Determinant

by E. H. Reinhard

  Chapter 36

  I made out the words on the back of the boat as we got inside of a fifty yards—the Illusion. The boat sped up. Ray stood at the helm console. His attention turned to us. We came alongside—fifty feet away. Ray lifted his gun.

  “Shit! Gun!” Hank shouted.

  Bill jerked the steering wheel and hit the throttle. The boat plunged right, and the engine roared.

  I heard gunshots—five total. They came from Ray. None of them hit us or the boat. Bill took us out a thousand feet from Ray’s boat and matched speed.

  “Can he hit us from here?”

  “He could if he rested that cannon on something. I’m not sure he’s that smart though.”

  Bill gave the steering wheel a flick to the right and took us another few hundred feet from him.

  “You have a radio on this thing?” I asked.

  “Below. Right as you go down.”

  “Can we make a call to the Coast Guard with our location?”

  “Sure,” Bill said. He turned to his friend. “Rich, do you mind?”

  Rich stood from the passenger seat and swapped the driving duties with Bill.

  Bill opened the cabin door and stepped down. He looked back to me. “What am I supposed to say?”

  “Give them our coordinates. My detective should have already been in contact with them.”

  He went below to make the call.

  “What’s the plan here fellas?” Rich asked.

  I gave it some thought. We’d have to babysit Ray until we got backup from the Coast Guard. We’d gone far enough out of our jurisdictional waters that our Marine Unit would no longer be an option. “Let’s just keep following him until the Coast Guard arrives. We don’t have any other options.”

  “Um, guys?” Hank pointed at Ray’s boat. It had stopped.

  Rich let up on the throttle. The Donzi pushed water forward as the nose came down. Our boat rocked to a stop. Bill came back up and took over at the wheel. “What’s going on?”

  “It looks like he stopped. What’s the word from the Coast Guard?” I asked.

  “They’re on their way. Why do you think he stopped? Is he trying to give himself up?” Bill asked.

  “This guy isn’t the giving himself up type,” I said.

  A shot came from Ray’s boat. The bullet ripped through the water ten feet from us.

  “He’s shooting again!” Bill yelled.

  Another shot came a split second later, just a few feet away.

  “Jesus Christ!” Bill cranked the wheel right and hit the throttle.

  Another shot came. The slug whizzed over our heads by a foot.

  “He’s getting his range. Go, go, go!” Hank yelled.

  We heard another shot over the sound of the Donzi’s engines. The bullet splintered through the back of the boat.

  “Did he just hit my damn boat?” Bill hollered back over his shoulder.

  I didn’t respond.

  We got up on plane. We’d be well out of his range in a matter of seconds.

  The boat sputtered and the roar from the engines stopped. The nose of the boat came back into the water.

  I looked back. Ray was coming fast—straight at us. He fired over the bow. A bullet slammed through the front of the Donzi.

  “Get us the hell out of here!” I yelled.

  Bill tried firing the boat. It did nothing.

  “It won’t start!”

  Two more shots rang out. Rich scrambled down into the cabin for cover. The bullets flew over the top of us.

  “Get below!” I pulled Bill from his seat.

  When he was out of sight I gave the order.

  “Return fire!”

  We drew and fired on Ray. Bullets plugged into the bow of the Illusion. Ray’s head came into view over the windscreen of his boat. I took aim and squeezed the trigger. The bullet flew high. I took aim again. My target disappeared. Ray ducked his head out of sight. The Illusion continued toward us. He closed distance, now just two hundred yards away. We couldn’t see him or hit his engines. He kept coming.

  “This asshole is going to ram us!” Jones yelled.

  “Keep shooting!” I shouted.

  The sound of his engines wailed a hundred yards from our side. He didn’t slow or turn.

  “Shit! He’s going to hit us! We need to get those two out from below!” Hank yelled.

  I flipped open the cabin door. “Bill, Rich get up here. Get overboard!” They looked back at me confused. I waved at them. “Now! Move!”

  They took the few stairs up in a rush. A quick glance to their right was all that was needed for them to see the impending situation. Ray was just fifty yards away. They dove from the far side of the boat and swam.

