Chapter 19 - The Prison Break and the Midnight Fire
The 45-foot offshore interceptor boat cut through the six-foot ocean swells like a black missile, spray stinging Julian and Clara’s faces as they sped through the pitch-black Maine waters. The rain had intensified into a howling gale, waves crashing over the fiberglass bow.
Clara sat in the co-pilot seat, wearing a waterproof tactical jacket, checking the magazine of a spare semi-automatic pistol Julian had taught her to shoot weeks ago. Her hands were rock-steady now. The fear had burned away, leaving behind a pure, crystallized instinct to protect her child.
The satellite radio on the dashboard suddenly crackled to life with an emergency AP wire broadcast:
*“Attention all maritime and law enforcement units in New England. York Maximum Security Institution has declared a Level-1 catastrophic emergency. A massive explosion in the west wing initiated a structural fire at 9:45 PM. Multiple casualties reported. High-profile inmate Eleanor Sterling is unaccounted for. Repeat: Eleanor Sterling is missing and presumed escaped with armed external assistance. All regional ports and private airfields are on maximum alert.”*
Clara’s breath hitched in her throat. She looked at Julian through the dim green glow of the radar screen.
"She broke out," Clara whispered in disbelief. "She was never planning to rot in that cell. The gala... the poison... Lucas... it was all a coordinated distraction to pull law enforcement away from the prison!"
"Damian didn't take Lucas to hide him," Julian said, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel as the dark silhouette of Blackwood Island emerged on the horizon. "He took Lucas to bring him to Eleanor."
Ahead, shrouded in thick sea fog and battered by towering waves, Blackwood Island rose out of the Atlantic like a jagged black fang. At the summit of the island’s highest cliff stood Blackwood Manor—a gothic Victorian fortress of dark stone, its turret windows glowing with a sickly, yellow candlelight.
"Julian, look at the dock," Clara pointed through the night-vision binoculars.
Tied to the concrete pier at the base of the cliff was a luxury offshore yacht, its twin diesel engines humming, exhaust purring into the cold night air.
"They're preparing to leave the country," Julian said, cutting the boat’s running lights and easing the throttle into neutral. The boat drifted silently into the shadow of the sea caves two hundred yards from the pier. "If they get Lucas onto that yacht and reach international waters, we will never see him again."
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"Then we make sure they never leave that island," Clara said, her voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper.
Together, they slipped into the freezing ocean water, weapons held high above their heads, swimming silently through the crashing surf toward the jagged rocks of the Sterling family's darkest sanctuary.
