Back on Castle Hill, Lilith hovered over Niles's shoulder, watching the scene on the Kosatka's bridge unfold via the screen in his hands. The drone's camera peered through the bridge window with high definition as Niles expertly piloted his toy to keep pace with the charging yacht.
"Shit, they have Cal!" she said.
The screen showed a large man had his elbow around Cal's neck, and it looked like there was a pistol shoved into his side. Frank had his own gun drawn and they were in a stand-off. She could see a woman standing there with her palms up and just the hint of another man kneeling in front of the pilot's dashboard. The camera view wobbled as Niles fought both the wind and the yacht's forward movement. Beads of sweat dotted his papery scalp.
Not fucking good.
Lilith darted to the viewing platform where Jonathan waited at the iron railing. Far below them, the Kosatka churned the water behind it as it raced towards the port exit to the south. It was quickly approaching the concrete breakwater that rose up like a wall in the sea, but as soon as the yacht turned, it would be a straight shot to the Mediterranean beyond. If Frank and Cal were brought out to sea—they were dead. She had no back-up plan, no team of special operators on standby, no high-altitude drones.
They had seconds to act.
"We can't let them escape to open water!" she said, grasping the metal railing that separated them from the steep slope downward to the port.
"On it, ma'am!" he said, and in his posh accent it sounded like mum. He knelt at the edge of the slope and used the iron railing to balance the EWD. The heavy stock rested on Jonathan's shoulder, and he aimed the large cylinder containing all the electronic antennas over the railing at the Kosatka, tracking the yacht's progress through the eyepiece.
A moment passed and then another.
Niles urged him on from his wheelchair. "Come on, Jona'fin, any day now! Easier than picking-off Taliban at Sangingrad!"
"Quite right, sir," Jonathan said with his cheek pressed against the EWD as he tracked the yacht below. "And . . . here we are, now."
Lilith watched him squeeze the trigger and braced for the crack of a rifle round she knew wouldn't be released. Instead, there was a high-pitched tone to indicate that the device was active.
Was this what the terrorists heard when they brought down the Black Hawk helicopter outside of Fort Drum? Somewhere downrange circuits were scrambled, navigation confused, and a helicopter was barreling through the night towards a dark mountainside. Why didn't they see it coming through with their night vision? There were still so many questions, and it seemed so ridiculous to deal death with the sound of a tone.
Beep, beep, BEEP, we're sorry but the number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service.
Yeah, just like the dozen soldiers outside of Fort Drum. Lilith gritted her teeth against the rage boiling inside as she tracked the Kosatka with her eyes. If these Russian brothers were responsible for selling advanced military electronics to terrorists, they were about to get a live demonstration of their own wares. Assuming it worked. Assuming that sinking a civilian boat with stolen Russian technology didn't make her a terrorist. Her skin crawled at the idea. It was too late to balk now, though. Her boys were onboard and she wasn't about to let some Russian thugs escape with them out to sea. Besides, using an enemy's weapon against them was such a classic Frank thing to do. If he owed her anything after that day, it would at least be a smile for the irony.
"GPS disrupted. Navigation jammed," Jonathan announced calmly with his cheek pressed against the rifle, still tracking the yacht below.
The Kosatka continued forward in its reckless speed, heedless of the other boats around it. Heavy wake spread behind the yacht in a giant V, nearly capsizing a smaller vessel caught unawares. The Kosatka should be slowing now, preparing for a turn to the southeast to run parallel to the rocky breakwater ahead—but crucial seconds passed and the distance between the yacht and the concrete wall diminished rapidly. The two would meet in mere moments with a spectacular and disastrous result.
"Impact imminent," Jonathan confirmed, still tracking the yacht through the eyepiece.
Lilith locked her eyes open, willing herself to catch every detail of the coming impact. Her investigation into Black Fish, now joined as one word—Blackfish—was finally progressing and she was one step closer to getting answers—and justice—for the American soldiers killed in that helicopter. Given just a little more time, she would arrange for the Russian brothers to be arrested and then turned over to American agents at the DIA, where there was a crack team of interrogators on standby and a black site waiting for visitors. All their secrets would be revealed.
Legally and ethically, of course.
There'd be reams of necessary paperwork, everything from chain of custody to legal representation and a legion of watchdogs supervising everything, but still—this was a tremendous opportunity . . . and she owed it all to Frank Fumagalli.
Great.
She'd reluctantly have that conversation eventually—assuming Frank and Cal escaped from the yacht and what was about to happen to it. And Cal's Estonian girlfriend had better make it back to shore, too. Lilith had questions. But beyond that, if Cal was right, then Eeva was about to kill the Russian brothers or get herself killed in the process. Neither of those was an acceptable outcome. Otherwise, what was the point? But that was just like Cal, wasn't it? Always stepping up when needed and stepping right in front of the trouble. Cal had once told her that when they were teenagers, Frank was always the one getting them into trouble and Cal was always the one getting them out of it. Lilith believed that, with Cal's big smile and broad shoulders and the aww-shucks demeanor that went far in small towns. But Cal was as genuine a person as she had ever met—with a heart for doing good and sometimes stepping in shit for all his trouble. And Cal didn't think of Eeva as a valuable intelligence asset. Cal didn't care how she could connect the dots with red string across continents.
No, he'd gone after her because it was the right thing to do.
Cal had stepped into another world of shit, but this time—at least—he wasn't alone. So far, she'd stopped the Russians from fleeing into the open sea, and now she needed to get her friendlies safely off that boat.
All of them.
But then, and not for the first time, new flaws in the plan bubbled up to the surface like they'd only now escaped the clutches of an imminently sinking luxury yacht. First, the Kosatka was going too fast, way faster than it should be for navigating the marina. She hadn't accounted for the Russians panicking. And secondly–
Niles cheered and interrupted her thoughts. “The bastards are going to crash!"
Lilith rushed to the edge of the viewing platform and squeezed between two tourists. The massive Kosatka looked like a toy in the distance as it chewed through the marina towards the breakwater ahead. With only seconds before impact, the crowd held its collective breath, Lilith included.
And secondly, Lilith finished her thought, Frank can't swim.