  Jones dove from the back of the Donzi. I stayed aboard. I looked to Hank. He wasn’t getting in the water. I took hold of the handles on the back of the driver’s seat with both hands. Hank took hold of the steering wheel and got low. Ray’s boat was fifty feet away. He cut the engines—it didn’t stop his forward momentum. The bow of his boat came over the side of the Donzi. I braced for the impact. A sound of the two boats surfaces sliding against each other filled the air—the force of the impact came next. The Donzi lifted from the water. Hank was tossed from the steering wheel. I grabbed him by the back of his jacket. Our boat pushed sideways through the water. Just as the Donzi was about to roll and send Hank and I in, the momentum stopped. The bow of Ray’s boat loomed over us.

  Gunshots rang out. I didn’t have a visual on Ray, but saw the bullets plunge through the water next to Jones as he swam. Two more shots came. Ray was aiming at Bill and Rich.

  We needed to get his attention off of the guys in the water. I fired two shots up through the hull to where I guessed Ray stood. I looked to Hank. “Cover me.”

  “Where are you going?” Hank asked.

  “I’m getting on that boat. As soon as I’m back at the swim deck, fire a few shots to get his attention.” I dove in alongside Ray’s boat and pulled myself along the side with my left hand—my right held my gun. I had ten feet to go when the Illusion’s engines roared. Ray was backing the boat up. My feet swung out from underneath me as I was pulled through the water. Our backward progress stopped. I held my gun in my teeth and let go of the side. I swam for the swim deck and grabbed hold. We started forward. The Illusion began to drag me. I looked to Hank. He fired five shots at the Illusion. Ray slowed for a split second and returned fire. It was enough time for me to yank myself up on the deck. The engines moaned as they went back to full throttle. I stumbled back and caught myself on one of the swim deck’s handles. We were at full throttle away from the Donzi—away from Hank, Jones and my only backup.

  I grabbed hold of the metal bar on the back of the boat’s L-shaped love seat. Ray stood at the helm just twelve feet away. His back faced me. The Desert Eagle sat on the console. The gun held seven rounds with a standard clip. He’d fired at least double that. I had taken everything from his pockets back at the Bentley. I didn’t know where he was getting the extra ammunition. My gun was steadied at the top of couch. I took aim.

  Chapter 37

  “Kill the engine!” I shouted.

  Ray’s hands didn’t leave the wheel.

  “I said shut it down!”

  Ray looked back over his shoulder. The bow of the boat dipped and came up. His hand went for the gun. He spun toward me. I squeezed the trigger—twice in succession. A spray of red hit the ivory colored console of the helm. The gun dropped. My first bullet hit him in the shoulder, the second in the hand that held the Desert Eagle. Ray gripped his forearm and bellowed out in pain. Blood ran like a faucet from his contorted hand. I took two steps toward him. The barrel of my gun was pointed center mass. His eyes darted to me and then the Desert Eagle on the floor. It lay just a few feet from him. He went for it. I expected the boat to stop—it didn’t. I was on him in three steps. He fumbled the four pound gun in his right hand. He tried bringing it up for a shot. I got to him just in time to kick it from his grip. It
bounced of the closed cabin door and skidded backward toward the stern. I kicked him in the face. He sprawled to the port side foot well. I went to the helm to try to shut the engines down.

  A steering wheel, levers, gauges and a joystick spread out before me. I didn’t have the first clue how to kill the motor. I went for the throttle lever.

  From the corner of my eye I caught Ray bringing himself to a knee just a few feet away. I went over the top of the captain’s chair and retreated to the back of the boat. I needed to shut the motor down but wouldn’t risk being in close quarters with Ray. One quick shove and I’d be tossed in the water at thirty miles an hour.

  I kept my gun on him. The barrel of my Glock 22 was aimed between his eyes. I steadied myself on the rear love seat. The boat bounced from wave to wave continuing on its course out of the Bay.

  “Face down! Hands behind your head!”

  A smile stretched across his face. “You’re out of your jurisdiction, Asshole.”

  I reached into my back pocket and slid out my cuffs. “I said face down!”

