The windshield took another round, making it harder to see through, but now Stone could make out the masthead lights in the harbor and the tall light at the marina, a couple miles away.
Lance looked back. “No further pursuit, but we’re blown. Time for Plan Zero.” He picked up his radio and spoke into it. “Plan Zero. Plan Zero. Plan Zero. Execute. There will be small arms fire.”
Stone steered toward Breeze now. He could see her clearly by the marina lights. “What’s Plan Zero?” he asked. A helicopter flew down the harbor at low altitude; lights were coming on aboard yachts.
“Plan Zero is to board Tsarina and capture all persons. No shooting unless absolutely necessary.”
“How far into the future does Plan Zero take us?”
“Until dawn,” Lance said. “Everyone who’s still alive will be transported to a secure facility; any wounded or dead will be attended to. Once secured, interrogation of those on board will commence. That will be helped along by the fact that we’ve recorded everything anyone on board has said for the past two days.”
Stone pulled up to the outboard side of Breeze, caught the hoisting cables, and hooked them up. “What can I tell Vanessa about her mother’s fate?”
“You can tell her that Betty has been detained for questioning. She’ll be given an opportunity to speak to an attorney. Then, if she tells all and agrees to testify, she won’t do more than a year of prison time, and that at the nearest thing we have to a country club prison.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“She’s our best shot, since she’s an American and has a life to go back to, unlike the others. If she doesn’t accept the plea deal, then she, along with all the others, will be transported to a very secure location, the name of which you would recognize but I can’t speak it.”
“Sounds like Guantánamo,” Stone muttered.
“I didn’t say that, and you didn’t hear it,” Lance said.
The runabout was hoisted onto the top deck by a winch and set gently into a cradle. Stone and Lance gathered their equipment and dropped it into a canvas bag that Lance produced. He kept his radio.
An edge of the sun seemed to rise from Chappaquiddick, to the east. They went down to the main deck, looking for breakfast. A crew member took their order.
“Lance,” Stone said, “why are you here? I mean, raiding foreign yachts and capturing their passengers is not part of your job description, is it?”
“My job description is whatever I want it to be, and once in a while, I like to get out into the weeds with operational people. It’s more fun than sitting behind a desk.”
Lance’s radio crackled. “Scramble,” he said.
“Scrambled,” came the reply.
“What is your status?” Lance asked.
“Plan Zero executed and complete. We’re returning to mother ship.”
“Casualties?”
“One wounded in our party, non-life-threatening. Two wounded, one female fatality among the detainees.”
“Which female?” Lance asked.
“Number one,” he replied. “It couldn’t be helped. She was given every opportunity, but she shot our guy.”
“Secure,” Lance said. “Over and out.” He dropped the radio into the canvas bag with the other gear.
“Who is female one?” Stone asked.
“I could lie to you but I’d rather not. It’s Betty Baker.”
Stone sighed, making a moaning noise. “Oh, God,” he said.
The two of them had finished breakfast when Dino and Viv appeared on deck, hungry.
“You two been up all night?” Dino asked.
“Most of it,” Stone said.
“Is Vanessa up?” Lance asked.
“I could hear her moving about when we came up,” Viv replied.
“Stone,” Lance said. “You’d better go and speak to her.”
Stone turned and looked at him askance.
“She’s yours,” Lance said, “and your work to do. Don’t lie to her, but tell her as little as possible.”
Stone felt as if he had been struck in the chest with a heavy object, but he got unsteadily to his feet and headed for the stairs, feeling sick.
END
Mount Desert Island, Maine
July 12, 2019