Sea of Greed

“That’s the general idea,” Kurt shouted, lifting the wrench above his head. “I know what you’ve filled these tanks with. One more hit and we’ll all be out of our misery, so back off.”

The rest of the crew moved backward, but Volke stepped forward with a smug grin on his face. “He’s bluffing.”

“Take one more step and you’ll find out if that’s true.”

Even Volke stopped now. “You don’t really want to die here.”

“Who does?” Kurt replied. “But if it’s between getting captured and killed by you and your men or blowing this ship to kingdom come and dying as a couple of heroes… well, then, I think you know which one of those I’m going to pick.”

Around Volke, the men started retreating. They were chemical engineers, former roughnecks and people from other assorted backgrounds. They wanted nothing to do with Kurt and the dented pipe.

Volke was different. He was a killer and he hadn’t gotten where he was by playing it safe. He regripped the knife and stepped forward. “And our options are life in prison or charge you and test your mettle. I think you can imagine which one I’m going to pick.”

Kurt saw instantly that Volke was ready to die rather than give in.

“So be it,” Kurt said. He brought his arm down, slamming the pipe once again. Sparks flew and everyone dove for cover, but there was no detonation, only a further bending of the pipe followed by a shrill whine as a tiny jet of high-pressure gas escaped from a pinprick-sized hole in middle of the dent.

Kurt didn’t wait. He lunged in the other direction and dove for cover.

Volke wasn’t as lucky. He turned and dove but was caught in the flash as the pipe blew itself apart and the escaping gas morphed into a twelve-foot jet of flame.

40

GREAT SOUND, BERMUDA

PRIYA WAS BACK on the top deck of the Lucid Dream

, sitting at her computer console. She remained in the dive suit — in case she decided to go out again — but had wrapped herself up in a luxurious robe of Egyptian cotton.

Initiating the tracking program, she waited as the progress indicator crossed the screen from right to left. When it reached a hundred percent, a map of the world appeared, complete with a blinking dot in middle of the Atlantic.

At first, Bermuda remained invisible, but as she zoomed in, the island appeared and then the fishhook curve and finally the islands dotting the Great Sound including Baker’s Rock.

The blinking dot was clearly visible in the water next to one of the small islands, flashing on and off, exactly where it should be.

Quite pleased with her work, Priya poured herself a glass of champagne. “Just try and hide from us now.”

As she sat back, a chime sounded from inside the upper deck salon.

Priya recognized it as the alarm indicator. She pulled up an interface on her computer that showed a schematic of the yacht. The aft doors had been forced open.

It couldn’t be Kurt or Joe, they would have radioed in and she would have heard the rumbling Pavati as they drew near.

A motion alarm on the lower deck sounded next. Onboard cameras showed a figure in the main passageway and another coming up the midship’s stairwell.

Priya shut the laptop, put it on her legs and turned her wheelchair. With two quick thrusts of her arms, she propelled herself forward and into the salon, heading for the elevator.

She didn’t make it.

A man rushed up the forward stairs and grabbed her chair, stopping it in its tracks, just as the elevator doors opened. He loomed over her, broad-shouldered, with a bushy beard.

“Where do you think you’re going, little lady?”

He was leaning forward, his hands on the arms of the wheelchair. That put him in a vulnerable position. Priya made the most of it, grabbing the laptop and smashing him across the face with it.

He fell back in shock and Priya did a quick one-eighty, heading for the aft part of the yacht. The man she’d struck rushed after her, grabbing her chair from behind just as she made it to the aft stairwell.

Priya threw herself off the chair and down the stairs, crashing onto the landing and rolling. She crawled down the next flight, this time rolling on her shoulder and tumbling like a gymnast.

She was on the middle deck now. She heard the broad-shouldered, bearded man curse and throw her chair aside before lumbering down the stairs.

Her only hope was to get to the water. She pushed open the first door she came to and crawled into one of the cabins. Across the room was a balcony. Beyond that was the water.

She crawled to the door, slid it open and crawled through. She was two feet from the rail when the man rushed, grabbed her by the ankles and pulled her back. Her chin hit the floor and she lost her grip on the laptop.

“You squirm like a salamander,” he said. “Do you really think you’re going to get away?”

Escape was too much to hope for now. All she wanted to do was toss the laptop overboard so they couldn’t hack into it.

As the broad-shouldered, bearded man stood over her, two other men arrived. “The other cabins are empty,” one of them said. “There’s no one else aboard.”