Page 22 of V-Day
6.
THE BIG LAUNCH WAS ONEof at least four boats Adán could see dotting the blue water between the end of the long jetty and the horizon. He didn’t pay it much notice, for most of his attention was on the conversation in the room behind him.
Minnie and Téra and Rubén Rey were discussing security. Rey wasn’t happy about the current arrangements. Minnie, who had been thrust into the role of running Vistaria’sterra cognitahere on the Mexico coast, was insecure enough in her decisions to defend them strenuously.
The launch, instead of following the general direction into the harbor at Acapulco, veered off in a sharp line which would bring it directly to the end of the jetty. It picked up speed, a white bow wave forming beneath the prow. Around it, early morning sunlight sparkled on the pristine blue water. The sunlight also bounced off the front windows of the cruiser, glinting and hiding anything behind them.
Adán stiffened, gripping his cane. The guards on the jetty also snapped to attention, their heads turning.
“Someone’s coming,” Adán said. “I don’t recognize the boat.”
The conversation halted.
“Let me see,” Minnie said. He heard her chair squeak as she turned it.
“What’s the model and color?” Rey demanded, although he didn’t shift from his position in the reclining rocker. Hauling an extra forty pounds of plaster and steel splinting everywhere one went would make any man reluctant to move if he could avoid it.
Minnie stepped up beside Adán and raised the wooden blinds for a better view. “Where…oh, I see it,” she murmured. Then, “It’s not one I recognize, either.”
“It’s a Bertram 61-foot cabin cruiser,” Adán said. “Dark green trim. Newer model.”
“Not one of ours,” Rey said, his voice sharp.
The sentries on the jetty, who were at a better angle to see the open deck at the back of the cabin, were moving down the jetty to where the launch was aiming. They were bringing their rifles off their shoulders. They didn’t recognize the boat, either.
“Coming in fast,” Minnie observed.
“Too fast,” Adán said. He turned as quickly as his leg would let him to glance at Rey. “How is the alarm raised? What’s the disaster signal?”
Rey struggled to get out of the recliner. “The fire alarm. It’s not wired into the city grid anymore. It will be heard all over the house.”
“Téra, go,” Adán urged the woman sitting on the upright chair beside Rey. She lurched to her feet and ran from the room.
Rey swore as the chair remained stubbornly reclined, the footrest up, which wouldn’t let him get out.
Adán swung his cane, jammed the rubber-capped end onto the footrest and shoved it. It folded back into place, bringing the chair upright.
He turned to Minnie. “Evacuate. As many as you can, as fast as you can. Don’t argue with me, Minnie. Go now.”
Far below, in the bay, came the sound of automatic rifle fire. It was the heavy coughing sounds combat weapons made, when heard from a distance.
Minnie’s face paled. She nodded and hurried away, not quite running.
As the door closed behind her, the shrill clatter of an old-fashioned bell fire alarm sounded, echoing through the old house.
Adán helped Rey up. “What’s the strategy?” He spoke loudly over the shrill alarm.
Rey glanced at him as he got his crutches beneath him. “You’re not—”
“Let’s not have this argument again. You can’t even walk, Rubén. Where are the spare weapons? What’s the plan?”
Rey licked his lips.
Sound of panic and movement came to Adán. The house was stirring. Not nearly fast enough, though. Even he, with his civilian sensibilities, recognized that. He whirled back to the window and looked out.
The launch was almost at the jetty now. Gray uniformed Insurrectos stood on the deck, armed and firing, as the launch turned broadside to the jetty. The sentries on the jetty were lying down—either brought down by rifle fire or prone to make themselves less of a target as they fired back.
There were only three of them firing as far as Adán could see. “They won’t last long down there,” he said, his gut tightening.
