“You know, like Fonzie. Jump the shark!”
He shook his head with disbelief, not sure what was more incredible: that he’d suggested running Susan’s Grace over the bottom of the angled barge, or that the young guy knew who Fonzie was. Ezra wondered if weird, random thoughts were common when someone was about to die.
There was no way he could envision running his boat on top of the other one. For starters, he’d have to retract the motor, so it was all the way up. It was fine when going through shallow water, but it couldn’t be done with a finger snap. They’d get slower as he brought it up, and they’d probably barely be moving by the time they hit the metal ramp.
It was suicide.
Still, he didn’t slow down. He ignored the guy shooting at him. Ezra desperately watched the blocked-off side of the channel where the angled hull met the water, still sure there was going to be a way through.
“Did you notice my boat doesn’t come with seatbelts?” he deadpanned to his friend.
Denver, CO
“Howard, why is there a PWI truck parked next to my rock?” He held open the tent flap, allowing his executive assistant a clear path to see what he meant.
“What the hell?” Howard replied, clearly shocked.
Over the next few minutes, Petteri and Howard gathered up as many free employees as they could find and surrounded the two PWI workers who didn’t belong there.
“We’ve got the recovery well in hand,” he called out to one of the men holding a piece of the survey equipment nearest the truck. The man’s partner had gone to the far end of the rock, which was precisely 18.4 meters away, as his survey team earlier reported.
The guy barely looked at him. “I have my orders to help you out. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to take some readings.”
Howard got close to the man. “You aren’t hearing what we’re saying. TKM is running the show here. We don’t need your help, nor do we want it.”
The surveyor smiled. “Is that a threat?”
Howard wasn’t the type of person to back down, which was what Petteri paid him for. “It’s a statement of fact. This rock you see here in front of you has already been surveyed and primed for explosives. Your presence here is a danger, mostly to you and your helper.”
Petteri was pleased to see the PWI man take a few steps back, properly cowed by Howard’s warning. However, it was only a temporary movement. When the man had enough distance from Howard, he lifted his loose-fitting button-down shirt to show a pistol snug against his hip. The man laughed in a serious way. “I don’t think I’m the one in any danger. It’s a free country. We’re on property owned by the city of Denver. I have equally as much right to be here as anyone else. If you threaten us again, you’re going to have to back it up.”
Howard made like he was going to reveal his own weapon, but Petteri got in front of him. “Howard. would you please go in your tent and get the mayor’s memorandum? I’d like to show our friend here who really has the authority to be on this street.” He’d paid off the mayor with enough cash to buy a thousand memos.
The ex-officer breathed in and out through his nose, much as a bull facing a bullfighter might do. It took him a few seconds to realize what Petteri had asked, but eventually he calmed down and looked at his boss. When he did, Petteri whispered so only he could hear. “I want two snipers looking at these guys. Now.”
The new orders brought Howard back to the moment. He spoke loud enough for the other men to hear him. “I’ll get the document you want. Give me a few minutes.”
He turned to the construction guy, smiling. “See? We’re reasonable people.”
The man shrugged, then picked up his survey unit once again. Petteri looked at him with disdain, unable to reconcile the idea some commoner could own a weapon which could potentially derail his entire operation in Denver. While Howard was out of his sight and, presumably, preparing a nasty surprise should the man wield his gun again, engine noises came from an adjacent street.
“What now?” he asked aloud.
The man’s eyes drilled into Petteri’s with as much force as any blasting explosives. “Those trucks are with my digging crew. Now we have a real party, don’t we?”
For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t dealing with someone who was afraid of him, or the TKM brand. It was thrilling in some respects, knowing he would have to teach the man a lesson about who was going to walk away with the valuable ore. Even the arrival of more of the man’s friends wouldn’t change the eventual outcome. It was going to be a real party, like the surveyor said, but things were about to go very wrong for those who weren’t invited.
“Indeed we do,” Petteri smirked.
Chapter 11
Billings, MT
While waiting for Felicia to get her plane out of the hangar, Grace was wracked with indecision. There was no reason to think the situation was going to improve in the city of Billings. The place had been descending into lawlessness ever since she woke up on the hard church bench. The police were barely holding things together. She and Asher weren’t even supposed to be there. It was only a waypoint, a temporary place of safety while they considered where to go next. As such, they held no loyalty toward the Montana town. If hopping a plane would get them to safety, it might be worth it.
However, they couldn’t hop a plane and leave Logan. She checked the rearview mirror, trying to catch sight of him in the cargo area. He sat right behind one of the seats, apparently looking out the side window. Only his black hair was visible.
While watching him, the navy-colored TKM twin-engine private jet screamed by on the wide lane between the hangars.
“There goes our friend,” she said to Asher matter-of-factly.
“I’m sure he knows something we don’t,” he replied. “Maybe we should take his hasty exit as our own guide. Like, now is the time to beat feet and take to the skies.”
Grace considered it. “He said he was going back to Yellowstone.”
“I’d rather not go in that direction,” he laughed.
She thought about it. “Why do you think he’s going there?”
“Eco-tourism?” he snarked.
