They’d run headfirst into an entirely overlooked obstacle this morning. With the weekend in full swing, the lake’s entire boat-rental inventory had been reserved. Every marina they’d called reported the same thing. All boats had either been checked out yesterday for the weekend or would be picked up today. When they struck out with the last marina, Rich had them hit the list again, this time offering five hundred dollars to bump their name to the top of the cancellation list—cash deliverable within the hour. Five out of the six marinas took him up on the offer, and the team split into three groups to make good on the payment. By midafternoon they had two pontoon boats, but no speedboat, which represented a problem.
Graves and Gupta needed a speedboat to launch the drone, since it had also become clear over the course of the day that their only other launch option would be a deserted stretch of rural road west of the conservation area, which would divert at least one tactical operative from the primary mission. At maximum throttle, the speedboat would serve as a stationary runway, providing the necessary lift for the drone to take to the sky. Retrieving it would be a different story altogether. Graves and Gupta could glide it to a landing on any hard, packed surface and grab it later. Or just ditch it and move on. It would all depend on how the mission unfolded.
As the hours dragged on, the last team gave up on the idea of renting a boat and had started making hard inquiries about paying cash for a few inexpensive speedboats advertised at some of the marina stores. They were in the process of convincing one of the owners to drop everything and trail the boat to the lake, where they’d pay cash on the spot if he could demonstrate that the boat worked.
Marnie was asleep on the other settee. She’d been out for a while now, having tipped her ball cap over her face about an hour and a half ago. Devin got up and put one of the beach blankets they’d purchased this morning over her legs so she didn’t wake up with a sunburn. She stirred for a moment and went still. He’d kill for a nap right now, or a swim to cool down, but he didn’t want to wake Marnie. Maybe he could quietly slip into the water for a few minutes?
Devin took off his shirt. He made his way to the platform at the back of the boat and had just started down the ladder when a pontoon boat burst into the Woods Hollow at full speed, Rich and his team hooting and hollering the entire way to Devin’s anchorage. Marnie bolted upright, looking at him, confused. He quickly climbed back on deck and grabbed the railing to steady himself before the other boat’s bow wave hit.
“Hang on!” he said, worried she might topple off the couch.
She grabbed the railing above the cushion as the wave rocked the boat—nowhere near as forcefully as he had imagined. A pontoon boat was, after all, one of the most stable platforms on the water. Marnie yawned and stretched as Rich swung back around and idled his boat alongside.
“Do you think one anchor will hold both boats?” asked Rich.
“I’m not the expert,” said Devin, glancing toward Marnie.
“We didn’t cover pontoon boat anchoring in the Marine Corps,” she said. “But I think we’d be better off swinging around on one anchor than two. And there’s no breeze to speak of, so I think one will do it.”
Devin reached off the port side to grab the other boat. Marnie leaned over the couch and did the same, the two of them keeping the boats in place while Jared and Emily tied them together. Rich killed his engine and wiped the sweat off his brow. Scott immediately went to work on the pontoon boat’s canopy.
“Sorry about the dramatic entry,” he said. “Something about boats brings out the kid in me.”
“I believe the term you’re looking for is immature jackass,” said Jared. “He was like that the entire trip down. Not kidding. We’re carrying several life sentences in weapons and ammunition—and he’s weaving around like a drunk.”
“He’s not driving to the infiltration point,” said Emily. “Period.”
Rich shrugged. “It was fun while it lasted. Looked like you were going for a swim?”
“I was thinking about it. I’m like fifteen minutes from a reactor core meltdown.”
Jared hopped on board, taking shelter under the canopy. “I wouldn’t know, since we had a twenty-mile-per-hour wind and lake spray hitting our faces for the past hour.”
“These things move faster than I thought,” said Devin. “I saw people skiing and tubing behind them.”
“Yeah. I had originally envisioned three speedboats, mostly because I don’t know a damn thing about lake recreation,” said Rich. “But these are actually better overall. More room for gear, and they can navigate shallower water. We still need a speedboat to launch the drone. Gupta isn’t confident twenty miles per hour is fast enough. I think it is, but he’s not convinced—and the drone surveillance is critical.”