Crash Course by Derek Fee (pdf to ebook reader .txt) 📕

but he could not pull his eyes away from the sky above his head. They were powerless until the boat hit the water. As he was pushed back in the cockpit, he prepared himself for the inevitable return to the water. The impact, when it came, was gut-wrenching. He felt like he had been punched by Tyson Fury but in every part of his body at the same time.

So much for race watching, he thought as he raced past Jackson’s stricken boat.

The two boats raced side by side over the choppy waters separating Capri from the mainland. They powered together through the starting line and on to the last lap of the race. Morweena opened the throttle and gradually the boat, bucking and skimming over the surface, began to pull away from its rival.

Kane marvelled at Morweena’s skill and concentration. For more than two hours she had been focusing all her attention on the dials in the panel directly before her, all the while taking a buffeting which would have daunted even a strong man and yet she was still performing in top gear.

“You’re fourth,” Bell’s excited voice intruded on Kane’s thoughts. “Go for it, laddie. Show them what you can do.”

Kane concentrated on keeping them on course for the first buoy for the last time. Had that really been the voice of the hard-bitten Yorkshire businessman or was it the voice of someone half out of their mind with excitement?

The five lead crews were now pushing their boats to the limit knowing that any weakness in the last lap would finish them in the race. There would be no quarter expected at this stage of the race and none would be given.

Their boat was one metric tonne lighter than when it began the race. They skipped around the second buoy, again spending an uncomfortable amount of time in the air. Morweena kept the pressure on the throttle as they sped towards the city of Naples for the last time. They powered forward skipping along the course like a stone skimmed across the surface of a flat pond. The Penhalion team were gradually gaining on the fourth-placed Spanish catamaran the San Miguel. Kane watched as the distance between the two boats shrank and suddenly they were running along, side by side. The Spanish boat bucked into the air as the throttleman tried to keep pace. As Morweena eased the yellow and black hull ahead of the Spaniards, the throttleman on the San Miguel overcompensated and the Spanish boat climbed high into the sky. Kane glanced sideways in time to see the boat go perpendicular and flip back on itself before smashing into the water and bounding into the air a second time. A helicopter immediately appeared overhead.

“The San Miguel has slowed down,” David said excitedly. “Discretion is obviously the better part of valour.”

Kane and Morweena heard the words echoing in their helmets but their concentration was such that they felt no emotion.

They were closing on the three lead boats but time was running out. The buoy at the Castello Aragonese was now in view and Hakonen’s catamaran, Finnspeed, had already rounded it. Kane could feel the tension biting at his stomach.

It was all or nothing as they rounded the buoy for the last time. The wind whipped the white-capped waves against their port side as they powered past the exposed entrance to the bay. Spray poured in a continuous stream over the canopy, cutting visibility to a hundred feet. Kane saw Barrett’s yellow-coloured Metro running in front of him and changed course to get out of his wake. Barrett changed course with him forcing them to plough into his steep wave. They bucked under the combined action of the sea and Barrett’s wake. Kane altered course again but his change was followed by Barrett.

“What the hell is he up to?” Kane shouted.

“That should be pretty obvious,” Morweena’s voice was high and strained. “He doesn’t want you to get past before Faraglioni. Once we’re around the last buoy there’s only a two-mile run-in and he reckons that he can hold you over the sheltered water.”

“Give it everything you’ve got.”

Morweena opened the throttle slightly and they bucked into a wave leaping forward over the wake being thrown up by Barrett.”

The muscles on Kane’s arms were at breaking point as he steered their boat to the land side of Faraglioni. Gradually they closed the distance, with Barrett enduring a buffeting that only the Kevlar-reinforced hull could withstand. Kane held his course as the two boats came closer. He strained to see through the canopy but the stream of sea-spray obscured his view. He fixed his gaze over the top of the canopy on the island of Capri and began to head for a point in the centre of the island which he thought would be in a direct line with the buoy.

The two boats were neck and neck as they sped for the final buoy of the race.

“You’re too bloody close!” David’s scream filled Kane’s helmet. “Get away from the bastard.”

Kane held his line, inching forward to Barrett’s rear. The two boats sped over the waves at close to their maximum speed of one hundred and thirty knots as the buoy came into sight. Five hundred metres would decide who would get there first. Kane pointed the boat’s nose at the corner of the buoy. The two boats were close. Each racing at top speed for the same spot on the sea’s surface.

Kane’s body tingled with excitement as the competitors ran side by side. They were about to crash. Everybody would be killed and he would finally have accomplished his aim of obliterating himself. He didn’t mind dying but he did mind killing Morweena. Something inside shouted at him to pull away but he couldn’t.

Sweat rolled down Barrett’s forehead. He shouted at his throttleman to give the damn boat more juice but a glance to his side showed the throttle fully open. That bastard Kane had caught him and unless he could get