A few minutes later, the white panel van pulled in, and two large black men jumped out.

“You take care of the drivers?” Pablo asked.

The first man nodded. “Clarence cuffed them together around a big oak off the highway. Some farmer will find them in a day or two.”

“Good. Now, let’s get to work. I’m on a tight schedule.”

The two hired thugs pulled away the tarps covering the Sea Arrow’s motor. Then they donned heavy gloves and went to work on the bales of hay. Clarence started up the forklift, and using an attached device called a bale squeeze, he began hoisting blocks of multiple bales onto the flatbed. The second man stood on the bed, guiding the bales into place around the motor.

Meanwhile, Pablo unhitched the truck from the flatbed. He parked the truck off to the side and returned with the other big rig, a blue Kenworth. In ten minutes he had the new truck hitched to the trailer. He scrutinized the flatbed for a second GPS tracking device. Finding none, he swapped the rear license plate.

The other two men had nearly finished building a wall of hay around the Sea Arrow’s power plant. Pablo helped them pull a tarp across the top of the bales and tie it to the sides of the trailer, completing its disguise as a hay truck.

Clarence, the larger of the two men, pulled off his gloves and approached Pablo. “That concludes our part of the job,” he said in his raspy voice. “You have our pay?”

“Yes,” Pablo said. “And you have the plans?”

“In the back of the van. Along with an added present for you,” he said, grinning.

“Bring the documents to the truck. I’ll get your money.”

Clarence opened the back of the van and pulled out the plastic bin containing Heiland’s supercavitation plans. He followed Pablo to the Kenworth and placed it on the passenger seat. Pablo reached behind the seat and handed the hired thug a thick envelope. The big man ripped off one end, revealing several bound stacks of hundred-dollar bills.

“My, that does look pretty.” He folded the envelope closed. “Now, if you’d be kind enough to retrieve your gift, we’ll be on our way.”

Pablo gave him a puzzled look. Clarence jerked his thumb toward the van and led Pablo to the open back doors, where the other man stood, smiling.

As Pablo peered past him into the van’s interior, his eyes flared in anger. Coiled on the van’s floor was the bound-and-gagged Ann Bennett.

A look of rage seared her face until her eyes met Pablo’s, then the shock of recognition hit home. The Colombian terrorist was the last person she expected to see here. Her brazenness evaporated, and she wriggled farther into the confines of the van.

Pablo turned to Clarence. “What is she doing here?”