Page 36 of Sawyer’s Mistake

Sawyer thought back to the routine onboard the yacht. “They have dinner at seven on the dot every evening. It’s a pompous, formal affair, something Paul, Miranda, and Amélie do to keep up the illusion of safety. If we time it right, we’ll find most of the residents in the dining room.”

The men looked at each other.

“How many doors?” Storme asked.

Jake closed his eyes for a moment. The memory of the dining room wasn’t as clear as he would have liked. “Three. I think.”

“Okay,” said Storme. “We’ll figure it out. If we’re able to contain the main group in the dining room, we should be able to neutralize any guards keeping watch and then come back for the leaders.”

“Nighttime’s not the best time with the Remur around,” Zander argued.

“We need to stop Paul,” Sawyer said. He struggled to keep his tone neutral. “This strategy evens out the odds.”

Storme nodded. “Chances are there are a lot of innocent people on that boat. Men and women who’ve got no idea what’s going on. It gives us a chance to figure out who’s who and minimize collateral damage.”

“The innocent ones will be the ones not shooting at us, right?” Prado joked. The tension in the group went down a notch.

“It’s too late to approach the yacht tonight. We’ll wait here until tomorrow,” Zander said.

“Radio Prado and tell him to stay put at the factory,” Storme said. “If everything goes well, we should be back with them in two days.”

#

Jake

“I hate dark water,” Kopf grumbled, looking from the water’s edge.

“Let me add that to the list of things you hate, Kopf,” Meir countered, sounding bored.

“Easy for you both to say,” Kopf muttered under his breath.

“You’d rather wait here? Should we bring you a double-double and some cake when we’re done, perhaps?” Sawyer asked.

“What the hell is a double-double, man? Is that Canadian speak for coffee?” Kopf complained, but he was trying hard not to smile.

Sawyer clapped his friend in the back, grinning. He finished folding the tarp, stepping back to make sure their belongings were covered. He walked around the barge until he was satisfied that it looked like any of the other boats gathering rust by the riverside and should attract no unwanted attention.

He checked his weapon once more for luck before placing the strap around his shoulder and shifting it to his back.

“Settle down, guys,” Storme said, walking up behind them. “And stop complaining, Kopf. You were a combat swimmer for the German Special Forces. If anything, we’ll be asking you to carry one of us on your back.”

“We need to be quick about this if we want to catch everyone at dinner. We’ll split up to call less attention to ourselves. Sawyer, Meir, Kopf, the three of you seem to be looking forward to the swim; you can tackle it together. Zander and I will follow. You guys secure the dining room. We’ll take care of any guards.” His expression turned grim. “Do you have zip ties to secure the doors?”

Zander nodded, opening his jacket pocket to take out some bright blue plastic ties, which he proceeded to hand out. “These are industrial strength, each one should hold up to five hundred pounds, but use a few if securing anything close to that weight.”

Kopf flexed his muscles. “Beats swimming with chains,” he muttered.

“Remember, no more talking until we’ve secured the boat,” Storme finished, looking pointedly at Kopf.

Chapter 16

Jake

Sawyer looked out at the boat, still a good half mile away. It looked further away now than it had from the shore, but he knew that was just an optical illusion. The water was cool, bordering on cold. Swimming long distances always brought him back to his early training experiences. The water in Canada’s lakes had been a lot colder than this, but he’d also been wearing a wetsuit, not jeans like now. He glided silently through the water. His legs kicked powerfully and rhythmically, never breaking the water’s surface to avoid making noise. His boots and socks felt heavy on his back. He hoped the duct tape wrapped trash bag strapped to his back would keep them dry.

Kopf and Meir swam alongside him. As expected, despite his earlier words, the German soldier could swim like a fish and seemed to be expending no energy to do so. It was rare for Sawyer to find a man who could keep up with him in water, but he wouldn’t take his chances against Kopf. Meir was also a strong, though in his case graceless, swimmer. His arms chopped into the water at irregular intervals, propelling him forward.

“Stop sneaking looks at me, Kopf. I’m not going to drown,” Meir muttered, his voice a low growl.