“Then get to work!” the Snake King said. “Or your niece is dead, Professor Diaz!”
With the Mercados’ laughter in the air, Diaz dropped to his knees and began to operate the crude magnetron. The device buzzed and hummed and began to glow a bright reddish gold, just as it had back in the cave. When Diaz got to his feet, Carlos Mercado pulled him out of the way and gave the Snake King the room he needed to operate the Stormbringer.
Slowly the device grew in power. Then, a burst of energy ripped up from the center of the capstone and shot into the air. Pelicans screeched and flapped away. The yacht rocked back and forth violently as gray clouds began to form in the blue sky above them.
Tarántula made the sign of the cross and took a step back. “Dios mío!”
The Snake King laughed and watched the flow of energy grow in power. Now, a full storm was already building over Miami Beach. Confused beachgoers were packing up and heading back to their cars as the wind grew in strength. Smaller boats on the marina thrashed violently up and down as the water frothed and bubbled beneath them. The clouds swirled and the storm grew ever more powerful.
“It’s turning into a hurricane!” Atticus screamed. “For God’s sake turn it off!”
“Silence!” the Snake King yelled. “This is the will of Huracan!”
The wind tore at palm trees, biting at them and then ripping them from the ground. In the marina, several of the yachts were ripped to pieces, their masts torn out of the decks. Others were tipped over and capsized. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of sirens pierced through the noise of the raging storm, and wrapping around all of the chaos, the maniacal sound of the Snake King’s laughter.
Then it stopped when he positioned the carved head of Huracan over the hole at the capstone’s center and everything crashed into silence. The energy beam collapsed and the clouds began to dissipate.
“My God!” Diaz said. “This is the work of the devil!”
“And yet I used only a tiny fraction of its power,” the Snake King said. “Just think what full power will do! Tarántula, I have decided to change the target of my next strike. Miami is not impressive enough. I want to make a much bigger impression when I strike. Tell the men to prepare the jet for flight. We leave immediately.”
32
“Miami Beach Marina.” Cade jutted his chin at the yachts bobbing up and down on the sparkling water. Moments earlier, the sky had been a swirling maelstrom of storm clouds and a fierce wind had battered the coast, but now it was once again a normal summer’s day. Local news and the internet was abuzz with intrigue and speculation about what had happened, but no one on the Avalon crew needed two guesses to know the truth.
They had just exited their hire car and were walking down a paved slope on the southwestern tip of the South Beach district. Felipe Acosta and Diana had volunteered to stay back at the hotel with a shaken and dazed Charlie Valentine, but Decker had assessed that the remaining crew would be enough to get on the yacht and do what they had to do.
Cade took in a deep breath of sea air and sighed as he took in the damage inflicted by the mini-hurricane. “It’s one of the most popular marinas in town, and with the closest mooring to the ocean. Now it looks like they have some rebuilding work to do.”
Selena watched as an ambulance parked up at the far end of the marina. Two paramedics got out and ran down a jetty toward a freshly battered yacht. On the far side of the marina, several people were clinging to the hulls of some upturned boats. She took in the billions of dollars’ worth of luxury vessels moored up on the Meloy Channel. Further south, a large white cruise ship had sailed into view from the northern shore of Dodge Island and was making its way out to sea along Government Cut.
“Where did your CIA buddy say the Holcan was moored?” Decker asked.
“It’s one of the more expensive moorings,” Cade said. “We’re almost there now.” He pointed to a white-painted metal gate leading down to a jetty, flanked by palm trees. “It must be behind this blue one, the Reina.
This was good luck. The Holcan was a hefty Tri-Deck and they could already see its marine radar array protruding above the Reina, a large Persian blue flybridge moored just in front of their target yacht. They moved toward it with their weapons concealed inside their jackets, led by Cade in his creased Raffia straw hat and Ray-Ban shades. To their left, an old man heaved a marlin up out of a modest fishing boat and gave them a cheery wave as they passed.
“I hope everyone’s ready for a lively discussion,” Decker said.
As they passed the Reina’s bow, Selena looked up and saw a handful of men milling around in the pilothouse. On the deck above it, one lone figure was standing in the skylounge. She’d bet the farm it was Danvers, the self-styled Snake King. He was looking away from the marina and out across Government Cut and the Norwegian cruise ship.
“Time to party, kids,” Riley said. “Know where your guns are.”
The four of them continued toward the Holcan, Cade in the lead and followed by Decker and Riley with Selena at the rear.
Noting the absence of guards on the jetty around the yacht, Decker said, “No one to welcome us at the front door?”
