Crash Course, Derek Fee [highly illogical behavior .txt] 📗

three miles. He glanced over his shoulder at the Uzi pointing between his shoulder blades.

Jaime steadied himself as the boat bucked in the swell forcing him to switch his weight rapidly from one foot to the other to keep his balance. They were nearly home. Just a few more miles and they would be safely away. Then he would be free to deal with Kane.

It was time to act. Kane tilted the speedboat directly into a wave hoping for the maximum amount of lift. The prow of the boat rose clean out of the water causing Jaime to totter backwards onto the sodden afterdeck. As the hull hit the water, Kane pulled the wheel hard to port causing the boat to lurch sideways suddenly. Jaime hit the aft rail of the boat when the hull of the boat smacked against the sea. Kane’s manoeuvre caused him to slip sideways towards the edge of the rail. Suddenly the realisation came over him that the manoeuvre had been intended for him. He struggled to get his balance and bring the Uzi into line at the same time. In that instant, Kane swung the wheel to starboard and a burst of machine-gun fire flew directly upwards as Jaime was thrown backwards and over the aft rail. Kane immediately straightened up the boat and made away at top speed from the spot where Jaime had fallen overboard. If the Colombian was lucky, the Spanish patrol boat would pick him up. If he wasn’t, the sharks would breakfast well. He hoped the sharks would win.

“Esses hombres estan rompiendo las bolas” Silva shot to his feet. The blip on the radar screen was changing direction rapidly. “What the hell are they up to?” he said to the helmsman.

The young sailor shrugged his shoulders.

The blip on the radar screen had settled back onto a course which ran directly for the Rias Bajas. Silva pulled out the detailed charts of the region. He didn’t really need to examine them. He knew every inch of the bays and inlets ahead. Once the smugglers hit the Isla Sálvora at the mouth of the Ría de Arousa they would be lost in the creeks which dug into the sides of the green Galician hills. He turned and looked at the screen. The bastard was almost there.

Kane felt an adrenaline rush as the speedboat powered through the swell towards the Isla Sálvora He was entering the more sheltered coastal waters and the twin engines screamed as he pushed them to the limit. Once inside the mouth of the Ría de Arousa, he would be relatively safe. He glanced at the radar screen. His pursuer was no longer gaining; he would reach the safety of the coast before he would be sighted. The first part of his plan had already succeeded. He had managed to get rid of Jaime and he now had possession of the cocaine. But there were still the two men waiting on the quay at Rianxo.

“Mierda!” Silva scattered the charts from the table. The radar screen showed the speedboat passing the Isla Sálvora and entering the Ría de Arousa. The blip disappeared, the chase was over and Silva had lost. The young Spaniard slumped in his chair. It had been a long night and despite his patience, his fish had escaped. The Ría de Arousa was full of small bays and inlets where a speedboat could hide while the scum unloaded their evil cargo. There would be another day when the fish would not evade him. Silva closed his eyes and gave the helmsman the order to change course to port. He would report the incident to his superiors with the recommendation that next time they employ more resources. Perhaps if there had been a sister ship closer to the coast, they could have run them to ground. But the cost, Silva, he could hear his captain say. The Spanish Navy was not made of money. But the drug smugglers were.

The Santo Cristobel pulled to port without anyone seeing the waving of Jaime’s outstretched arms.

It was past four o’clock in the morning when Kane steered into the channel leading to the port of Rianxo. The white-washed houses of the little village were dark shadows. He made for the fine sandy beaches which surrounded the village before turning into the port. There was no sign of movement. The village of Rianxo slept.

The white BMW was parked at the end of the causeway which constituted one side of the marina. Kane throttled back as the boat eased over the blue waters of the little harbour. The doors of the BMW opened and the two guards moved out onto the concrete causeway to meet the incoming craft. He pointed the craft towards the marina making sure to skirt the small rocky outcrops which lined the inside of the causeway. Ahead on the quay at Rianxo, the two guards stood waiting. Kane sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he approached the quay.

“Donde est Jaime?” the larger of the two men said as they advanced.

Kane didn’t understand Spanish but he assumed that the men were asking after the whereabouts of their Colombian counterpart. He tossed the forward and aft lines to the two men and proceeded to act out an expressive mime whereby Jaime went overboard during a chase with a Spanish Navy patrol boat. The two men tied up the boat looking sceptically at one another. Kane’s return alone definitely hadn’t been part of the plan and, as he’d anticipated, the change of plan had thrown the hired help into confusion. He jumped agilely ashore. Neither guard was brandishing a weapon. Their arsenal was probably still in the BMW. It wouldn’t take them long to tumble that something was badly amiss so it was important for him to act quickly. As soon as the speedboat was securely fastened, the two men exchanged a glance and returned to where he was standing.

Kane sucked in a deep breath of tangy sea air.