Bloodline: A Sigma Force Novel (43 page)

He’d already cut the straps at the bow. Once free, the boat’s nose rose toward the surface, hanging vertical, still anchored at the stern. Keeping one hand on the transom, he worked at that rear strap of the tie-down. Pressure built in his ears as the island sank deeper, dragging him and the boat farther underwater.

As his air began to give out, he sawed frantically.

Stubborn piece of—

A light flared overhead, brightening the waters. A dark shadow idled into view on the surface, limned against the glow of its own lamps and accompanied by the slow putter of its engines.

Gray waited, despite the screaming burn in his lungs.

Once the shadow was directly overhead, Gray cut through the last of the tie-downs. Freed, the jet boat torpedoed upward, becoming a buoyancy-propelled battering ram.

Seichan watched the speedboat drift closer, coming within fifty yards of the tower. One of the crew shouted; another pointed a rifle. Her team had been spotted. A blast echoed over the water. The round ricocheted off the balcony railing.

Seichan ducked.

She and the others were too exposed on the balcony, but where could they go? The waters roaring up the side of the tower promised only a quick death by drowning.

She took potshots back at the boat—then an antediluvian monster blasted out of the sea and rammed into the edge of the speedboat. The force cracked the hull and flipped the boat, tossing the crew out of their seats.

Nearby, the monster settled to its carbon-fiber keel, resting on the water.

It was the yellow jet boat.

Gray popped up beside it. He had his SIG Sauer in hand and fired at the floundering men, hitting three of them. The fourth already floated facedown. Nearby, the cracked hull of the speedboat flooded and sank into the depths.

“Gray!” Seichan shouted and waved an arm.

He turned to face her—just as a second speedboat flew around the tower to the left, drawn by the gunfire. It raced under the balcony, spraying machine-gun fire up at it.

They all flattened, but Seichan knew they weren’t the assault’s true target. The patrol was only knocking them back to pass beneath them and go after easier prey.

Move it, Gray!

Gray hauled himself over the side of the jet boat and sprawled flat on the deck, making himself a harder target. The second speedboat came shooting around the curve of the Burj Abaadi.

Gunfire shattered the marble off the balcony façade.

His teammates ducked away—except for one.

As the boat sailed under the sinking balcony, a sleek shape vaulted into view, back paws kicking off the railing for extra distance. Kane flew across the short gap and landed in the midst of the four patrolmen.

The effect was the same as if a grenade had been tossed into the boat.

One man flung himself overboard in fright and got chewed up by the frothing riptide of the sinking tower. Kane latched onto the throat of another. The driver screamed, yanked the wheel, and, in a panic, drove the boat at full speed into an uprooted, floating palm tree.

The boat hit the thick trunk, shot into the air, and flipped upside down before crashing hard into the water.

Bodies floated up seconds later, lifeless or unconscious.

The only survivor proved his skill at dog-paddling.

Before that deadly collision, a sharp whistle from Tucker had sent Kane leaping from the boat, tail high. The dog landed safely in the calmer water, but the currents were pulling him back toward the churning tide at the base of the tower. Kane fought against it, burdened by his vest.

No, you don’t
.

Gray lunged into the captain’s chair of the jet boat. He searched and found the key in the glove box and started the ignition. He feared the depths might have damaged the engine, but he also knew jet boats were built for such abuse. As he hoped, a choking burble, a spat of water from the stern jets, and the engine roared lustily.

He shifted the throttle and shot toward where Kane struggled.

Hang on
.

Sliding next to the dog, Gray lunged out and grabbed Kane by his waterproof vest. He struggled to get the sodden, sixty-pound dog into the boat. Recognizing it would take both arms, he let go of the wheel. Unpiloted, the craft got pulled closer to the tower. The churning water growled hungrily, the undertow sucking everything down.

Finally, with a heave of his body, he hauled Kane aboard. The shepherd shook his heavy pelt, tail wagging, and bumped him affectionately.

“Thanks!” Tucker called over to Gray.

“Hey, what about us?” Kowalski complained.

By now, water flooded the lower deck of their balcony, churning hungrily. Gray’s three teammates clung to the railing.

Manning the wheel again, Gray opened the throttle and gunned his way over to the balcony. He brought the boat alongside them and worked the throttle to hold the craft steady. They climbed over the balcony and dropped on board. Tucker helped Kowalski with Amanda. She stirred enough to lift an arm and swat at the bigger of the two.

Kowalski pushed her arm down. “Sheesh. That’s the thanks I get for hauling your butt up ten flights of stairs.”

With everyone settled, Gray swung away from the sinking tower.

The jet boat was only a four-seater. With six on board, counting Kane, the boat drafted deeper than it should, making it sluggish and slow.

But they were afloat.

The same could not be said for Utopia.

The currents shifted under the boat, dragging the craft strongly to port. Gray corrected against that pull—but it only grew worse.

What the hell?

“Pierce!” Kowalski hollered, drawing his attention away from the currents to the skies above.

He craned his neck in shock.

The tower of the Burj Abaadi leaned precariously over the boat.

Gray searched outward. Across the rest of the island, towers and spires all canted in the same direction, as if blown over by a stiff wind.

Oh, hell …

Seichan recognized the danger, too. “The island is tipping.”

Gray jammed the throttle forward, picturing the island capsizing.

They needed to get to open water.

