Chapter 6 - The Ensenada Approach
The twin outboard engines of the military-grade interceptor screamed against the howling wind, flattening the steep, dark swells of the Pacific as we surged southward through the driving squall.
Saltwater stung my eyes, but I didn't blink. I sat on the rigid bench seat of the hull, wrapped in the thick tactical blanket, watching the digital navigation map glowing on Marcus’s console. The blip representing the Azure Horizon was slowing down, its amber trail curving neatly into the sheltered, rocky cove just north of Ensenada.
“They’re dropping anchor,” Marcus said, his eyes locked on the tactical screen while his hands worked the encrypted throttle controls. “They think they’ve outrun the weather and the witnesses. The local harbor patrol is paid off, and the Mexican maritime registry won't log an entry until morning.”
“Let them enjoy their champagne,” I said, my voice cutting through the roar of the engines with a quiet, lethal edge. “They have three hundred million reasons to celebrate tonight.”
Marcus glanced sideways at me, a rare, grim smile touching the corners of his mouth. “Your father’s going to be proud of how you handled this. Richard wanted to send a tactical strike team the second you called, but I told him my niece didn't spend ten years in naval intelligence to let someone else clean her house.”
“This isn't about cleaning a house, Uncle Marcus,” I murmured, leaning forward as the towering white silhouette of the luxury yacht loomed out of the darkness ahead, its interior lights glowing a warm, deceptive amber against the black cliffs of the cove. “This is about complete, unconditional dismantling.”
The black boat glided silently through the water, cutting its engines a hundred yards out and coasting on the momentum of the swell until it slid noiselessly beneath the towering stern of the Azure Horizon.
No lights flickered on the yacht’s outer deck. No watch was posted. They were completely, arrogantly secure in their victory.
May you like
I grabbed the carbon-fiber grappling ladder hanging over the side of our hull, looked back at Marcus, and nodded.
“See you on the quarterdeck,” I whispered.
