A shape was barely visible in the dying glow of the flares. It was the form of a man. John Hawke stepped forward on the sloping deck. He was wearing a life jacket and carrying the wommera in his right hand.

“I heard the fuss you were making and decided I had better stick around,” Hawke said. “All that pounding and hammering.”

Hawke’s right arm swooped back, then snapped forward. A second dart flew toward Kannaday. It hit him in the right thigh. It pinched and the leg buckled. He caught the flagpole to keep from hitting the deck. He hung there while he removed the second dart. The bastard could have hit him harder. He was simply playing with the captain.

“I waited for you at the bow,” Hawke said. “I did not think you would make it out.”

“You waited until I was out of flares,” Kannaday said.

“A good security chief also knows when to make his move,” Hawke replied as he began walking forward. “It’s a shame you sent our men into the water, though. Not everyone has a life jacket, and it’s a long way to shore.” The wiry man leaned backward slightly as he approached. He remained surefooted on the sloping deck. “But it won’t bother your conscience for long. Like many of them, you will drown. There can be no other mortal wound. Otherwise, you would already be dead.”

Hawke was holding the wommera like a club. In a sinking ship, any number of objects could hit a sailor on the head and crack his skull. That was obviously the plan. To knock Kannaday out and then drown him.

Kannaday could not believe that he had underestimated Hawke again.

The captain had a problem and only a moment to solve it. His shoulder and leg had taken muscle damage from the darts. Hawke was uninjured. The security chief could probably overpower Kannaday. But if he turned to climb the rail, Hawke would reach Kannaday before he could get over.

Kannaday knew, of course, what he had to do. He had fought hard to regain some of his self-respect. He refused to surrender that. The captain of the Hosannah would not run.

The security officer was now a silhouette against the vivid splash of stars. Kannaday rested his lower back against the railing and raised his hands like a boxer. He kept his fists close to his chest. If Hawke intended to club him with the wommera, the captain wanted to try to block it. Hawke would probably go for the side he had wounded. That was why he had wounded it. Kannaday would be ready to twist and take the blow with his forearm.

Suddenly, from beneath the men, a third player entered the drama.

SIXTY - Osprey Reef Sunday, 2:46 A.M.

SIXTY

Osprey Reef Sunday, 2:46 A.M.