  “You better just shoot me now. Make sure you kill me. It’s your only chance. There is no way in hell that I’m letting you put those on my wrists or take me in.”

  Ray got his other knee under him.

  “Stop moving!” I shouted.

  “You aren’t going to shoot me while I’m unarmed. Cops can’t shoot an unarmed man.”

  “There’s a gun laying right there.” I nodded to the Desert Eagle lying on the deck half way between Ray and me.

  “I gave you a chance to shoot me.” Ray stood.

  “Face down!”

  “I don’t think so.” Ray brought himself around the observer’s chair and squared himself to me.

  The threat of being at gunpoint was lost on him. He either thought that I wouldn’t shoot him or he didn’t care if I did. He clenched his right fist. Blood dripped from his left hand. Half of his little finger was gone. A two inch flap hung from his palm. He balled the bloody nub of a little finger into his palm and squeezed tight.

  “You ready, Asshole?” he asked.

  “Don’t move. I’ll put you down.”

  “Let’s find out.”

  He took two lunging strides at me. I fired twice into his chest. I expected him to drop. Two forty caliber slugs center mass would put down anyone—anyone but Ray. The bullets did nothing to slow his charge. He swung at me with his right. I ducked and took the force with my shoulder. The impact sent me to the other side of the boat. I bounced off the corner of the built in grill and fell to the ground in the small walkway that led out to the swim deck. I brought the sights of my gun back to Ray. He came with another right. I fired. I hit him—I didn’t know where. He spun back.

  I got my feet under me. Ray scrambled across the deck for the Desert Eagle. A trail of blood smeared across the floor behind him. I took a step toward him and a step to the right. Ray lay on his stomach. He took the gun in his right hand and started to roll onto his back. His head turned. I saw where I’d shot him. Half of his right cheek was gone. Blood ran from where the bullet entered under his chin. The barrel of his gun came into my field of vision.

  I squeezed my Glock’s trigger—click. Once more—click.

  Ray pointed the Desert Eagle at my head. I dropped and lunged at him just as he fired over my head. My body landed on top of his. I took the barrel of his gun in both hands and ripped it from his grasp. It slid across the floor of the boat toward the observer’s seat at the front. His right arm came up over my head and squeezed into the back of my neck. Ray’s arm shook behind my head. My face was buried in his bloody chest. He was trying to suffocate me. I felt myself being lifted up.

  Ray spun me around and got his elbow under my throat. His left arm pulled against his elbow for more leverage. He pulled back. My feet kicked at the corner of the love seat. He was choking the life out of me. I wouldn’t last twenty seconds. I reached back for his face. My hands pawed off of it. I went for his eyes. Ray’s head jerked away. My vision was going red. I tried to get a breath—I couldn’t. It didn’t matter. His arm was cutting off the blood flow to my brain. I’d be unconscious soon.

  My hand slapped off the side of his face. I felt warmth and wetness. Everything was getting dark. I dug my fingers in. They touched on something hard and sharp. It was Ray’s bullet shattered teeth. My fingers had found the exit wound from the shot to his face. I hooked my fingers into my thumb and pulled with everything I had left.

  I heard a noise as I faded out. As quick as I lost consciousness, it was regained. The noise grew. My feet touched down on the deck of the boat. The arm that had been choking the life out of me was now prying at my hand. The noise was Ray screaming in pain. I had a fistful of his cheek locked in my grasp. I gave it another yank and let go. He screamed into my ear. I spun back with my left elbow and connected with his temple. He dropped.

  I went for the Desert Eagle. I had no more interest in fighting. The gun was scooped from the deck. My backside pressed against the observer’s chair. Ray lay at the back of the boat against the love seat. I faced him. He put his mangled left hand on the cushion and pushed himself up. I stood. My knees absorbed each bounce of the boat. Blood ran from the hole in the side of his face. I could see his molars.

  Ray spit a mouthful of blood and smiled. “You ready for round two?”

  I’d shot his finger off, put a bullet in his shoulder, two more bullets in his chest and shot him in the face. He wouldn’t stop until one of us was dead. It wasn’t going to be me. Ray used the seat top as balance and squared himself up toward me again. “You’re going to have to fight, Pussy. You ducked under the last bullet. Why do you think I let you take the gun from me?”

