Valley of the Templars

31

The Zhuk-class patrol boat appeared on the aft horizon approximately five hours after the Corazon de Leon had left the lobster grounds around the wreck of the SS San Pasqual. By Geraldo’s calculations they had been traveling at an average speed of twelve knots per hour, which put them sixty miles from the wreck and well outside Cuban territorial waters.

“How far?” Holliday asked Eddie, who was staring at the distant shape of the old-style patrol boat.

“Fifteen miles, maybe a little more,” replied Holliday’s friend. “Perhaps twenty.”

“How long?”

“It is hard to say, mi compadre. The Zhuk was rated at thirty knots maximum speed, but that was when they were new. The Cuban boats are from the ’seventies. I doubt that they can maintain twenty knots now, if that.”

“What can Geraldo give us?”

“No more than fifteen.”

“That means they’ll gain five miles each hour.” It was three in the afternoon; the patrol boat would be within range by seven in the evening-just about sunset at this time of the year-but it wouldn’t be fully dark until eight thirty or nine. They barely had a chance of getting away in the dark.

Looking to the other horizon, they could all see that dark storm clouds were gathering, high, bruised-looking thunderheads.

“Tell Geraldo to pour it on and tell him to pray for rain. It’s our only chance. Now.”