Deadly Stillwater

“Yours isn’t big enough for me, I’m sure,” was the tart reply, and only Mac saw her smile. “You think these guys will throw down?” she asked Mac.

“I can’t believe they wouldn’t,” Mac answered. “They’ve come this far. They’re not going to stop without a fight.”

Everyone was locked and loaded. Mac started south, “Riles, are you in position?”

“Copy, Mac, we’re just west of you.”

Mac slammed down the throttle and raced back under the bridge, angling the bow to the left, toward the river’s east side. Everyone crouched down behind him and braced themselves. Five hundred yards from the mouth of the channel into the little bay, Mac gave the order.

“ Now! Now! Now! ”

Struggling through the knee-deep water, Smith pushed toward the shoreline with Flanagan in tow, followed by Monica and Hisle. The two Muellers were further back, still in waist-high water. The kidnappers each had a gun in hand and a nylon bag of ransom money over their shoulders.

The fireworks show had started in Stillwater, accompanied by the occasional smaller blast from campsites south of their position. Then there was a different thumping sound.

Smith looked up.

The chopper dropped out of nowhere, painting them with a blinding light.

“ Get to shore! Get to shore! ” Smith yelled, firing up at the chopper.

“Mac, veer right, veer right. They’re all out of the boat to the left side of the cove!” Riles screamed. “The chief and Hisle are second and fourth from the front!”

Mac could hear the gunfire as he buried the throttle. “A hundred yards, we’re coming in the right side,” he yelled. “Hang on. It’s gonna be rough!”

Mac ducked his head down just over the steering wheel. The boat planed on top of the water, the prop just under the surface as he exploded into the cove beneath the chopper. Brown’s boat bobbed forty-five degrees to the left. The Simon Says hit a sandbar just beneath the surface, skipping into the air. “Hold on!” Mac yelled as the boat bucked left and, hit the water hard, mowing down one of the Mueller brothers just short of shore.

Mac pulled back on the throttle and pulled the wheel to the right just before the boat skidded hard into the shoreline, throwing everyone hard forward. The boat listed hard to the right, creating cover. Mac threw himself over the port side and scrambled to the bow as Lich and the Stillwater chief jumped out and worked their way to the stern of the boat. Fournier was right on Mac’s hip.

At the bow, Mac saw Brown moving to the right.

“Dean! Dean!” David wailed at his brother’s limp, floating corpse.

“Come on! Come on!” Smith yelled. Already on shore, he opened fire on the boat, trying to cover. He glanced right. Hisle and Flanagan were forty feet back in the water, hands still bound, but high-stepping toward the cigarette boat. Smith had pivoted slightly right to fire at Flanagan when his own body jerked hard to the left. He fell to the ground, a searing pain in his left upper arm.

Mac’s second shot hit Brown. He pushed himself under the bow and looked left. The chief and Hisle were running right at him. “Come on! Come on!” Mac yelled. He saw Monica nearly ashore, directly behind Flanagan and Hisle, firing. One shot caught Lyman in the back of his right leg, sending him face-first into the water.

Mac rolled once to his right and emptied his clip. One shot hit the woman in her right shoulder, knocking her back and exposing her whole body. Another shot hit her torso and blew her backward into the water. The chief stumbled past him, under the bow and to the cover of the other side of the boat.

“Go, Mac, I’ve got you covered,” Fornier yelled, firing.

Mac fished Lyman out of the water and dragged him the last twenty feet to the safety of the boat. Mac heard Lich yell, “He’s down! He’s down! They’re all down!”

The whole thing was over in less than twenty seconds.

“Mac!” the chief yelled. “The girls, we don’t know where the girls are.”

“Relax, Chief,” Mac replied with a broad small smile on his face as he leaned back against the boat. “We have them.”

“But…” the chief was astonished. “How? Boyo,” the chief started smiling, grabbing Mac by the scruff of his neck. “How in the hell did you do it?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Mac answered and then called Riles. “Pat?”

“Mac, everyone all right?”

“Yeah. Lyman’s hit in the back of his right leg. We’re going to need to get him out of here,” Mac reported. He pulled out a heavy-duty Swiss Army knife and cut the chief’s and Lyman’s hands loose. Then Mac rolled Lyman onto his stomach and cut his pant leg away to get a look at the wound. The hole was on the outside of the right thigh.

“How bad?” Lyman grunted, grimacing in pain.

“I’ve seen worse,” Mac answered as Lich handed him a hankie and he applied pressure. “We should get a tourniquet on this,” Mac said as he started to loosen his belt. “There should be a first aid kit in the boat,” he said to Fornier. “It’s down in the companionway. There should be towels down there as well, grab them.”

Fornier climbed into the boat.