  I wasn’t tossing the gun or taking his word for the amount of bullets left. If the gun didn’t fire, it was a four pound piece of steel that I could beat him with.

  Ray blew air through the hole in the side of his face. Red mist spattered out. He held his arms outstretched and came at me. I held the gun out with both hands, braced myself and squeezed the trigger. A flash of fire exploded from the gun barrel. The recoil threw my hands back. My ears rang.

  Ray staggered back two steps. His face wore a look of shock and panic. He stumbled backward off the wet bar. Ray reached out with his left hand in an attempt to catch himself on the love seat’s handle. His bloody hand slipped of the metal. He fell backward to the swim deck and rolled into the water. I rushed to the back of the boat to locate him in the water. Ray’s body appeared a few seconds later. He floated on the surface. I needed to get the boat of its course and circle back for him. Dead or alive, he was coming back with me.

  Chapter 38

  I took the controls of the boat and turned the Illusion around. I stayed at the same speed and counted off thirty seconds. Ray’s body was somewhere in the vicinity. I figured out how to shut the engines down and brought the boat to a stop. The boat sunk in and bobbed off the wake. I scanned the water but didn’t see him anywhere. The Air Force base sat to my north. St. Petersburg lay to the west. The land to the east was a half mile away. There was nothing in the waters between. Ray wasn’t swimming, he wasn’t floating.

  A boat came into view. As it got closer I spotted the familiar white and blue stripes of our Marine Unit’s Center Console Intrepid. It was a forty foot, modified, offshore fishing boat. The Intrepid was capable of doing seventy plus across the water. Outfitted with twin machine guns on the bow, its sole job was to chase down and take out fleeing boats.

  They approached off my stern. Normally, they ran two or three men aboard. As they got closer, I spotted at least four. They slowed, turned and came to a stop a few feet off of the swim deck. Hank, Jones and two officers from our Marine Unit, Iler and Wolf were on board.

  “Didn’t think you guys would come out this far.”

  “If one of ours is in danger, the whole jurisdiction thing can kiss my ass,” Iler said.

  Hank raised a foot up onto the side above the T in the Tampa Police graphic
s. “You alright? Where’s Azarov?”

  “I’m alright. He’s somewhere in the water right around here.”

  Hank looked left and right across the surface of the water. “Dead?”

  I nodded.

  Officer Iler came from the console. “Coast Guard’s search and rescue should be here in a minute,” he said.

  I nodded.

  “What happened?” Jones asked.

  I gave it to them in bursts.

  “You shot him four times?” Hank asked.

  “Six times. The last was with his Desert Eagle, center mass.”

  Hank and Jones looked at each other. “Desert Eagle, center mass, at five feet away?” Jones asked.

  “Something like that.”

  “Shark bait,” Jones said.

  “Where are the two from the speed boat?” I asked.

  “They stayed aboard—went under the hood to see if they could get it running.”

  “How did the Bill guy take what happened to his boat?”

  “Better than I would,” Jones said.

  “Yeah, he asked us if we thought his insurance would cover it. He went on to tell us how cool of a story it would make for his yacht club buddies,” Hank added.

  “Let’s hope he keeps that same attitude. Cap will have my ass if the department gets sued for a half million dollar boat.”

  Hank nodded.

  “Hey Wolf!” I called.

  He ducked his head out from the Intrepid’s console. “Yeah?”

  “You got an extra pair of binoculars on there?”

  He rummaged below the console and came up with a pair. He handed them off to Iler. Iler tossed them over to me.

  “Why don’t you guys cover some water around here. See if you spot anything. I’m going to get up on the bow and have a look around.”

  “Sounds good, Lieutenant.”

  I climbed up to the boat’s bow and put the binoculars to my eyes. I spent fifteen minutes scanning the waters around the Illusion, but didn’t spot Ray’s body. The Intrepid started with small circles around me and increased diameter. They were a quarter mile away by the time the Coast Guard boats came into sight.