Off in the distance, a spire broke from its foundation. It toppled and slowly crashed into a neighboring building.

Closer at hand, a mighty moan vibrated through the waters. It was the deep groan of concrete and steel under stress. No one doubted the source.

All eyes turned to the Burj Abaadi.

It seemed the Eternal Tower was not living up to its name.

Aboard a large patrol boat, Edward bore witness to the island’s slow destruction. A quarter-mile away, Utopia upended, breaking apart, sliding back into the sea, a modern Atlantis. At its center, the Burj Abaadi toppled, the upper levels breaking and sliding off the central axis, like plates toppling from a tall stack.

Word had reached him that the patrols sent to the tower had gone missing. Attempts to raise them on the radio had failed.

It had to be the work of the group that attacked the base.

Measures would have to be taken.

But not without guidance.

Petra stepped through a nearby hatch, carrying a satellite phone in her hand. Her eyes locked with his, warning him it wasn’t good news.

She held out the phone.

He lifted it to his ear and heard the computerized voice greet him. “I
S THE CHILD SECURED
?”

“Yes.”

“A
ND THE MOTHER
?”

“Dead.”

Surely she had to be
.

“T
HEN COORDINATE ALL FORCES ON-SITE, ESTABLISH A NOOSE AROUND THAT ISLAND
. H
UNT FOR THOSE WHO ASSAULTED THE STATION
.”

“And if they’re found?”

He was given very specific instructions, ending with, “P
ETRA WILL TAKE MATTERS IN HAND FROM THERE
. S
HE KNOWS WHAT IS NEEDED
.”

He swallowed hard, feeling demoted—but he dared not complain.

And in the end, maybe it was better not to know.

Gray raced the jet boat as the island tore itself apart around him.

The sinking platform, twisted by tidal currents and punched from below by partially intact pylons, broke into smaller sections. Suddenly unmoored and top-heavy, those pieces began to topple and capsize, dropping buildings, spires, and scaffolding all around them.

Gray tried to avoid the worst of that roiling gristmill, flying at full throttle.

Still, more towers fell. Walls tore apart with explosive retorts. Windows shattered in showering bursts.

Floating debris choked their path, growing more treacherous by the minute. Gray jigged and jagged his way through the worst of it. The boat’s resilient carbon-fiber hull took care of the rest.

He needed a way out to open water, but rubble and ruin seemed to block him at every turn.

“Gray!” Seichan clutched harder to a brace.

“I see it.”

Ahead, a huge cross-section of a spire under construction—nothing more than a frame of iron—broke loose, hit a condominium tower, then rolled in their direction. Like some coin in a pachinko machine, it bounced and crashed toward them.

Kowalski swore coarsely.

A sentiment shared by all.

There was no way past it, and Gray had only seconds to act.

He sought the only cover available—but it would be tight.

“Everyone duck!”

He swung the jet boat to the right, spun the craft 180 degrees, and slammed it sideways under the protruding upper-story balcony of a sunken building. The tumbling monstrosity of iron clattered over them—then bounced away.

“Nice job parallel-parking,” Kowalski commented.

With a blast of the jets, Gray blew the boat back out of the shelter.

He turned, dug in, and sped for the distant glimmer of open water.

But even that path was closing.

Ahead, two residential towers leaned drunkenly against each other. The one to the right crumbled against its partner, dropping slowly, raining broken glass and debris.

“Go for it,” Seichan said.

Gray had no choice. He gunned the engine, firing the jets behind him into a roar. The boat blasted away like a rocket, striving to duck under that lowering guillotine of steel, concrete, and glass.

Kowalski curled over Amanda, whom he cradled on his lap. “I can’t watch.”

Seichan reached over and gripped Gray’s forearm.

Tucker braced his legs against the back of the captain’s seat.

Only one crew member had a different assessment.

Kane came forward, tucked under Seichan’s arm, and jumped up to bring his nose into the wind. His tail wagged fiercely, striking Gray in the shoulder.

With that bit of encouragement, Gray tightened his fingers on the wheel. The jet boat screamed across the last of the water, skimming along the surface at over sixty miles an hour.

Ahead, the building fell faster, the path below it pinching closed.

But Gray was already committed.

“Down!” he yelled.

Seichan’s fingers dug hard as she ducked, keeping Kane pinned under her arm.

The jet boat reached the gap and shot under the toppling tower, shattering through a rain of falling glass. For several seconds, the world filled with the scream of tortured steel and the thundering grind of concrete.

It felt like a derailed freight train tumbled past overhead.

Then they burst clear—

—as the tower crashed into the sea behind them, casting up a huge wave that shoved them, along with a flotilla of debris, farther out into the dark waters.

But those waters weren’t entirely
dark
.

A cordon of lights blocked the seas three hundred yards out, including a yacht-sized cutter.

The island’s security fleet had set up a blockade.

Gray slowed their flight.

“Maybe they didn’t see us,” Seichan said.

Gray glanced doubtfully back. As he turned his attention forward, his fears were confirmed.

A trio of those lights broke away, coming toward them.

He spun the jet boat and raced in the opposite direction. More lights hovered out there, too, other vessels in the blockade. But that wasn’t his goal. Once he gained some distance, he swung behind a floating pallet of construction lumber.

“Don’t think hiding here is going to work,” Kowalski said.

Gray stood and pointed overboard. “Everybody out.”