Chapter 17 - The Hunt on Black Waters
The Sikorsky helicopter skimmed just fifty feet above the turbulent waters of the Hudson River, its twin turbines screaming at maximum thrust. Rain battered the windshield like shrapnel, but Julian Blackwood stood anchored by the open side door, harness strapped around his waist, an assault rifle resting against his shoulder.
"Speedboat is maintaining sixty-five knots, heading toward the open waters off Long Island Sound!" the co-pilot yelled through the radio comms. "They're trying to reach international waters where a private cargo vessel is waiting to take them aboard!"
"They won't make it to the harbor," Julian said, his voice terrifyingly calm, the calm before an apocalyptic storm. "Marcus, take the starboard gun. Target their engines. Do not hit the stern cabin. Leo is inside that cabin."
"Understood!" Marcus mounted a heavy caliber rifle onto the helicopter’s side rail, squinting through the holographic thermal scope.
Below them, the speedboat wove violently through the choppy waves, the mercenaries on board realizing they were being hunted from the clouds. Two gunmen emerged from the vessel's center console, raising shoulder-mounted surface-to-air rocket launchers.
"Break right!" the pilot screamed.
A streak of white smoke ignited from the boat. Julian leaned out into the open sky, tracking the mercenary who fired. With three rapid, rhythmic squeezes of his trigger, Julian neutralized the shooter before the missile could lock on. The rocket veered wildly off course, detonating harmlessly in the gray mist two hundred yards away.
"Marcus, disable the stern drives now!" Julian ordered.
*Crack! Crack! Crack!*
Marcus's heavy armor-piercing rounds tore into the speedboat’s dual outboard engines. Black smoke belched from the stern, followed by a shower of sparks and the hideous shriek of tearing metal. The boat lurched violently, spinning sideways across the waves as its propulsion died, coasting helplessly toward a cluster of abandoned industrial shipping piers along the Brooklyn shoreline.
"Rope down!" Julian commanded the moment the speedboat ran aground against the rotting pilings of Pier 42.
Before the helicopter even stabilized in its hover, Julian grabbed the fast-rope, sliding down sixty feet through the freezing rain, his tactical boots slamming hard onto the wooden deck of the pier.
Two mercenaries stumbled out of the wrecked boat, raising their sidearms. Julian drew his weapon in a fluid, lethal motion. Two shots echoed through the fog. The men collapsed into the churning black tide.
Julian kicked the cabin door off its hinges, storming inside.
"Leo!"
The cabin was empty.
On the center table lay the tattered velvet bunny, drenched in saltwater. Beside it sat a high-frequency satellite transponder, broadcasting a pre-recorded loop of Leo's voice crying for help.
It had been a decoy.
Julian picked up the bunny, his hands trembling with a rage so profound that the air in his lungs felt like molten lead. He walked back onto the pier, holding the toy against his chest as Marcus roped down beside him.
"It was a diversion, sir," Marcus gasped, scanning the perimeter. "They switched him before the bridge. The team on the boat was sacrificed to draw us south."
Julian looked up into the pouring rain, his eyes completely hollow, stripped of all humanity.
"They didn't take him south," Julian whispered, the dark puzzle finally snapping together in his brilliant mind. "Archibald wouldn't risk moving him through international waters where my naval contractors patrol. He took him to the one place I would never think to look."
"Where, Julian?"
May you like
"The family crypt," Julian snarled. "The Sterling ancestral estate in Newport. He took Leo to Clara’s grave."
***
