Sean glanced over her shoulder. “Viggie?”
The girl shyly waved back at him.
Whitfield looked at Horatio and the Formula boat. “What’s this?”
“Friend of ours,” Sean replied. “Come on.” He started to climb in the boat.
“No!” Whitfield exclaimed. “That boat won’t cut it out there. Follow me.”
They all made their way along the shore and boarded the RIB that Whitfield had tethered to a piling sticking out of the water. He had the four lie on the deck and put a tarp over them.
Sean popped his head back out and brandished his gun. “FYI, you try to screw us you get one right in the head.”
The storm had quickly settled in with force; the river was starting to pitch and heave and the rain shot out of the dark skies. Michelle took a moment to pop out from the under the tarp, grab a life jacket and put it on Viggie.
They had not gone far when another boat approached them. From under the tarp Sean heard Whitfield mutter a curse, which he did not take as an encouraging sign. His hand tightened on his gun.
The other boat was far larger than the RIB Whitfield was piloting and there were ten armed men aboard, and someone else.
Sean flinched when he heard the person’s voice: “Where have you been, Ian?” Valerie Messaline said.
“Babbage Town. Looks like someone called the cops.”
“And who might have done that?” the woman said coolly.
“Whoever broke into Camp Peary would be my guess,” Whitfield replied. “But whoever did it doesn’t matter. The cat’s out of the bag. You have to pull out. Now.”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “Why don’t you take some of the men and head down the river in your boat? Whoever breached us might have tried to get away in that direction.”
“No, I think you should take your crew and head to Babbage Town. Looks like our boys will need all the help they can get. I’m going back to Camp Peary and try to do some damage control there.”
While he was speaking Valerie had been looking at his vessel. As she glanced up there was a smile of triumph on her features. She said, “Your boat’s riding a little low in the water to just have one person on it, Ian.”
Whitfield throttled his vessel forward and smashed into the side of the other craft, knocking two of the men overboard and Valerie off her feet.
Whitfield rammed the RIB into reverse, props spinning half out of the water, and the boat surged backward. He slammed the throttle forward and the craft shot ahead. Shots fired by Valerie’s men pinged off the water and put holes in the RIB’s hull.
“Could use some help up here,” Whitfield called out.
Sean and Michelle threw off the tarp and came up while Horatio stayed low with his arms protectively around Viggie. The larger boat was racing after them. As gunshots zipped past them, Sean and Michelle ducked and then returned fire. Michelle strafed the other vessel’s bow with her MP5.
Whitfield cried out, “Conserve your ammo, I’ve only got two extra mags for the MP and one for each pistol.” He tossed Michelle another machine gun clip.
They were doing over a hundred kilometers an hour, the craft bouncing in nauseating leaps across the river as the wind picked up. The swells had quickly boiled to well over a meter in height.
Sean took careful aim and fired four rounds. Only at this distance and firing from what amounted to a trampoline, a pistol was not very effective.
“So can I ask a stupid question,” Sean called out to Whitfield.
“You can ask,” Whitfield called back.
“Can you tell us why your little woman is trying to kill you and us?”
Whitfield navigated across a particularly difficult wave and barked, “She’s not my wife. She’s my boss.”
Sean gaped at him. “Your boss! What the hell are you talking about? I thought you were the head of Camp Peary?”
“You can think what you want,” Whitfield snapped.