The Last Family

60

Martin dropped the transceiver to the floor of the cockpit. The rain stopped suddenly, and the lake to the south opened up to him. He reached down to the console and turned on the tape player. The large speakers that were mounted on the deck, designed for people’s entertainment while they sailed or sunbathed, filled the air with an orchestral rendition of “Danny Boy.” In the distance the giant Sikorsky was hovering. Below it, in the circle of spotlight, there was a strange craft, a speedboat. The chopper was raising its basket. Inside was a prone body, which Martin assumed was Woody Poole’s, and the boy, Reb, was seated in there as well.

His heart soared and he checked to make sure the engine was operating at maximum power. Then he laughed and squeezed the detonator. He could arrive before the cot was back in the belly of the helicopter. Maybe he could take out the boat and the helicopter! If it remained anywhere near where it was, it was as good as down in flames. The boy and Woody might be killed even if they managed to swing away to run for it.

Martin felt the button, knowing that when he let go, the Semtex would turn the lake for a hundred yards around into vapor. As he watched, an orange-and-white Cigarette boat broke from the curtain of rain and turned to intercept him. He stared in disbelief as the boat closed. He saw someone in a white uniform fling himself off the side and into the spray.

“Fuck you!” he yelled. The boat was moving at a seemingly impossible speed. It was a bluff. No two-hundred-dollar-a-month swabbie would ram him. He laughed, and blood ran from his open mouth.

As the Cigarette boat closed, he realized that the pilot was Rainey Lee, and that he was screaming something Martin couldn’t make out, though he imagined what the gist of it would be.

As Rainey corrected the long boat’s course to slam into the side of the Shadowfax, Martin released the button and closed his eyes for the short wait, cursing his luck.