Pitt and his son kept on running. The forward gangway was still in place, so they still had a chance to get aboard, if not hold its bowline. That possibility evaporated when the crewman slipped the line off its bollard, then gazed toward the mouth of the inlet. A small outboard motor could be heard over the drone of the Adelaide’s warming engines. As Pitt and Dirk hustled along the length of the big ship, they saw the source.

It was Summer, piloting boat 3. With her were four or five bedraggled men, lying in the bottom of the boat.

The crewman on the dock watched a moment, then kicked the bowline into the water. As the boat neared the dock, he calmly removed a holstered pistol and took aim at Summer.

A rapid peal of gunshots rang out as a half dozen bullets tore into the crewman’s back. At least two shots had come from Dirk’s SIG Sauer, the rest from Pitt’s assault rifle. The crewman spun and squeezed off a stray shot at his attackers, then collapsed dead.

A second later, a screech and a loud crash filled the air.

“She’s under way!” Dirk shouted.

Gomez had engaged the engines and was pulling away from the dock. The noise had come from the gangway, which skidded off the edge of the dock and slammed against the hull, dangling from its deck mountings.

Summer drove the inflatable alongside the dock as the ship pulled away. “A containership came in and rammed the Coletta,” she yelled to Pitt and Dirk. She had sped over in the inflatable and fished out the survivors as the containership sailed away. “I’m pretty sure they picked up Bolcke. It might have been the Salzburg.”

A flood of thoughts filled Pitt’s mind. If Summer was right, the Sea Arrow’s plans and motor would be aboard. And possibly Ann as well. The ship would have to be stopped before it could escape the canal.

He spoke quickly to his kids as he watched the moving Adelaide. “Dirk, run down to the end of the dock. Summer, keep the engine running, I’m coming aboard.”

He strapped the assault rifle over his back and dove off the dock. He hit the water a few feet from the inflatable but stroked toward the ship. He couldn’t match speed with the fleeing vessel, but he had a second target in mind: the ship’s bowline, dangling through its scupper and dragging through the water. He snagged the thick line, then slid along its length until he reached a heavy looped end. A smaller messenger line was attached to it, and he tossed that line to one of the men in the inflatable.

“Stay with the ship,” he yelled to Summer, grabbing the side of the inflatable as she wielded it around and chased after the vessel.