Kurt raised his arms slowly. The man relaxed a bit and used his free hand to depress a small radio attached to his collar. “This is Caleb,” the man said. “I have the intruder. Do you want to interrogate him?”
A second of static preceded the reply. “No,” a man Kurt assumed was Acosta said. “Just shoot him and bring me his body.”
As the words came from Acosta’s mouth, Kurt hit the thumb switch on his left wrist guard. The powerful magnet came on instantly. It drew the heavy metal gun to the side just as Caleb pulled the trigger. Fire exploded from the barrel, and the bullet hit six inches to the left, punching a hole in the teak deck instead of Kurt’s skull.
Caleb stared in disbelief as the Colt stuck to the magnet on Kurt’s left arm. He never saw Kurt’s right hand balled into a fist and flying toward his jaw. The blow knocked him sideways and sent him sprawling onto the deck.
Kurt sprang to his feet and dashed for the rail without looking back. At a full run, he put his hands on the rail and hurtled over it. He swung through the air—holding the rail for a split second longer than necessary—and then he vanished into the dark.
On the bridge of the Massif, Rene Acosta waited to hear that the intruder was dead. To his surprise, Caleb’s voice came over the radio sounding angry and somewhat panicked.
“The intruder has gone overboard,” he shouted. “I repeat, the intruder has escaped and gone over the rail.”
Acosta lifted a radio to his mouth. “I told you to shoot him!”
“I did,” Caleb said.
“Then, what happened?”
“I don’t know,” Caleb said. “But I’m sure I hit him!”
Acosta burned with indignation, half at Caleb for such stupidity, half at the intruder for having the insolence to crash his party.
He glanced over at the yacht’s captain and made a twirling motion with his hand. “Turn us around. We’re going to have a hunting party.”
At that moment Kovack came in, waving for Acosta’s attention with his bandaged, handless arm. As Acosta looked his way, Kovack slung Calista onto the deck. She landed at Acosta’s feet.
“She was found in your cabin.”
“My cabin?”
Calista spoke up with a snarl. “The intruder broke into my cabin first,” she insisted. “He put a gun to my head and dragged me out the window while your inept fools snoozed outside my door.”
Acosta glared at her. Another lie. There was always another lie waiting on her lips.
“Do you really expect me to believe that?” he boomed. “You’re dressed differently than you were before. Perhaps we’re seeing your true colors.”
“Look at me,” she said. Her face was bruised, the split lip swollen and wet with blood. “Does it look like I went to your cabin of my own accord?”
Acosta turned to Kovack. “Did you or your men hit her?”
“No,” Kovack insisted.
“Tell them how you found us,” Calista prodded.
Kovack hesitated.
“Well?”
“Her screams alerted us to his presence,” Kovack said. “If it wasn’t for her, we wouldn’t have known he was there.”
By now Acosta could feel the ship leaning into the turn. He had bigger issues to deal with. “Lock her back in her cabin and post a guard outside her window,” he ordered. “And then join me on deck with rifles and a spotlight.”
“The guests are concerned,” another one of Acosta’s people mentioned.
“Tell them we’re going to have a bit of sport,” he replied. “The intruder is in the water. I’ll give ten thousand dollars to whoever gets off the killing shot.”
Five miles behind the Massif, Joe Zavala stood at the bow of the small fishing boat, trying to keep the speeding yacht in sight. At this point he could track the warm glow from the ship’s interior lights. But if she went dark, they would have a problem.