The Burning Chase by Cap Daniels

Author:Cap Daniels [Daniels, Cap]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Anchor Watch Publishing, L.L.C.
Published: 2020-09-29T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Manhunt

I brought the Microbus to a stop beside the gazebo and leapt from the seat. I threw open the side door and pulled a Heckler & Koch MP5 9mm submachine gun from beneath the seat. Unlike Hunter, I wasn’t going in the water. Whoever the trespasser was had an enormous head start, and I had a much better chance of catching him with a barrage of 9mm rounds than with my breaststroke.

I made it to the end of the dock in fifteen sprinting strides. The white foaming splashes of the pursuit shone on the surface of the black water like moonlight on lingering snow. I pulled the MP5 to my shoulder and sighted down the short barrel. Hunter was directly in line between my muzzle and the perp. If I pulled the trigger, I had a greater chance of clipping my partner than hitting the fleeing man.

I pulled the muzzle a few degrees left and buried the trigger. A barrage of water-splitting lead peppered the surface of the river three feet to the swimmer’s left. Any sane human would surrender and face the perils of capture rather than continue swimming in the assurance of the next volley of fire falling on his back, but the swimmer only intensified his strokes.

He was headed for the marsh grass, a tall, dense, broadleaf grass that thrives in the brackish water of the river. The density of the grass made it nearly impassible for anything short of an airboat at full speed. There was no question that as soon as the swimmer hit the grass, Hunter would be on him in seconds. Not only was Hunter the best swimmer on the team, but his endurance was second to none. When he did catch the man, he wouldn’t be winded, and he’d be more than ready for a fight.

To my surprise, when the man hit the marsh grass, he stayed low – too low for me to get off an effective shot—but he didn’t stop. He powered onward, parting the grass in long powerful sweeps of his arms.

Thundering footsteps sounded from the floating dock behind me, and Singer thudded to a stop at my side. “Where is he?”

I motioned toward the disturbance in the marsh grass. “That’s him. Hunter’s on him.”

Singer shot a look toward my catamaran. “I need a rifle.”

I handed him the MP5 and started for Aegis.

“This isn’t a rifle,” he protested.

“It’ll have to do for now. I’ll be right back!”

I shoved my key into the lock on the companionway and slammed open the sliding hatch. The clamps holding the 308 sniper rifle into the locker clicked and surrendered the weapon into my hands. As I rushed back to the cockpit, Singer was climbing the ladder to the upper deck. I tossed the rifle toward him, and he caught it without missing a stride. I followed him up the ladder as he took up a prone position on the deck, sighting out across the river.

The sound of an engine twisting to life

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