Page 134 of Deep Tide

“We’re stopping.”

“Why?”

“Coast Guard’s orders.”

Sean turned east, where a Coast Guard cutter carrying the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team lurked in the darkness. Sean couldn’t see them. Like this boat, they were operating without running lights, attempting a stealth approach. But Sean knew they were there.

The boat lurched down, then up again, and Sean grabbed the railing. The swells out here were bigger than this police boat was designed to handle.

Sean peered through the binoculars, scanning the surface of the rig. It was a two-level structure, with pipes and ducts and scaffolding everywhere. The helo pad was on the south side, out of view, but Gagnon’s bird was still there, according to the Coast Guard drone. So, they were assuming Gagnon was still there, too.

And Leyla.

Sean’s lungs constricted as he scanned the deck under the floodlights, looking for any sign of her.

Owen was on his phone now. He exchanged words with Joel and then the boat was moving again.

“We’re positioning closer,” Joel yelled.

Good.

Sean trained his binoculars on the massive platform as Joel made a wide arc, coming around to the south side.

Owen walked over, catching himself on the railing as the boat hit a bump. In chop like this, it wouldn’t take much to go overboard, and everyone wore red life jackets equipped with lights and whistles.

“They’re getting a drop right now,” Owen said.

“The rig is?” Sean aimed the binoculars, but it was impossible to focus in the bumpy water. He lowered the binoculars and looked at Owen. “How do you know?”

“Coasties said there’s a black helo hovering on the other side.”

Sean squinted into the night sky. As they neared the rig, he heard the distant sound of rotor blades.

Was this the “drop” of Gagnon’s shipment of devices? The real one, not the decoy?

Maybe.

But Sean didn’t care. The only thing that mattered right now was locating Leyla on that giant rig.

The boat arced around, and the yellow helicopter came into view.

Sean’s gut tightened. Gagnon was still there. Which meant Leyla was, too.

He hoped.

And prayed.

Sean’s stomach clenched as the police boat got closer and closer. He peered through the binoculars, desperate to find her. Men in jeans and hard hats walked around—rig workers, maybe, or people who worked for Gagnon. But no Luc Gagnon.

And no Leyla.

“See anything?” Owen asked beside him.

“No.”

Sean could barely see Owen’s face in the darkness, but his voice was thick with tension.

“These HRT guys, you know them?” Owen asked.

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