“The captain gave me some trouble, at first.”
Pablo shook his head and frowned. “Get the crate aboard. Now!”
The new gunman meekly joined the other two in hoisting the box recovered from the Cuttlefish and placing it on their boat. Gunn suddenly thought of Ann and realized she wasn’t on deck.
The leader of the assault team turned to Gunn, waving his Glock. “Do not follow us or call for help or we shall return and kill you all.” Pablo smiled at Gunn, his dark eyes glistening. “Thank you for your assistance.” He stepped to the rail without looking back and climbed onto his boat.
Pitt and Giordino were forced to watch the drama from the confines of the submersible. Though they could have exited the sub’s hatch, they would have had a precarious leap to get aboard the Drake. Before they could act, it was all over.
Watching Pablo step over the rail, Pitt detected a movement at the forward part of the ship. He turned to Al. “Did you see something go off the side, near the bridge?”
“No,” Giordino said. “I was keeping tabs on the guy who pulled the gun on Rudi.”
They watched as Pablo boarded the powerboat and it pulled away from the Drake. But as it turned and sped toward shore, they caught a glimpse of its opposite deck in the fading light.
Giordino poked a finger at the view port. “Is that what I think it is?”
Pitt had seen it too and he nodded.
It was the outstretched figure of a drenched blond woman, hiding on the narrow side deck of the boat as it thundered toward Mexico.
14
GUNN WASTED NO IN TIME HOISTING THE SUBMERSIBLE aboard as Pitt and Giordino waited at the open hatch.
“Is everyone all right?” Pitt asked.
“No one was hurt,” Gunn replied. “They threatened to kill us if we call for help or pursue them.”
“Who were they?” Giordino asked.
Gunn shook his head. “I have no clue. The leader was called Pablo. They came for that box you guys lifted from the Cuttlefish. Any idea what was in it?”
“No,” Pitt said, “but I think Ann does. How did she get aboard their boat?”
“Ann? I thought she was in her cabin.”
“We saw her hiding beside the wheelhouse of their boat as it stormed away,” Giordino said.
Gunn turned pale. “They may kill her if they catch her.”
“Call the Coast Guard,” Pitt said. “Maybe they have a drug interdiction patrol boat nearby. But don’t say anything about Ann, in case they’re listening in. Al and I will try and track them in the inflatable.”
“Not going to happen,” Gunn said. “They shot up the bridge radio and the inflatable. We’ve got some handheld radios I can make the call with, but you’re out of luck with the RIB.”
“What about the barge?” Giordino said.
“First we better check out the pilot. I think they may have roughed him up.”
“Rudi, you go make the call,” Pitt said. “Al and I will check the barge.”
Pitt and Giordino ran to the stern rail. The bow of the barge was pressing alongside just below the deck, the older vessel pushing the research ship at a turtle’s pace. They jumped aboard and sprinted the length of its oily deck to the small wheelhouse at the stern. They heard a dog growl as they approached and stepped inside.
A gray-haired man knelt by the helm, holding his palm against a bloody gash along his hairline. A black-and-tan dachshund stood guard
in front of him and barked at the intruders.
“Hush, Mauser,” the man said.