Chapter 37 - The Viper's Last Strike
I tore open the hidden lining inside the back cover of the Sovereign Fleet ledger, exposing the slim ceramic micro-transmitter embedded in the binding. It was the master override developed by my late father-in-law's original maritime engineers—a safeguard designed to shut down any vessel registered to the Vance-Caldwell line in case of mutiny or piracy.
"How do we link it?" Gordon yelled, keeping his weapon steady as the yacht rocked violently against the swells.
"The external auxiliary diagnostic port is near the salon threshold!" I cried out.
Gordon looked at the harbor officers who had managed to board with him. "Secure Apex and the girl! Eleanor, with me!"
We sprinted through the spray toward the shattered glass doors of the salon. Inside, the luxury interior was a disaster of overturned crystal decanters and sliding leather furniture. On the bulkhead adjacent to the bridge, a small brass plate concealed the ship’s primary computer junction.
I jammed the ceramic override module directly into the terminal port.
Instantly, the yacht’s main bridge console flickered red, and an automated klaxon began to wail across the ship: *SYSTEM OVERRIDE ENGAGED. DUAL PROPULSION SHUTDOWN INITIATED.*
Inside the bridge, Arthur Vance pounded his fists against the glass, his face twisted in disbelief and horror as the engine throttles lost all hydraulic pressure. The massive diesels choked, sputtered, and died. The steering rudder locked dead-center. The mega-yacht lost all forward momentum, drifting harmlessly to a stop a mere fifty yards from the jagged teeth of Blackthorn Reef.
With the engines dead, Gordon breached the bridge door with two powerful kicks.
Arthur Vance stood behind the helm, his gray eyes burning with venomous hatred. Slowly, he reached into his coat pocket.
"Don't do it, Arthur," Gordon warned, raising his rifle. "It’s over."
Vance pulled out a gold-plated fountain pen, tossing it contemptuously onto the dashboard. "You think you've won, boy? You think this ends because you stopped an old man on a boat?"
"It ends because you're out of moves, Arthur," I said, stepping onto the bridge beside Gordon. "The federal marshals have already seized your accounts in Zurich and the Cayman Islands. Your board of directors voted you out three hours ago based on the files I delivered to the Securities Commission. You are ruined. Penniless. A disgraced fugitive."
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Arthur looked at me, a ghastly smile touching his lips. "You are an exceptional woman, Eleanor. But you forgot one thing about men who build empires."
He reached behind the helm console, pulling an emergency manual distress flare from the safety rack. With a savage grin, he struck the cap, igniting a blinding, three-thousand-degree phosphorous flame, and hurled it directly into the open fuel-vapor intake line of the engine room!
