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

Karakatis immediately changed course and began to veer to the port cutting off Kane’s approach.

Kane could see Karakatis’ white and blue striped Hellas directly in front of him. The Greek’s boat was making good speed despite the choppy waters but Kane’s combination catamaran/deep-V was faster and as stable as the Greek boat at speed. The boat responded immediately to the alteration of course as he brought it to a heading which would pass Karakatis on the landward side.

“What the hell!” Kane peered through the canopy as Karakatis turned the Hellas slightly to the left in order to block his approach. “Someone is playing silly buggers and we don’t have time for that. Give it all you’ve got, Morweena.”

“We’re pushing our luck as it is.” Her voice was tense with fatigue and excitement. “It will get hairy if we open the throttle any further.”

“Do it.”

Morweena opened the throttle slowly and the speedometer began to inch up while the gap between the two boats closed slowly. “Karakatis is keeping his course pushing us further towards the coast and blocking an overtaking manoeuvre.”

Kane watched the distance between the two boats diminishing. The buffeting they were taking was incredible as their boat rode Karakatis’ wake. They were on the edge between marginal stability and instability. There was now less than thirty metres between the two boats and the gap was closing.

The Hellas held steady to her course as the gap between the two boats narrowed to twenty-five metres. Kane turned the wheel and the boat took a huge leap out of the water before careering to the side. His boat was now travelling on the seaward side of the Hellas. As soon as the propellers hit the water, Morweena opened the throttle and the black boat shot forward.

“He’s switched to seaward!” Karakatis cursed when he heard his team manager’s exclamation. He had been outmanoeuvred and it was too late to react. He was beaten. The Greek turned the wheel slowly back onto his original course as Kane shot past him to seaward.

Kane didn’t break his concentration for one second to glance at his adversary. There would be plenty of time to gloat at the end of the race. De Vries’ remark came into his mind. There were no adherents of the Marquis of Queensberry rules among the offshore racers. However, had the Greek done anything that he or the other thirty starters wouldn’t have done in the same circumstances? Everybody was on the water to win and to stop their adversaries any way they could. He would certainly remember Karakatis’ attempt at foul play, but right now there were Jackson, Tadeka and Barrett to worry about and little more than two laps to go.

“You might have given me a hint of what you had in mind,” Morweena said.

“I would have if I’d known myself.” He glanced at Morweena and saw the lines of fatigue etched on her face. He marvelled not for the first time at her courage and determination.

“I don’t fucking believe it,” Milan said. The crew of the Metro had been informed by radio that Kane was directly behind him.

“Shit!” Barrett shouted.

“The fucker Kane is right behind us. They’ve got past Karakatis.”

“Open that fucking throttle,” Barrett shouted.

“That’s insane, boss. Any more throttle and we won’t be able to control her.” Milan looked at Barrett’s expression and reluctantly opened the throttle.

An ocean of spray was flowing over the canopy restricting their view of the three leaders directly in front of them. Morweena was working the throttle constantly now as their boat bounced around on the surface of the water like a cork in a gale. She could feel the bruises rising on her arms and legs and her right arm had long since lost the articulation of the elbow. Why the hell are we doing this? she thought as she responded once again to the boat leaping out of the water. They could have been sunning themselves on one of the beaches they were passing instead of taking a pummelling that would fell a prize-fighter. She looked at Kane and saw the intense concentration on his face.

Brit1 began the final lap with a two hundred metre lead over Tadeka’s Nippon with Metro a hundred and fifty metres further behind. Kane got a view of the three boats passing on his port side as he prepared to make the turn around the buoy. It was all or nothing on the seven kilometres of the last lap. Kernow skipped over the water as Kane wheeled hard to port and swung the powerful boat around the buoy. Morweena opened the throttle as soon as they were lined up along the coast and they set off in pursuit of the leaders.

Barrett’s boat was now operating at full throttle and was exhibiting signs of instability.

“More throttle,” Barrett roared as the Metro surged out of the water and crashed down several seconds later, listing badly as the stern clipped the top of a wave.

“There is no more throttle,” Milan cried. “And even if there was, I wouldn’t give it. I’m easing off.” He closed the throttle.

“You move that throttle one millimetre from the fully open position and you’ll answer to me at the end of this race!”

Milan scowled and pushed the throttle into its former position. The boat lurched as the extra fuel was injected into the already churning engines.

Kane and Barrett were racing side by side separated by twenty metres. The Penhalion boat was being pushed to the limits of its design while Barrett’s boat had already passed its threshold. Kernow gradually crept ahead until it nosed in front as the two boats raced past Cap Ferrat. Suddenly a freak wave hit the two bows, and both boats were launched into the air.

The nose of Barrett’s boat ascended vertically in front of him and he prayed that it would stop. The bow kept rising and Barrett realised that they had hit the critical moment in any offshore