Poseidon's Arrow

inflatable but stroked toward the ship. He couldn’t match speed with the fleeing vessel, but he had a second target in mind: the ship’s bowline, dangling through its scupper and dragging through the water. He snagged the thick line, then slid along its length until he reached a heavy looped end. A smaller messenger line was attached to it, and he tossed that line to one of the men in the inflatable.

“Stay with the ship,” he yelled to Summer, grabbing the side of the inflatable as she wielded it around and chased after the vessel.

A weakened Madrid leaned over the side and helped Pitt aboard. Together, they reeled in the heavy bowline. Pitt had his daughter push ahead of the ship, dragging the line like an anchor. On shore, Dirk had sprinted to the end of the dock, where a final mooring bitt was mounted. As the inflatable struggled closer, Gomez guessed what they were attempting and turned the Adelaide as far across the inlet as he could.

Dirk could see the ship pulling away and urged Summer to hurry. Pitt’s and Madrid’s arms ached from pulling the heavy line as Summer buried the throttle and took a bead on her brother. Dirk got on his belly and leaned over the side of the dock as the inflatable pulled alongside and Summer cut the motor. Pitt heaved the loop at the end of the line up and Dirk grabbed it just as the line went taut. Muscling it with all his might, he rolled the loop to his side, barely slipping it over the end of the bitt.

“Get clear in case it snaps,” Pitt yelled.

Dirk got to his feet and sprinted down the dock as Summer turned the inflatable around and followed. Suddenly the inflatable veered toward the Adelaide, and Dirk quickly saw why. Summer brought the boat alongside the dangling gangway and Pitt jumped up and grabbed it. Climbing hand over hand, he pulled himself up and boarded the ship.

The bowline was pulled taut, grabbing the ship by its nose and holding it in place. With its propeller still churning, the stern began swinging to starboard, threatening to lodge the ship crossways in the inlet. On the dock, the mooring bitt’s mounts strained under the pressure, fighting to hold the ship in place.

As the tug-of-war played out, Summer brought the inflatable alongside a dock ladder, where Dirk helped Madrid and the other injured men ashore. When Jorge, the last man, was transferred to the dock, Dirk jumped into the inflatable. “Run me over. I’ll back him up,” he shouted.

Summer gunned the throttle and shot to the side of the Adelaide, allowing Dirk to jump onto the dangling gangway.

“Be careful,” she shouted.

Dirk nodded. “Just get away from that line.”

Summer hurried back to the dock as a twang arose from the straining rope. Gomez had turned the rudder over and was applying full power against the line. Something had to give and finally it did.

The bowline’s threaded loop snapped at the mooring bitt, sending the line whipsawing toward the Adelaide. Clinging to the gangway, Dirk ducked as the line slapped against the hull, nearly taking his head off. As the loose line began to fall over him, he scrambled up the gangway and pulled himself onto the deck.

Free of its leash, the ship surged forward, angling out of the narrow inlet. Dirk scanned the deck for his father, but aside from the bodies of the two gunmen on the bow, the ship appeared empty. He eyed the bridge atop the rear superstructure and took off at a run across the long, open deck. He made it to a side door and was on the first steps of the companionway when gunfire erupted overhead.

Repeated bursts of gunfire sounded for nearly half a minute as Dirk raced up the stairs. When he reached the fourth level, the shooting fell silent, and he proceeded cautiously from there up to the bridge deck. He clutched the SIG Sauer at the ready as he crept onto the bridge.

He’d taken only a few steps past the door when a warm muzzle was jammed into the back of his neck. He froze in his tracks, but the barrel was quickly removed.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to come aboard.”

Dirk turned his head to find it was his father holding the gun, relief plastered on his face.

“I wasn’t aware you were the captain of this tub,” Dirk said.

“Apparently, I am now.” Pitt pointed across the bridge.

There was nothing but carnage around them. The bridge windows were shot out and the radar and navigation monitors shattered. Smoke from the decimated electronics filled the air with an acrid odor. In the far corner lay the bloodied body of Gomez.

“Gave him a chance, but he refused to take it.”

Dirk nodded, then glanced out the broken forward window of the pilotless ship. The Adelaide had nearly cleared the inlet, but a wall of rocks and mangroves blocked its path.

“There’re rocks ahead!” he said, jumping to the helm.

“They’re not real,” Pitt replied. “Part of the fake scenery to disguise the inlet.”

A few seconds later, the ship charged into the decoys. There was no jarring collision. Instead the Adelaide sailed smoothly through. Out the side window, Dirk saw an overturned Styrofoam rock gently float away.

Clear of the inlet, the Adelaide charged into the open waters of Gatun Lake. A large crane ship was crossing the canal to the north, while a pair of tankers and a containership were headed around a bend to the south. Pitt stepped to the helm and dialed up the ship’s throttle controls to full.

“Not going back for the others?” Dirk asked.

Pitt gave a steely gaze toward the containership vanishing around the channel ahead.

“No,” he said. “We have a ship to catch.”

71

BOLCKE STOOD PEERING OUT THE REAR BRIDGE WINDOW. Billows of black smoke from the site of his hidden facility painted the horizon. It was destroyed, he knew, because of the escaped prisoner, the one who had tossed the smoke grenade onto his front steps.

But Pablo was right. The money he would receive from selling the Sea Arrow’s technology would leave plenty for a new rare earth extraction facility. He had already done work at a site on Madagascar; he could safely expand his operations there. But he would lose precious months of trading activity at a critical time in the minerals market. Once he was safely in Colombia, he vowed, he would have Pablo hunt down the prisoner and bring him his head on a platter.

He faced forward as the Salzburg entered a narrow stretch of Gatun Lake called Gamboa Reach. “How much farther to the lock?”

Pablo turned from the helm. “It’s about twelve miles to Pedro Miguel.” He noted the angst on Bolcke’s face. “I’ve radioed ahead. The lock’s transit chief is expecting our passage. There will be no problems.”

The bridge radio blared with the voice of a tanker pilot castigating another ship for passing it on the lake. Bolcke and Pablo ignored the chatter as they eyed the Sea Arrow’s motor on the deck below, covered on the flatbed truck and concealed by stacked containers.

Two miles behind them, the tanker’s pilot still spouted venom at the large bulk carrier that had cut in front of him. “The maximum speed in this section of the canal is eight knots, jerk,” he radioed.

On the bridge of the Adelaide, Pitt couldn’t hear a word the man said, since the ship’s radio had been destroyed in his gun battle with Gomez. He didn’t even know his speed, as the navigation instruments were also demolished. But he had little doubt the ship was traveling well over eight knots.

Empty of all cargo and most of her fuel, the Adelaide sailed light on her feet. Pitt coaxed every ounce of speed he could from the ship, and soon had her approaching twenty knots. She left the tanker and its angry pilot in her wake as Pitt set his sights on the next vessel ahead. It was a large Dutch Panamax tanker, built to the original specs of the canal’s locks at nearly a thousand feet long.

The canal channel had narrowed even more as Pitt caught up to the Dutch ship and pulled up to its port flank to pass. The Adelaide had just edged alongside the tanker when a large blue containership appeared, sailing in the opposite direction.