both climbed over the sides to secure the boat and then sloshed to the shore. They started a fire on the beach to help create the camping illusion. The fire started and the boat secure, Dean and David climbed back aboard, and joined Smith and Monica down in the cabin.
Smith took his. 45 off the table and nodded for Dean and David to do the same. “They might try to rush us,” Smith whispered and then nodded to Monica.
She undid the lock to the bathroom and yanked the door open. Flanagan and Hisle remained seated in the bathroom. Smith waved them out with the. 45. Flanagan exited first, grimacing as he slid off the vanity. Hisle followed, lifting himself off the toilet seat. Neither man said a word. The lead kidnapper looked to David, who started up the companionway steps. “Follow him up the steps,” Smith ordered.
Mac stayed as far to the west side of the river as he could and cruised past the mouth of the cove that Brown’s boat had entered. He could see the large boat slowly working its way into the channel. Not wanting to draw attention, at least not yet, Mac continued a half mile farther north, passing beneath the hulking steel train bridge. Then he turned around and idled a few minutes in the river. Mac, Lich, Fornier, and the Stillwater chief all slipped on their vests and checked their weapons. Mac had his Sig-Sauer, Lich his Smith. Fornier and the Stillwater chief each had their sidearm. Fornier slid a new clip into hers.
“You always like a big gun?” Lich asked, cracking jokes even now.
“Yours isn’t big enough for me, I’m sure,” was the tart reply, and only Mac saw her smile. “You think these guys will throw down?” she asked Mac.
“I can’t believe they wouldn’t,” Mac answered. “They’ve come this far. They’re not going to stop without a fight.”
Everyone was locked and loaded. Mac started south, “Riles, are you in position?”
“Copy, Mac, we’re just west of you.”
Mac slammed down the throttle and raced back under the bridge, angling the bow to the left, toward the river’s east side. Everyone crouched down behind him and braced themselves. Five hundred yards from the mouth of the channel into the little bay, Mac gave the order.
“ Now! Now! Now! ”
Struggling through the knee-deep water, Smith pushed toward the shoreline with Flanagan in tow, followed by Monica and Hisle. The two Muellers were further back, still in waist-high water. The kidnappers each had a gun in hand and a nylon bag of ransom money over their shoulders.
The fireworks show had started in Stillwater, accompanied by the occasional smaller blast from campsites south of their position. Then there was a different thumping sound.
Smith looked up.
The chopper dropped out of nowhere, painting them with a blinding light.
“ Get to shore! Get to shore! ” Smith yelled, firing up at the chopper.
“Mac, veer right, veer right. They’re all out of the boat to the left side of the cove!” Riles screamed. “The chief and Hisle are second and fourth from the front!”
Mac could hear the gunfire as he buried the throttle. “A hundred yards, we’re coming in the right side,” he yelled. “Hang on. It’s gonna be rough!”
Mac ducked his head down just over the steering wheel. The boat planed on top of the water, the prop just under the surface as he exploded into the cove beneath the chopper. Brown’s boat bobbed forty-five degrees to the left. The Simon Says hit a sandbar just beneath the surface, skipping into the air. “Hold on!” Mac yelled as the boat bucked left and, hit the water hard, mowing down one of the Mueller brothers just short of shore.
Mac pulled back on the throttle and pulled the wheel to the right just before the boat skidded hard into the shoreline, throwing everyone hard forward. The boat listed hard to the right, creating cover. Mac threw himself over the port side and scrambled to the bow as Lich and the Stillwater chief jumped out and worked their way to the stern of the boat. Fournier was right on Mac’s hip.
At the bow, Mac saw Brown moving to the right.
“Dean! Dean!” David wailed at his brother’s limp, floating corpse.
“Come on! Come on!” Smith yelled. Already on shore, he opened fire on the boat, trying to cover. He glanced right. Hisle and Flanagan were forty feet back in the water, hands still bound, but high-stepping toward the cigarette boat. Smith had pivoted slightly right to fire at Flanagan when his own body jerked hard to the left. He fell to the ground, a searing pain in his left upper arm.
Mac’s second shot hit Brown. He pushed himself under the bow and looked left. The chief and Hisle were running right at him. “Come on! Come on!” Mac yelled. He saw Monica nearly ashore, directly behind Flanagan and Hisle, firing. One shot caught Lyman in the back of his right leg, sending him face-first into the water.
Mac rolled once to his right and emptied his clip. One shot hit the woman in her right shoulder, knocking her