They both looked at each other and cracked up laughing.
Logan finally moved from the cargo area to the middle row of seats. “What’s so funny? Did you know the people on that plane? Are we going on a jet?”
Her laughter died down. “We’ve been on the road a long time. I thought I’d seen and heard everything, but I’m finding out there’s much more weirdness than I ever imagined. The guy on the plane wants to kill us, but he also saved our lives.”
“Twice,” Asher inserted.
“Twice,” she agreed. “And now we’ve become responsible for you in a dying city, and we don’t have the slightest clue what to do.”
He snapped to attention. “Whoa! You can let me out here. I’ve always wanted to see the airport. I’ll call my mom and she’ll come get me, so you don’t have to worry.” Logan slid over to where the passenger door used to be. “I can go right now.”
“Hey!” she protested. “Wait. We’re not sure what we’re going to do, but kicking you out definitely isn’t one of them.” She stared at the boy for ten or twenty seconds, to ensure he knew she was serious.
“Okay. Whatever. I guess I’ll hang with you two until you catch your ride.”
Grace shook her head, unsure how to explain they hadn’t made up their minds about taking the plane out of town. Her eyes returned to Asher, though he was already watching her.
“What?” she asked in a low voice.
“You’re a great ranger. I know we’re not in your park, but you take care of people like the whole world is part of Yellowstone. I’m glad I ended up with you.”
They hadn’t talked about their brief kiss during the high-stress descent down Beartooth Pass, or the one at the roadblock, but their moments of intimacy came rushing to the forefront of her mind as she met his brown eyes. Distantly, she wondered if her attraction to him had mo
re to do with stress than anything else, but it didn’t matter. The lightning strike of desire came back with a thunderous jolt down her spine. Asher seemed to share her renewed interest, and may have been leaning over the center console.
“Do you two have the hots for each other?” Logan asked dryly.
The moment popped like a balloon.
“What?” she shot back, shifting away from Asher. “No. Why would you say that?”
Asher retreated over to his seat, too.
Logan giggled. “Well, you’re looking at each other with googly eyes. I see it a hundred times a day in my high school. Sometimes it’s gross, but you two make it work.” His voice became husky. “You’re like two hot cops getting ready to arrest each other.”
“Ugg,” she replied, sure the moment was ruined beyond hope. However, when she glanced over at Asher, she took note of his red cheeks and guarded smile. Was he enjoying her discomfort or was he smiling because Logan spoke the truth? Were they two cops with the hots for each other?
She laughed it off until motion caught her eye in the hangar. The BLM plane began to move. The steps had been pulled up. Its engine thrust resonated in the enclosed space.
“Oh, crap! Look out!” She’d parked in front of the hangar so as to stay out of the roadway where the planes traveled. She started the engine, intending to move, but the plane didn’t give her a chance. The nose of the jet wedged against the roof of the truck’s rear cargo area, causing the metal to bend.
“What’s she doing?” Grace shrieked.
Logan scrambled out of the truck.
The Bureau of Land Management plane added thrust, which created a hurricane inside the small hangar. The pilot seemed to dial one engine down and punch the other in the gut. The screaming turbine made the opposite side of the plane roll backward. When the pilot switched thrusters, the other side of the plane reversed while the first side stayed frozen.
“It’s backing up,” she said, figuring out the complicated dance being executed by the pilot.
Finally, having about three feet of clearance from her truck, the pilot set both engines to an insane pitch, which came across as a threat to run through her if necessary.
“Fine,” she declared, not wanting even more creases in the metal of the beat-up Chevy. Grace hit the gas and moved over to the edge of the door.
Immediately, the plane released its brakes and shot outside the hangar.
She jumped out, flashing the bird at the pilot, as she might do in a road rage situation. “What the hell!” she yelled, getting no satisfaction. She couldn’t even see the cockpit from where she stood.
Asher met her at the back bumper. “She was never going to take us anywhere, was she?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Why would she even suggest it if she wasn’t going to take us?” None of it made any sense. They’d done their part and gotten Felicia to the airport. It wouldn’t have cost her anything but time to let them board. Not that she was sure they would have done so, but it would have been nice to have the option.
Logan strode up from wherever he’d ducked to avoid the moving passenger jet. “You guys want to go with me to the airport terminal? We can watch your friends take off.” He spoke like it was barely worth notice they’d been left behind.
She realized Asher’s hand was in hers. Despite his comforting grip, she separated herself to address the boy.
“I’m not sure what just happened, but I’m positive of what we’re going to do next. We’re taking you home to your family. No hangars. No terminals. No malls.”
Logan rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, that’s not going to be easy. I kind of lied earlier about where I lived. I’m not even from Billings.”
Grace sighed heavily. “This day keeps getting better and better.”
Near Grand Tower, IL
After their delay hitting the underwater object, most of the pirate fleet was within shooting range. There were three speedboats about a hundred yards back, and two pontoons trailing a couple hundred yards more behind those. Ezra refused to let off the gas, even in the last few seconds before reaching the capsized container barge.
