The Judas Strain - James Rollins [156]
Ryder’s private bay was small, arched in steel, reeking of gasoline and oil. In the center rested what looked like the aluminum tracks of a roller coaster, consisting of a pair of cushioned rails, tilted at an angle and aimed toward an open hatch in the ship’s side. Beyond the hatch, the dark lagoon beckoned, brushed with sweeps of rain.
But it was what rested atop the tracks that continued to hold her partner’s full attention. “That is no goddamn boat,” Monk blurted out.
Ryder led them forward, hurrying. “It’s a flying boat, mate. Half seaplane, half jet boat.”
Monk gaped at the sight.
Lisa was no less awed.
Seated on the launch tracks, the craft looked like a diving hawk with its wings tucked back. The enclosed cabin ended in an aerodynamic point at the bow. Its stern supported two raised propeller engines. And over the top, two wings lay folded over the cabin, tips touching just in front of the upright tail section and propellers.
“She’s built by Hamilton Jet out of New Zealand,” Ryder said as he ran a hand along her hull and led them to the open side hatch. “I call her the Sea Dart. In the water, her twin V-12 petrol engines pump water from the front and shoot it out the stern’s dual nozzles. Once you get her up to speed, all you have to do is explode the hydraulics to snap wide the folded wings, and she sails into the sky…where her rear props keep her aloft.” Ryder patted its side. “She’s quick on her legs, too. Sky or water. Clocked her airspeed up to three hundred miles per hour.”
Ryder held out a hand toward Lisa. He helped her up the steps beside the launch track. She ducked into the cabin. It was not that much different from a Cessna: a pair of seats for a pilot and copilot in front and four more seats in the back.
Ryder climbed in behind her and scooted forward to settle into the pilot’s seat. Monk clambered in last, closing the hatch.
“Strap in!” Ryder called out.
Monk took the seat nearest the side hatch, ready to haul Susan inside when they reached the beach. Lisa climbed forward and took the seat next to Ryder.
“Hold on,” he said to her.
Ryder triggered an electronic release, and the Sea Dart rolled smoothly down the inclined tracks and dumped into the lagoon with a slight jar.
Water washed over the windshield as the boat’s bow bobbed deep.
Lisa immediately heard the rumble of engines behind her, throaty and growling with horsepower. She felt it in the seat of her pants, too.
The Dart began to glide forward across the water with a gentle burbling from the stern. Rain rattled in fits and splashes over the top of the cabin.
“Here we go,” Ryder mumbled, and throttled the speed.
The boat lived up to its name and shot like an arrow across the storm-swept water, throwing Lisa back into her seat.
Behind her an appreciative whistle flowed from Monk.
Ryder angled the boat, skimming over the water as if on ice. He sailed the boat around the cruise ship’s bow, a gnat before a whale.
Lisa stared up at the mighty ship. Away from the gunshots and screams, the Mistress of the Seas looked peaceful, gently aglow in the storm’s gloom.
But she knew the ship was anything but peaceful.
As she settled back, she could not escape a slight twinge of guilt. For Jessie, for Henri, and Dr. Miller. And for all the others. She still felt like she was running from a fight, abandoning the others for the sake of her own skin.
But she had no choice.
Ryder swung the boat and aimed for the island, where they were to rendezvous with Susan. The boat sped toward the expanse of dark jungle, trimmed by a narrow beach.
She silently repeated Henri’s last words to her.
The cure must be taken beyond the Guild’s reach.
Lisa watched the jungle swell ahead of her, the beach stretch wide.
They could not fail.
5:50 A.M.
RAKAO WATCHED THE strange craft sweep around the cruise ship and speed straight toward his location. Through his infrared binoculars, the boat was a hot crimson smear across the colder water.