The Last Guardian (Clayton White) by Simon Gervais

Author:Simon Gervais [Gervais, Simon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2023-10-09T16:00:00+00:00

The light chop was hardly noticeable as the Axopar sliced through the two- to three-foot waves like a much bigger boat, with no pounding whatsoever. Wanting to keep as low a profile as he could, Miller had turned off the vessel’s navigation and running lights as well as the two multifunction displays. He knew the area well, and he didn’t need the GPS to get to where he was going. At this time of night, there would be no police or Royal Navy vessels on duty, so the odds of being picked up by a thermal-imaging sweep were minimal. At the speed they were traveling, it didn’t take long to reach the edge of Tortola—the largest and most populated of the British Virgin Islands. Miller cut the Axopar’s speed by half as he tried to pinpoint the entry to the narrow channel he was looking for. Using the island’s topology as his guide, Miller steered the boat carefully. Wanting to diminish the speed further, Miller reached for the throttles, but the woman already had her hands on them. She brought the throttles to neutral, then shut the engines down before taking two steps back.

A gun was in her hand, and it was pointed at his chest. He glanced over his shoulder. The assailant was there, but he had taken a position that would keep him out of the woman’s line of fire. Miller was happy to see that the man’s sidearm was still holstered.

Miller shook his head. “What are you doing? The current will drive us onto the rocks.”

“Then I suggest you answer my questions rapidly,” she replied.

This wasn’t a surprise. Miller had known this was coming. It was totally understandable. The only surprise was that it had taken her so long to stop the boat. Miller would have done it much sooner.

“Okay. Shoot,” Miller said. “Your questions, I mean. Not the gun.”

His attempt at humor fell flat. He’d have to work harder on his stand-up skills.

“What’s your name?”

“Ian Miller. At your service.”

“Why did you head east instead of west? The instructions were to travel west toward the Dominican Republic.”

“That was before you got into a gunfight half of the freaking island heard,” Miller said. “But clearly this wasn’t enough fireworks for you, was it? You had to blow a police chopper out of the sky. For God’s sake! Do you really think we could have made it to the Dominican Republic? There’s no way we could have made it past Puerto Rico, and that’s if we were lucky. Odds were, we would have been intercepted, and sunk, way before we even made it to international waters.”

“What happened back there?”

“Where? What do you mean by back there? Can you be more precise?” he asked nonchalantly, as if having a gun pointed at him was no big deal. Which wasn’t entirely accurate.

She looked at him, seemingly puzzled that he had replied with a question of his own.

“What happened at the Westin?”

“Someone screwed up, that’s for sure,” he said.

“I think you’re the one who screwed up.

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