It was a burst of machine-gun fire that told Jack it was time to let go of Razak’s limp body. Oskar had now grabbed the front of the tender and was pulling it to one side to get a better shot at Jack.

Jack’s plan to climb in the tender was no longer an option, so he spun around and dived back into the ocean.

As he swam underwater he expected to see or hear the zing of bullets in the water around him … or worse yet, to feel them enter his body, but he didn’t. When his lungs once more craved air, he cautiously stuck his head out of the water.

Razak’s body was still hanging over the back of the tender, but when he had been hauled over the back, it had caused the tender to change direction. It was now headed parallel to the beach and being chased by Oskar, who was holding his automatic rifle above the waves while trying to catch up to it.

Jack became conscious of the gash across his shin. I’ve heard sharks can smell a drop of blood up to a quarter of a mile …

A squawk from a walkie-talkie caught his attention and he saw that Barfoot was standing on the beach a short distance away with another automatic rifle. Jack heard him radioing Pike and telling him to raise the anchor and move closer to shore, as they may have to swim.

Jack glanced back at the tender as it hit a wave and saw Razak’s body bounce like a rag doll as it hung off the back. The wave caused the tender to change direction again and it headed closer to shore.

Jack heard Barfoot stop mid-sentence and he realized he had been spotted. He took a gulp of air and dived again. Phosphorescent darts of light streaking past him announced that he was being fired upon and he swam deeper and faster than he ever knew he could.

If I live, what do I do? Watch while they go murder the people on that boat and escape? Christ, I need air again …

Chapter Forty-Four

Barfoot emptied his magazine, then lowered his weapon. “Khalid! Where the hell are you?” he screamed.

Not getting an answer, Barfoot cursed to himself, then picked up the duffel bag containing the weapons and plodded down the beach toward Oskar, who had managed to grab hold of the tender and shut off the engine.

A short distance down the beach, Barfoot found Khalid’s body laying at the ocean’s edge. Farther down the beach he saw that Oskar had dragged the tender ashore and was pulling Razak’s body back inside.

“Oskar!” he yelled. “Haul that thing over here. I found Khalid. I need the light.”

Moments later, Barfoot and Oskar both bent over Khalid who was now illuminated from the spotlight on the tender.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Oskar. “He’s still breathing. He isn’t dead.” Oskar shook Khalid by the shoulder, but there was no response.

Barfoot opened Khalid’s eyelids and saw that one eye had haemorrhaged, turning red.

“What the hell did he do to him?” muttered Barfoot. “He must have hit him on the head with something, but I don’t see any head wounds.

Oskar glanced out at the ocean. “Who the hell is that guy? First Rabbit, then Razak and now Khalid. He isn’t some ordinary chump with asthma who —”

“Razak?” replied Barfoot. “I thought you shot him by mistake when they were fighting behind the tender.”

“No way! I aimed high on purpose so I wouldn’t hit Razak by mistake. I thought Jack would surrender. It wasn’t me who killed him. When the tender took off, I saw Razak hanging off the back. I thought maybe he was just knocked out and chased after him so he wouldn’t drown.”

“He drowned?”

“Hell, no, he didn’t drown. Let me show you.”

Oskar and Barfoot leaned inside the tender and rolled Razak over onto his back.

“See?” said Oskar. “His face is practically missing. Christ, look at his neck! His head is almost cut off! I didn’t do that.”

“You’re right,” growled Barfoot. “Who the hell did you really hire?”

“I don’t know. I did it on your advice,” grumbled Oskar.

“I figured the guy was smart and would handle the legit stuff well.”

“I thought he was a wimp, but look what he did to Razak.”

“Yeah, I see that.” Barfoot shook his head and looked around, then gestured to Razak’s body. “Don’t know why you hauled him inside. He’s no good to us, except as crab bait. Dump him out and we’ll put Khalid in there. Maybe he’ll come around.”

Minutes later, they loaded Khalid into the tender and Barfoot glanced out at the Malaysian Princess. The yacht was slowly moving parallel to the beach and Pike was in the wheelhouse, using a spotlight mounted on the roof above him to scan the waters.

“Jesus Christ!” screamed Barfoot. “There he is!” he yelled, while grabbing his walkie-talkie.

Jack had quietly hauled himself up onto the swim grid on the back of the Malaysian Princess. The yacht was lit up like a small city, but he saw that Barfoot and Oskar were busy loading Khalid onto the tender, so he climbed on board and crouched down. From the spotlight scanning the water, he knew Pike was in the wheelhouse.

Is Pike packing a gun? With his training, he wouldn’t need one if he gets his hands on me …

Jack’s new plan relied on the element of surprise: bash Pike on the head from behind, without giving him a chance to either fight or draw a weapon, then use the yacht’s radio to send out a warning and call for the authorities to help him.

He opened up the small plastic toolbox that Pike had used earlier to fix his reel and looked inside.

Goddamn it! What good is a toolbox without a hammer?

Seconds later, Jack ran toward the first stairwell, leading up to the main deck.

Jack heard Barfoot’s excited voice blast out over the walkie-talkie Pike had with him in the wheelhouse.

“Jack is on the Princess behind you!”

Oh, shit…

“Repeat,” he heard Pike yell. “Did you say he is on the boat? Or behind it?”

Jack raced up the first stairwell, but before he could take the second one to the wheelhouse, he heard Pike’s footsteps above him running toward the top of the stairwell.

Jack stepped through the door leading into the main deck and ducked behind a lounge chair. If Pike entered, he would make another attempt at a surprise attack.

Knowing Pike’s training, I’ve probably got about a snowball’s chance in hell …

Seconds later, he saw Pike run past the doorway and heard him slip and partially fall as he clamoured down the steep stairwell to the lower deck. The stairs were not much different than a ladder, but plastic sides prevented Pike from falling completely and he grunted and continued on.

Jack quickly took the opportunity to go back out and climb up to the wheelhouse.

“Did you see where he went?” Pike screamed into the walkie-talkie from below.

Barfoot’s reply was interrupted with static and the sound of the engine from the tender.

“Can’t copy!” yelled Pike. “You’re broken. Go again. Did he go inside the lower deck?”

“Negative! Negative! He got past you. He’s in the wheelhouse!”

Jack looked at the control panel and saw a microphone. He knew he wouldn’t have time to explain his location and get a message out before Pike returned. He saw a row of switches marked LIGHTS and turned them off. The wheelhouse plunged into darkness, as well as the yacht’s running lights and all exterior lights.

Pike had already reached the top of the first stairwell and screamed up at him. “You think you can fuck with me you wimpy little bastard! The dark ain’t gonna save ya!”

Jack heard the sound of Pike’s feet pounding across the main deck to the second stairwell. This won’t be pretty …

Jack lay on his belly and squirmed over to the top of the stairwell and waited.