Part 24
The fog over the English Channel was a thick, suffocating blanket that swallowed the horizon whole.
Marcus kept the helicopter low, hovering just fifty feet above the churning, black waves to maintain visual contact.
"Radar shows three targets in this grid," Marcus shouted through the headset, his hands steady on the flight controls.
"The first two are commercial tankers. The third one is moving fast—thirty-five knots, heading straight for the French maritime border."
"That's them," I said, my eyes straining against the mist. "Get us closer."
As we broke through a dense bank of cloud, the Sterling Marauder appeared below us.
It was a massive, luxury vessel, two hundred feet of gleaming white fiberglass and tinted glass, cutting a violent wake through the ocean.
The deck was completely empty, but I could see the soft glow of lights from the main bridge.
"They've spotted us," Marcus said as the yacht suddenly began to veer hard to the left, attempting a evasive maneuver.
"They're trying to throw off our approach. I can't land on that helipad while they're turning like that."
"Then don't land," I said, unbuckling my harness.
"Victoria, what are you doing?" Marcus's voice cracked with rare panic as he looked over at me.
"You're not a soldier!"
"No, I'm a mother," I said, grabbing a heavy emergency fire axe from the back wall of the cabin.
"Hold the helicopter steady right above the aft deck. I'm going down."
"It's a fifteen-foot drop onto a moving target in the middle of a storm!" Marcus argued, his knuckles turning white on the joystick.
"Then you better make sure you hold her steady, Marcus," I said, sliding the side door open.
The freezing sea air exploded into the cabin, roaring like a wild animal.
Below me, the white deck of the yacht pitched and rolled against the black sea.
I didn't think about the height. I didn't think about the freezing water below.
May you like
I only saw my children's faces.
I gripped the axe, stepped out onto the skid, and jumped.
