ear-shattering, unexpected detonation, panicked by the ball of smoke and the branches of fire that rose beyond the house on the hill. This island will go into the sea! What happened?'
'The second tank blew! I couldn't predict, I could only hope.'
A single gunshot. From the dock. Emilio was hit! He doubled over grabbing his upper thigh as the blood spread through his trousers. A man with a rifle moved out of the moonlit shadows fifty feet away, raising a hand-held intercom to his face. Evan crouched, his whole body now a festering boil, and raised his left hand to steady his right and the Colt automatic. He fired twice, one or both of his shots hitting the target. The guard reeled, dropping both the rifle and the radio; he fell on the thick wood planks and was still.
'Come on, amigo!' cried Kendrick, gripping Emilio's shoulder.
'I cannot travel I have no leg!'
'Well, I'm not going to die with you, you bastard! I've got a couple of loved ones, too, over there. Get off your ass or swim back to El Descanso and your ninos!'
‘?Como?' shouted the Mexican furiously as he struggled to rise.
That's better. Get angry! We've both got a lot to be angry about.' His arm around Emilio's waist, his barely functioning shoulder and legs supporting the Mexican, the two men walked out on the dark dock. The big boat on the right!' yelled Evan, grateful that the moon had gone back behind the clouds. 'You know about boats, amigo?'
'I am a fisherman!'
'Boats like this?' asked Kendrick, propelling Emilio over the side on to the deck, laying the .45 on the gunwale.
'You don't catch fish on these boats, you catch turistas.'
'There's another definition—’
'Es igua!… Still, I have run many boats. I can try… The other boats, senor! They will come out and find us for they are much faster than this beautiful one.'
'Could any of them make it to the mainland?'
'Never. They cannot take heavy swells, and burn fuel too quickly. Thirty, forty kilometres and they must come back. This is the barca for us.'
'Give me your Sterno!' yelled Evan, hearing shouts up on the main path. The Mexican yanked the small tin out of his right pocket as Kendrick removed his two and prised up the lids with the carving knife. 'Open yours, if you can!'
'I have. Here, senor. I go up to the bridge.'
'Can you make it?'
'I have to… El Descanso.'
'Oh, Christ! A key! For the engine?
'In these private docks it is customary to leave the key on board in case storms or heavy winds make it necessary to move—’
'Suppose they didn't?'
'All fishermen go out with many drunken captains. There are panels to open and wires to cross. Get the lines, senor!'
'Two ranches,' said Evan as Emilio hobbled to the bridge ladder.
Kendrick turned, grabbing the Colt automatic from the gunwale and digging out the solid fuel of the Sterno with his fingers. He ran down the dock throwing handfuls over the canvas of each huge speedboat, heaving each empty can into each boat. At the last boat he reached into his pocket and pulled out a fistful of matches, crouching in pain and frantically striking one after another on the wooden planks of the dock and lobbing them into the globs of scattered jelly until the flames leaped up from all the coverings. At each speedboat he fired the automatic into the hulls near the water lines, the powerful weapon blowing large holes in whatever the light alloy was that permitted the boats their excessive speed.
Emilio had done it! The deep-throated roar of the
