Chapter 8 - The Audio Tape
*CLANK-CLANK-HISS!*
The heavy hydraulic latches blew open with a deafening blast of pressurized air. The twenty-eight-foot tender swung violently outward on its steel davits, swaying out over the black, churning abyss eighty feet above the surging ocean.
Inside the suspended boat, Toby shrieked as the craft pitched wildly sideways.
"NO!" Marcus bellowed.
Ignoring the bullet wound in his side, Marcus sprinted across the slick, sloping deck. He didn't fire his gun—he dropped it. He dove through the air, catching the trailing nylon safety lanyard of the lifeboat just as the secondary release pin snapped under the immense weight of the swaying craft.
The tender dropped twenty feet in a terrifying freefall before Marcus’s hands hit the manual brake winch, screaming in agony as the high-tensile cable tore the flesh from his palms. The boat jerked to a violent halt, dangling ten feet above the foam-crested swells.
Eleanor, clutching her bleeding shoulder, staggered toward Marcus with a heavy steel marlinspike she had snatched from a rigging locker. "Die! All of you, just die!"
Before she could strike, Clara—consumed by the primal, unstoppable fury of a mother in labor—dragged herself across the deck. She gripped the discarded fire-hose nozzle beside the bulkhead, twisted the brass valve wide open, and slammed the high-pressure seawater stream directly into Eleanor’s chest.
Two hundred pounds of pressurized saltwater slammed into Eleanor like a semi-truck.
The matriarch was blown backward across the deck. Her spine cracked against the shattered railing. The marlinspike flew from her grip. She skidded across the slick teak, completely helpless against the torrent, and tumbled over the side for the second time that night.
This time, there was no life-ring.
Eleanor fell into the dark, foamy sea. But she didn't sink immediately. She caught a trailing mooring line that had tangled around the yacht’s starboard stabilizer fin. She dangled there, half-submerged in the freezing brine, screaming curses into the storm that were swallowed by the howling wind.
Clara dropped the fire hose, crawling on her elbows and knees toward Marcus, who was clinging to the winch brake with bloody, blistered hands.
Another violent contraction tore through her. Clara cried out in agony, collapsing against the deck railing. "Marcus... I can't... I can't hold on..."
Suddenly, the hatch of the dangling tender popped open.
Toby’s small head poked out. Despite the terrifying drop beneath him, the nine-year-old climbed out onto the boarding harness, his little hands gripping the steel cable. In his pocket, he pulled out a small, bright red handheld Nintendo console that he had kept tucked inside his waterproof jacket throughout the entire ordeal.
"Mom! Marcus!" Toby yelled through the howling gale. "I got her! I recorded everything!"
Clara looked up, dazed, gasping through the contraction. "Toby... what?"
"When Julian went missing, Dad gave me this!" Toby cried, holding up the handheld device. "He said it had a voice recorder chip installed inside! When Grandma came into the galley, I pressed the mic button! I recorded her saying she poisoned Dad! I recorded her saying she poisoned Grandpa! It’s all on the chip!"
Julian hadn't just trusted Marcus. Julian had known that his mother would never suspect a nine-year-old child holding a toy. Julian had hidden the key to dismantling the Sterling empire in his son’s hands.
Marcus looked up at the boy, a fierce, triumphant grin breaking through his exhaustion and blood. "Good boy, Toby. You just put your grandmother on death row."
Marcus turned to Clara. "Clara, I’m locking the winch! I’m going to lower you into that boat right now! You’re having this baby, and we’re getting the hell off this sinking ship!"
Marcus wrapped his arms around Clara, bearing the full brunt of her weight as he lowered her down into the open cockpit of the tender. Toby reached out, pulling his mother inside the dry, enclosed cabin.
Marcus slid down the cable, his boots slamming into the deck of the tender. He hit the quick-release shackle.
*CLACK!*
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The tender detached cleanly from the dying *Sovereign Lady*, dropping smoothly into the crest of a massive wave. The engine roared to life as Marcus slammed the twin throttles forward, steering the rugged chase boat away from the massive whirlpool created by the sinking mega-yacht.
***
