The Lance

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

"You might have a concussion." Nick held up three fingers. "How many?"

"Three."

"Good answer." Nick peered into his eyes. Both pupils were the same size.

"I think you're good. But pay attention, will you?"

"I'm fine Nick. It's just a bump on the head."

Selena had changed into sweats and jacket and was sitting near the stern, watching the wake trail out behind.

Lamont walked to the stern and sat down next to her. He looked out over the water, then down at the deck.

"When I was a kid, I almost drowned."

Selena waited.

"It was a hot summer day. I was eight years old. My mom took me to the city park, to the pool. It was mobbed. Everyone was running around, rough housing, splashing each other. You know how kids are."

"Sure."

"There was this long line for the diving board. The water was twelve feet at the deep end and kids were piling off the board, one right after another. I got on the board, ran to the end and jumped. A big kid jumped in right behind and kicked me in the head. It knocked me out and I went right to the bottom. When I came to I was breathing water. Then everything got kind of peaceful and I started drifting down there, on the bottom of the pool."

Lamont looked out over the South Atlantic.

"I remember the paint on the bottom was blue and it was all chipped and cracked and there was this Baby Ruth candy wrapper stuck on the drain. It felt easy. I wasn't struggling or choking, just drifting in the water. Then someone grabbed me and pulled me out and dumped me on the cement by the pool. I never saw who it was, only a pair of feet walking away. Then my mom was yelling and pounding me on the back and I coughed up water and got sick."

Lamont paused.

"That pipe hitting me down there, it was like when that kid kicked me. I gotta tell you the truth, I wasn't sure about this when we went over the side, about having you down there. You know, Seals — we have our own way of doing things." He looked embarrassed. "Thanks for getting me out."

"You'd have done the same."

"Yeah, but thanks anyway."

In the wheelhouse, Ronnie turned the pouch Lamont had found over in his hands.

"Let's wait until we're back on shore to open it." Nick made a course adjustment.

Ronnie set the pouch down. "Boats heading toward us." He pointed out over the water. The line of cliffs and beaches along the coast was still three or four miles away. Dark, low shapes were coming hard over the waves, throwing water behind them in a wide wake.

Carter scanned them through his binoculars.

"Three speed boats. Big engines. They're in some kind of hurry. Two men in each."

The boats were headed straight for them.

"You call for pizza, Ronnie?"

"Don't think so."

"Break out the weapons." Nick lowered the binoculars.

Selena had come back to the wheelhouse. "How would anyone know what we were doing?" she asked.

"We seem to be asking that question a lot these days. I don't know. But whoever they are, they're coming this way. They're not here for the fishing."

Ronnie lifted MP-5s out of the weapons case. Lamont took one and inserted a 30 round magazine. He tapped the magazine with his hand to make sure it was seated. He racked the bolt and grabbed an ammo belt with five extra magazines.

"Reminds me of the old days," he said. "I carried one of these for years."

Nick moved the throttle forward and turned west. The speedboats altered course.

"No doubt about it. They want to intercept us. They're a lot faster, they'll get here in a few minutes. Ronnie, you and Lamont cover the stern."

Ronnie pulled an Airtronics RPG-7 launcher out of the case. It looked like a ray gun from a pulp science fiction novel. It had an elongated trumpet on one end, a large bulbous section in the middle and a black pistol grip and trigger in the front. He opened a knapsack with five rockets sticking out of it.

"Latest stuff," he said. "Your basic Russian design but made in America with improvements. We're ready to rock and roll. The guys in those boats are in for a little surprise."

"Selena," Nick said. "You position yourself here in the wheelhouse. Don't get behind that launcher. I may have to do some fancy turns and I need you to watch my back. We'll play it by ear until we know for sure they're hostile."

She nodded and loaded her weapon. Cocked and locked and ready to go. She put on her sunglasses and stood calmly in the wind and sun looking out at the approaching boats, legs slightly apart and holding the MP-5 across her chest.

Nick watched her. The sun gleamed off her weapon and framed her hair in a halo of light. She looked like an avenging Amazon from a new, modern myth of war. He felt something clench in his gut. He put it out of his mind.

