Page 89 of Max's Mission

“There!” Marchand pointed ahead and to the right. “What’s that?”

Max spun around, spotting a speeding boat in front of them. “Get the binoculars.” He nodded toward the compartment below the dash, between the front seats.

Audra crouched beside him and rummaged inside, coming out with the specs. Sam held her steady while she aimed them at the white boat in the distance.

“It’s them.” She lowered the binoculars. “Tad’s sitting on the bridge holding Em. Berry’s driving.”

“Did you see anyone else?” Sam asked.

“No.”

Max glanced back, looking for Ford again. There were several boats behind them now, but he couldn’t tell which one—if any—was Ford. He picked up the radio mic. “Ford, we’ve spotted them.” He read the heading off his instruments.

“Copy. On your tail,” came Ford’s reply.

Satisfied they had backup on the way, Max focused on driving. The speedboat rapidly closed the gap with Berry’s vessel, and soon, they were within a hundred yards.

He throttled back. “We need a plan. Are any of you armed?” He was betting they all were. He was and had been since the morning after they returned to Costa Rica.

Marchand lifted a hand. Sam and Audra shared a look, then they nodded.

A muffled crack sounded over the roar of the speedboat’s engine. Water sprayed up just ahead as the round Berry shot hit the water.

They’d been noticed.

“If you get us closer, I can take a shot.” Marchand moved forward to stand beside Max. “We’re too far back, going too fast. I don’t want to hit Gaultier or the girl.”

Max ran the risks in his head. Yes, they were faster, but Berry had a better vantage point. The closer they got, the harder it would be to see him up on the bridge. They were also sitting ducks in this boat. It offered some cover if they crouched down, but not enough. He would need to do some fancy maneuvering.

“Everybody get down and hang on.” Max hunched, hoping he was low enough, then opened the throttles up some again.

Swiftly, they closed the gap. More shots rang out, and he began weaving behind Berry’s vessel.

“Pull up alongside him.” Marchand duck-walked to the edge of the dash to Max’s left.

Cutting hard to the right, Max throttled up further, bringing them along the boat’s port side.

Gunshots pinged off the hull.

Marchand let out a yelp and fell back.

“He’s been shot!” Sam crawled forward, pulling the marshal out of the open.

“How bad?” Max glanced back.

“I’ll live.” Marchand sat up. “But he hit my shooting arm.”

Audra moved up to get the med kit from the same cabinet where she found the binoculars.

Anger roiled in Max’s gut. They needed to get on board.

But not from this side.

He pulled back on the throttle and swung behind the boat, then sped up to come up along the other side.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked.

“Come up here.”

---