Postcard from Hell by Michael Kilian

Author:Michael Kilian
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781504020138
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road

Chapter 17

By the time Andy reached the skiff, Glory had the line free and the outboard running. She slammed it into gear with Andy still half hanging over the side, reaching to grab him by the belt and haul him in. Somehow, he still had the little pistol in his hand.

“Hang on!” she said.

He’d thought she’d head directly away from the yacht, but she was too clever for that. Not wanting to give their angry enemies a clear shot, she roared along the side of the hull toward the stern, sheltered somewhat by its curve and catching the crew by surprise. They heard shouting and running but no more gunshots, at least not until they had careened past the stern and were weaving in zigs and zags over the open water.

The way Glory was soaring and slamming the little boat over and into the swells, their feet were already aslosh in seawater. A hole in the bottom would take them down fast. Nothing came near them.

Andy looked behind them. The cigarette boat had been summoned into action but had headed for the yacht’s bow. Informed of the skiff’s westward course by those on the yacht, the cigarette’s helmsman came about with a great swoosh of wake but had to complete a wide arc because of his craft’s great length. Once the boat was pointed directly toward them, the helmsman dug the stern into the water and made up his lost time fast.

Glory heeled them over nearly on their side as she turned their bow toward the coast.

“I’m heading for the reef!” she said.

“I see that! We could smash up there!”

“Right! Tide’s still low! But I don’t want to go near Toby and Joey!”

Andy looked west again. The houseboat was still brightly visible, if no longer audible, but far enough away to seem uninvolved in the action. The riding lights of other boats, probably fishing craft, dotted the dark waters just beyond. In a few minutes, Toby and Joey would be well among them.

“Is there a break in the reef here?” Andy asked.

“Only at Rum Point.”

She was steering directly for the reef—at top speed.

“Glory!!!”

“Do shut up!”

The cigarette boat was bearing down on them, whomping and planing and throwing up spray in spewing cataracts. It was bouncing too much to afford anyone aboard a clear shot at them, but apparently its crew had something just as lethal planned: They were going to run them down.

Glory was apparently aware of that. It suddenly dawned on Andy what she had in mind. She was going to lead the cigarette onto the reef at full tilt, hoping to dart the more nimble skiff away at the last second.

It almost worked, but the cigarette’s skipper was smart enough to see it. With deep water to spare, he stood his sleek craft on its tail, spinning it off to port. Glory had flipped the skiff around to starboard, but they got caught in the bigger boat’s rooster tail of seawater.

“What now?” he shouted, wiping off his face with his arm.

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