For the next few minutes nothing happened. The three boats fanned out in a widening arc, angling to come at them from the stern and sides. Nick looked through the binoculars again.

"Armed. Looks like AKs. I guess they're not friendly."

The sides of the boat offered some protection where they rose above the deck. It wasn't much. Ronnie and Lamont crouched behind a large metal fish locker near the stern. The lead boat closed and the passenger lifted his assault rifle and fired. Splinters flew from the fantail.

Ronnie and Lamont opened up. Two of the boats thundered by on each side of the wheelhouse. The roar of their engines blotted out the sound of AK's firing from the cockpits. Nick and Selena ducked.

The wooden frames of the wheelhouse turned to splinters. The windows shattered into a thousand bits of glass.

Selena stood up when the boats had passed and fired after them. Nick gripped the wheel and pushed the throttles to the firewall. Two of the attackers veered off into another turn. The third boat crossed in front and raked the wheelhouse. What little glass that was left disappeared.

Selena waited until it was past, then emptied her magazine. The bullets made a trail of spouts up to the stern of the speeding boat and into the rear. The gas tank exploded. The boat skewed left and stopped. Black smoke roiled skyward as the burning craft sank by the stern. The two men in the boat were screaming, engulfed in flame.

Nick tried to ram one of the pursuers. The boat roared past. Aft, Lamont let off short, steady bursts. Ronnie picked up the launcher.

The two remaining speedboats came in for another run. Bits of wood flew all around. Bullets smacked into the metal locker and whined away. Ronnie knelt with the launcher and fired.

The rocket shot from the tube in a trailing curl of white smoke. It passed over the lead boat and was swallowed in the water beyond.

"Damn," Ronnie said. He loaded another. Selena slammed in another magazine. Lamont was firing. Nick spun the wheel to port and the boat heeled over. Ronnie lost his balance and slid across the deck. He recovered, stood up and zeroed in on one of the boats. This time the rocket went straight in. The boat disintegrated in a billowing black and orange fireball.

The third boat turned and raced for shore.

Ronnie took careful aim and fired another rocket. It streaked toward the last attacker and blew the craft out of the water. A body flew into the air and splashed into the waves. What was left of the boat sank in seconds. As they passed over the spot there was nothing to see but fragments of fiberglass and a slick of burning oil floating on the surface.

Carter throttled down and headed for Mar del Plata. He kept one hand on the helm and looked around. Everything seemed lit with bright light.

The railings of the boat were splintered and broken. The metal fish locker was holed and pocked from multiple hits. The deck was torn up in gouges where rounds had struck or ricocheted. All the glass was shot away from the wheelhouse and it was in bad shape. Only the corner posts still held the roof on.

No one was wounded. That qualified as a minor miracle.

"I don't think the guy that owns this boat is going to be happy," Lamont said. "What do we tell him?"

"Pirates. We tell him pirates." Selena brushed hair away from her forehead. She looked angry.

"Pirates off Argentina?"

"Why not? They seem to be everywhere else. Why not here?"

"We'll compensate him," Nick said. "We'll buy him a new boat. I've got ten grand right here." He patted a money belt strapped around his waist. "Hell, its government money."

"We were lucky." Lamont cleared his MP-5 and placed it back in the case.

"Yeah, Lamont, it's been your lucky day."

They entered the harbor by the southern breakwater, past a tall statue of Christ waiting with open arms to welcome sailors home. It was a comforting sight. They headed for the dock.

A non-descript man in a tan straw hat stood fishing on the end of the pier. He watched the battered red and white boat ease into the dock and a black man jump off and tie her down against the fenders hanging alongside. The fisherman noted the destroyed wheelhouse and bullet-scarred sides. He watched the four people on board begin unloading their gear. The owner of the boat appeared and started shouting and waving his hands in the air.

The fisherman picked up his rod and sauntered past the curious onlookers beginning to gather. When he reached the street he stopped and turned back to look at the scene, then took out a phone and placed a call to Washington.