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

soon as he entered the cabin, the door shut and he heard the door catch being locked behind him. Would it happen now? He doubted it. The riskiest part of the operation would be the run to the coast and they would need him for that. The more likely explanation was that he was to be kept out of the way during the pick-up. He sat down with his back against one of the fuel tanks. One thirty. He had only two and a half more hours to come up with something. During the voyage to the rendezvous point, Jaime’s concentration had never lapsed, not even for a second. He could hear Jaime speaking Spanish from the deck. The Columbian had a satellite phone. The call was to the freighter carrying the cocaine. They were about to take on board drugs with a value of ten million dollars.

Somehow, he’d have to take the cocaine and get to the police as soon as he could. If everything went according to plan, Safardi and his gang would be in prison by the following evening. Kane leaned back against the fuel container, closed his eyes, and began to breathe deeply. Precious minutes of relaxation now would provide the fuel for action later.

The Spanish Navy vessel, Santo Cristobel, with Lieutenant Jorge Silva in command was moving smoothly through the waters west of Cape Finisterre. Silva looked out into the darkness and then examined the radar screen which was located directly in front of him. These were some of the most congested and hazardous waters in the world. However, paradoxically, the sweep of the radar indicated that not a single vessel was in range. So much for the information on the freighter which had left Mexico a week before. Silva’s superiors had been informed through the US Drug Enforcement Agency that a freighter carrying a major cargo of cocaine was heading in his direction. They had also determined that the cocaine would possibly be transferred off the coast of Spain. Galicia was a hotbed of smugglers with a long history of smuggling brandy, wine and cigarettes. The Spanish authorities were aware that a major group of cocaine smugglers had moved their base of operations into the area. Although they had often located the speedboats which the runners used to ferry their deadly cargoes ashore, they had yet to stop one single cargo from reaching its destination. The ruthlessness and skill of the drivers in getting their packages ashore was well known. The freighter had been tracked by satellite and was now approaching the coast of Galicia. The radar swept around and the tell-tale beep of a vessel appeared at the extremity of the sweep.

Kane came to full awareness with a start when the cabin door was pulled open. He heard the throb of powerful engines outside.

“Out,” Jaime said.

Kane came out into the cold early morning darkness. Jaime motioned him with the Uzi towards the cockpit. The stern of a rusty freighter bearing the legend La Paloma was receding into the distance. He looked onto the afterdeck which was covered in more than one hundred packages. each wrapped with black plastic to protect it from the seawater.

“Vamos,” Jaime said. “We go to Rianxo.”

Kane started the engines and, after checking their position, wheeled the boat around. He looked at the radar and saw the blip indicating the departing freighter. Otherwise, it was all clear. He cast a glance over his shoulder and saw that Jaime had settled himself in the seat on the aft deck. The Uzi was trained on a spot between Kane’s shoulder blades. He pushed the throttle and pointed the speedboat towards the rocky shore of Galicia. He punched the course coordinates into the onboard navigation computer and opened the throttle. The REALM shot forward giving its full thirty knots. Kane had less than two hours to make his move. With the Uzi trained on his back, all the odds were against him but that had to be balanced with the fact that as soon as they arrived in Rianxo, his life wouldn’t be worth a cent.

They steamed on through the darkness of the Atlantic night, skimming over the dark swell of the ocean. Kane could feel all his senses tingling. It was the fear of death gnawing away at his insides, forcing every fibre of his body to concentrate on one goal: survival.

The ping on the radar set took him by surprise. He checked the dial. Whatever it was it was closing fast from the port side.

“We have a contact on the radar,” he said calmly. “It’s probably only a fishing vessel.” There was no way in heaven or earth that a fishing vessel could be closing at that speed, he thought. He checked the scale again. The blip was heading straight for them at thirty knots plus. No fishing boat could move that fast. He wondered whether he should turn the speedboat towards the approaching vessel then quickly dismissed the idea. To do that would mean certain death. If a Spanish Navy vessel hoved into sight, the cocaine would go overboard only a few seconds after he did. Jaime would see to that.

Jaime was instantly on his feet, the Uzi still levelled at Kane’s back. “You no fuck this up.” His voice was hard as steel. “If this the Spaniards, and you no break you balls getting’ away from them, then you goin’ to be shark bait. Comprende?”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing myself.” Kane opened the throttle and turned the wheel away from the approaching vessel while still maintaining a course towards the coast. “I understand.”

“Is better for you, hijo de puta.”

Kane watched the radar as he opened the throttle. The blip was travelling fast and making straight for them. The REALM was hitting near its top speed of thirty-plus knots. They were still a good twenty-five miles from the coast and the Atlantic swell was throwing up three to four-foot waves. The prow of the boat was riding high