She knew he was thinking about the inflatables out on those seas. He was the master of the vessel. He was responsible for all the people on board. Campaign or no, they wouldn’t get into the water unless or until he said they could. “The more we’re in their face, the more time they waste dealing with us. The more time they waste on us, the less time they spend fishing. The less time they spend fishing, it’s just that much less sea bottom they’re ripping up.”

“And it goes without saying that heavy seas make for good film at eleven.”

He was just snide enough to make her smile. “That it does.”

“So what’s our next target?”

She pulled a list from her shirt pocket and consulted it. “The Agafia. Panamanian-owned, Niue-flagged, Russian-leased. A killing machine. A three-hundred-and-forty-foot killing machine.”

JANUARY

CAPTAIN ON THE BRIDGE.“

Captain Lowe climbed up into his chair. “Report.” “We’ve got the fishing vessel Lee Side off our starboard bow, sir. She’s a hundred-and-eighty-foot longliner working p-cod.” Sara nodded at Ops, who was talking on the radio. “Their first mate just called and said their skipper has gone berserk.”

“Berserk?” the captain said. “Berserk how?”

“They say he has armed himself and is chasing the crew around, threatening to shoot them.”

The captain digested this in silence.

“The crew is asking us to board and take the captain into custody,” Sara said.

“With what is their captain armed?” Captain Lowe said.

“They say an automatic pistol, sir,” Ops said.

“Has he fired it?”

“The mate says not yet, sir,” Ops said, and broke off when an excited voice came on the air.

“Coast Guard, Coast Guard, he’s shooting at us, I repeat, he’s shooting at us!”

Everyone peered through the windows as the Lee Side vanished into the bottom of a swell and then materialized again at the top of another.

“He’s not going to hit anything in these seas,” the captain said, not noticeably excited at the prospect one way or another.

“We’ve got a monster of a low blowing in from the southeast,” Sara said, clinging to a hatch handle. “It’s only going to get worse, sir.”

The captain nodded. “Prepare to launch a boarding team. I want Ensign Ryan to lead it.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Sara said. She nodded at the chief, and he made the pipe.

Five minutes later the VHF radio came to life again. This time it was a different voice, much calmer. “U.S. Coast Guard cutter, U.S. Coast Guard cutter, this is the fishing vessel Terra Dawn, mayday, mayday, mayday.”

Ops keyed the mike. “Fishing vessel Terra Dawn, this is cutter Sojourner Truth, go ahead.”

“Coast Guard, we are taking water and we’re down by the stern.”

“Terra Dawn, cutter Sojourner Truth, copy that, you’re taking water and going down by the stern. Give us your lat and long.”

The Terra Dawn’s skipper read out the lat and long numbers in a clear, calm voice, and Sara went to the radar console and looked over Tommy Penn’s shoulder. “Got him, Tommy?”

“Got him, XO,” Penn said, rolling the cursor across the screen to a green X off the south shore of St. George Island.

“Set a course,” the captain said, “all ahead full.”

“All ahead full, aye,” the helmsman said.

“Terra Dawn, cutter Sojourner Truth, we are en route, I say again, we are en route.”

“Yeah, Coast Guard, you’re not going to get here in time. I’m ordering the crew into survival suits and launching the life rafts.”

Everyone looked at the almost black horizon. “Anyone else out there close enough to get to them before they go in?”

Tommy scrolled back and forth on the radar screen. “No, Captain, it looks like everyone else is up here with us.”

Tommy was right; everywhere she looked, Sara could see the lights of at least six other vessels appearing and disappearing as they and the Sojourner Truth wallowed through the heavy seas. The Lee Side was beginning to fall perceptibly aft as all four engines came on line and thrust the Sojourner Truth forward through the waves breaking across her bow.

“Must have been hot on the cod,” the chief said in a low voice.

Sara nodded. “Hard to walk away from that kind of money, no matter if you are staring down the throat of a hurricane.” She should know. Her father had risked ship and crew too many times to count in pursuit of the almighty king crab. The only difference between him and the skipper of the Terra Dawn was he had been lucky as well as smart.

The aviators arrived on the bridge, as usual looking ready to argue their way into the air. As usual the captain heard them out with a taciturn expression. “I see no need to launch, gentlemen, especially not in these seas. The Terra Dawn’s captain seems to have things well in hand. The crew is in survival suits, the captain is launching the life rafts. We have a fix on their position. They should be safe enough until we get there.”

Lieutenants Laird and Sams looked frustrated.

“Coast Guard, this is Terra Dawn,” their skipper said on the radio, sounding as if he were trying to stifle a yawn. “Our deck is awash. She’s going down. We are abandoning ship.”

“Gosh, he’s real excited, isn’t he,” Chief Edelen said to Sara in a low voice.

Sara nodded. She’d been wondering what the Terra Dawn’s skipper had been smoking herself. The handheld crackled into life. “Boarding team ready to launch, Captain.”

“Thank you, XO. Let’s give them a lee, Chief.”

“Aye aye, Captain. Helm, come to course heading one-eight-zero.”

“One-eight-zero, aye.”

The cutter took the change of course with attitude, rolling heavily into the trough of a swell, heeling to starboard, and then rolling to port down the opposite side. She nosed through the wind and steadied.

“XO?” Even over the handheld Ryan’s voice betrayed his youth and excitement. Sara couldn’t blame him, she could only envy him.

“Ensign, your orders are to disarm and detain the captain and remain on board the Lee Side until we return. Understood?”

“Understood, XO,” Ryan said.

“What arms are you carrying?”

“Sidearms and shotguns, XO.”

“Good. Don’t shoot if you don’t have to, but don’t get shot, either.”

“Understood, XO,” Ryan repeated, much more soberly this time.

Sara looked at the captain. He got out of his chair and walked to the hatch leading onto the port wing and stepped into the wind. “Launch when ready,” Sara said into the mike.

“Aye aye, XO, launching,” Ryan said, and Sara followed the captain out onto the wing. They stood in silence because to speak would have necessitated screaming above the wind, and they held on like grim death to the railing because otherwise the Sojourner Truth would have tossed them into the inflatable casting off below. The coxswain hit the throttle-all coxswains were speed demons; Sara thought it must be in the job description-and the small boat powered up and in spite of the heavy seas fell smoothly off the side of the ship and into a curving course toward the Lee Side.

“Who’s the coxswain?” the captain said.

“PO Mathis, sir,” Sara said.

The captain watched the small boat maneuver up a swell and down its backside and tackle the next without hesitation. The wind paused long enough for them to hear the sound of the engine throttling up and back and up again. “Nicely done,” the captain said.

“Yes, sir,” Sara said in complete agreement. The Sojourner Truth was lucky in its boat handlers. Coxswain Duane Mathis was as good as the chief in that respect. She watched the small boat labor up another wave. That was one hell of a boat ride she was missing out on.