“What? It’s a long boat ride,” she said defensively.
“I didn’t say anything. Get me a Curly-Wurly.”
Fletcher paid for the snacks and then ducked into the washroom. I passed the signed contract over, my hand dipping into my pocket, brushing against the heavy envelope there. There wouldn’t be another time to see read it. By the time Fletcher returned, I had put the message back in my pocket, and the man pulled a large ring of keys off the wall and motioned for us to head outside. It had started to mist while we were in the shop, and I popped the collar of my duster to keep it from running down my neck. The team perked up, pushing off the car and following us towards the dock. The old man shuffled down the short set of stairs, humming to himself, and I shot a look at Fletcher, ready to scream at how slowly he was moving. He walked as if his hips were locked in place by thick wire, his back crooked, his feet barely leaving the ground.
Fletcher widened her eyes in agreement and jerked her hand near her neck like she was tightening a noose. But I knew I couldn’t rush someone of his age. It would just slow him down even more.
He led us to three of the fishing boats at the very end of the dock. They bobbed lightly in the water. The paint was slightly chipped, and there were scratches on each of the engines, but they at least looked seaworthy. The old man sorted through his keys one by one and eventually handed me three of them.
“Bring ‘em back when yer done,” he drawled and then tottered off back down the dock.
“Okay, gather round,” I said. “Reid, Barnes, and Holmes. You’re in the first boat. You’ll approach from the south. Elker, and Falkner, you’ll land on the northern side of the island. Fletcher and I will be in the last boat, and we’ll come in from the east. Keep in contact with the radios. We’ll breach once everyone’s in position. Sound like a plan?”
“Yes, sir!” the team chorused, and I passed out the keys.
“Best of luck. Let’s bring the kid home safe.”
As the others began to prep for the journey, I dialled Collins, wanting to check in with him, Fawkes, and Haruto and let three of them know that we were finishing things tonight. But the phone rang and rang and rang, and nobody picked up. I hung up as it went to voicemail, worry etched into the lines of my face. Someone should have answered. It wasn’t even that late yet. I called Fawkes, too, just to be safe, but it went right to voicemail as well.
“Haruto’s team isn’t picking up,” I said to Fletcher. The other five settled in their boats, waiting for the two of us.
“Maybe they’re in the bathroom?” Fletcher suggested, but she didn’t sound like she believed it.
“All at once?”
“What do you want to do? We can’t be in two places at once.”
I snarled and clenched a fist as I tried to think of a solution. Holden and his people wanted to split us up, confuse us. I didn’t think he knew we’d found his island, but I had to act like he at least suspected it, and that meant he could be preparing to run. This could be our only chance to nab him before he disappeared into the wind, and I couldn’t do that if I went running off across town after Haruto. The best I could do was text Dunnel and have him send someone to check on Haruto and the others. It didn’t feel like enough. It felt like letting the man down, giving him over to Allraise Ventures as if his life were less important than Finn’s. Hopefully, his skill set and manuscript would be enough to protect him.
Our boat was the smallest of the three, and it rocked as I stepped carefully on the bench and then down to the deck. Fletcher passed me the paper bag full of snacks before she followed me down, water sloshing against the boat’s hull. I put the key in and turned it, but it took me a couple of times pulling the starter string before the engine finally coughed, turned over, and then started. It roared loudly in the quiet of the tiny marina as I edged us away from the dock and out into the open water of the Moray Firth.
Fletcher shivered as a cold wind cut right through her coat and put her hood up against the mist as we waited for the others to start their motors and join us. Then I pointed the rudder at the firth’s mouth and twisted the throttle, and soon, we were cruising through the water, flanked by the other two boats. We bounced over each little wave, the rudder shuddering in my hand, and I worried about what that would mean when we left the sheltered cove of the firth. I gritted my teeth and kept going even as my whole arm started to go numb, and my butt began to ache on the hard wooden bench. Fletcher kept lookout at the bow of the boat, hunched over her plastic-wrapped phone to keep an eye on the map she downloaded before we left.
For the first hour, we boated in silence. The sun had started its descent, the light that had managed to find a way through the clouds dimming rapidly as the water turned dark and the land dissolved into shadow. The rudder fought me every step of the way, desperate to list to the left and send us careening towards shore. My hands were cold and stiff even inside my thick gloves, and before long, my cheeks felt chapped and raw, and I desperately wished I’d thought to bring a scarf like Fletcher did. The wind blew relentlessly
