Page 92 of Hidden Depths
A black RHIB.
Mounted on davits.
Fast.
Powerful.
Made for boarding another vessel.
Not fishing.
Not sightseeing.
Storm slowly looked up.
"They're prepared to leave that trawler."
No one answered.
Because everyone in the room was thinking the same thing.
Nearly a mile away...
Inside the wheelhouse...
The older man studied Sea Whisper through powerful stabilized binoculars.
"The girl with the camera."
"The youngest one?"
"She's becoming a problem."
The younger man glanced toward the photographs spread across the yacht's bridge through his own lens.
"They're organized."
"They're smarter than our briefing suggested."
The older man smiled faintly.
"I was hoping they would be."
He reached for the radio microphone.
"Maintain distance."
"No mistakes."
His finger rested on the transmit button another moment.
Then he added quietly,
"They're almost there."
He released the microphone.
Outside...