“We’re going right there!” Ezra pointed to the lower part of the hull on their left. The whole ship was canted in their direction, providing a natural ramp. Even though the hauler was two hundred feet long, it was only about thirty-five feet across. Still too wide to slide up and over like a ski jump, Fonzie style, but he tried to aim low, thinking he could get around the debris blocking the way, rather than catch some air.
“E-Z, there’s no ‘there’ there!”
“Hold on!” he replied, sure they were going to end up in a fiery wreck, but slightly comforted that if he failed to go where he aimed there would be nothing for the pirates to salvage.
He closed the distance to the barge, looking for any advantage he could use. The underside was slick with mud, probably due to how it had been stuck on the sandbar after being tossed upside down. The flat surface of the bottom wasn’t broken up by fins, or motors, or any other embellishments common on the hulls of ships. It was simply designed to carry heavy freight in its rectangular frame. That lucky break ensured his boat wouldn’t get caught on anything during his desperate stunt.
“I’m going for it!” he yelled at the last second, bolstering his faltering confidence.
He kept the engine revving hard but adjusted the trim on the fly, so the blades came out of the water at the same moment the front of the pontoons ran up on the barge’s hull. He lost a little speed as the blades neared the surface, but the machine still had enough momentum to continue forward. He lurched with the impact when metal struck metal and used the steering wheel to steady himself.
The pontoons screeched wildly as they slid across the slick surface. There was lots of wet mud, but it wasn’t quite the lubricant he imagined. The pontoons only slid about twenty feet before the boat came to an abrupt stop.
Ezra shut off the motor. “We didn’t go as far as I’d hoped.” The flipped barge was positioned so he was able to drive up on its underside, but it canted more than he thought, so the edge closest to the river was higher than it looked. The steeper incline was hard to see while on the move, but it was distinct once he was on it.
“Get out!” Butch shouted. “Grab your rifle.”
The chase boats had neared. Multiple men brandished their rifles. The guy in the red speedboat took aim and a ricochet clanged off the exposed aluminum pontoon tube.
When he rolled off the edge, he immediately slipped on the mud. Butch made a similar misstep with his boots before steadying himself next to the deck. He didn’t make any funny comments as he enjoyed doing most of the time. Instead, he pointed toward the pirates and quickly aimed. “We have to shoot them.”
The loud report of Butch’s gun bashed his skull. Ezra lifted his rifle and laid it on the edge of the deck to line up his shot. It dawned on him how Butch had given them a new advantage. He caught his breath in order to steady his aim. Then, he sent a round toward the jerk at the front of the red boat.
“Yes!” he cried out. The man fell backward, presumably a result of being struck.
Butch re-oriented. “I’ll take the yellow boat. You get the gold one.”
Ezra did as the veteran soldier advised. He aimed at the big gold boat, which looked expensive. Unlike the smaller red one, it had lots of overhead racks and light bars, which were designed for holding skis and pulling skiers. As the boat powered down with a sharp turn, it exposed two men holding AK-47 rifles with their distinctive banana magazines. He thought they looked like they’d fit in with pirates along the coast of Somalia, not southern Illinois.
“Got ya,” he said quietly.
The two men tried to level their rifles in his direction, and they even got a few shots off, but their boat bounced during deceleration, throwing off their aim. By contrast, he and Butch were planted on firm ground. He was able to aim each shot with his simple 4X scope, as he’d often practiced at the gun range back in Fairdealing
.
Ezra knocked down one of the men instantly. It took him a few shots to connect with the second guy since the man kept himself low in the boat. However, he clipped the pirate in the shoulder when he popped back up. Finally, he put a few rounds in the skipper of the golden speedboat, who was unable to steer in the crowded area without raising his head. The boat continued without its driver, crashing through some trees at the edge of the channel and then running ashore in a muddy field.
The pirate pontoon boats were able to halt before getting too close. They veered off and took refuge behind a tangle of floating driftwood, a white shipping container, and a half-shingled roof. The pair of boats each had five or six men on them. Like Susan’s Grace, those two were designed for carrying people.
Butch had nailed the driver of the yellow watercraft; it now spun in a tight circle in the middle of the channel with no one at the helm. If there were other men inside, they were smart enough to not stick their heads up.
“Don’t let him get away,” Ezra ordered, pointing to the red speedboat. It was the only one that managed to find a path back toward safety. He was sure the tenacious driver was going to position the red boat in order to shoot them from a distance.
He and Butch both let loose a barrage of rounds, but he ran out of ammo before he was certain of a hit. Butch also stopped shooting at almost the same time. “We need a reload,” his partner said as he hopped back into the boat, searching for the backpack full of ammo.
Ezra scanned the oxbow bend for the guys on the pontoon boats. They were out there, almost certainly working to get in position to shoot back at them. “We’re outnumbered. Outgunned. And I’ve made it so we can’t use the boat anymore.” He looked toward shore. If they could get up the slippery hull, it would be easy to jump to the muddy bank and head out into the Illinois countryside. Assuming they could dodge the shooters…
A round zipped off the barge’s hull, creating a ricochet sound identical to one he’d heard in the movies.
Impact Series Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 48