Page 41 of Oleander

Cam gripped the console as the boat struck a wave.

“Please tell me alligator labor law does not involve poultry.”

“Plastic lawn ornament. Long story.”

“Good. For a second I thought ethics had gotten complicated.”

The pursuit settled into layers. The Imperium led, bright and arrogant, running at eighteen knots. Burton’s security boat tucked into its wake. Miles behind, Luke’s two interceptors followed without lights.

Above, the drones traded positions to conserve power. Below, dolphins moved through darkness, hearing doors slam, pumps change speed, footsteps cross decks, and the distinctive clatter of cases being dragged aft.

At 2106, one of the dolphins broke formation and circled a point behind the yacht. Luke saw the behavior in his mind before the drone found the floating object.

“Something went overboard.”

Cam altered course while Hex maintained the track. The object proved to be a black trash bag weighted badly enough to float just beneath the surface. Two men hauled it aboard with a boat hook. Inside were shredded papers, three cracked phones, and a scorched solid-state drive sealed in a freezer pouch.

“Subtle,” Cam said. “Nothing says innocence like taking your electronics swimming after setting them on fire.”

Luke photographed the recovery, logged the coordinates, and transferred the bag into an evidence drum. Eric notified federal agents. Before the lid was secured, another alert came from the drone: movement on the Imperium’s lower deck, a crew member struggling with one of Burton’s armed men.

The long-lens image shook in the wind. The crew member pointed toward the engine room. The gunman shoved him against a bulkhead. Two more crew arrived, then backed away when the weapon became visible.

Hollis appeared above them in a white shirt, gesturing with both hands, his body language furious even without sound.

The dolphins supplied the missing layer. Alarm pulses vibrated inside the hull. One engine had developed an uneven rhythm. A pump cycled too fast. The yacht slowed by three knots, accelerated, then slowed again.

“He’s forcing them to run with a mechanical warning,” Luke said.

“Pattern recognition,” Hex replied. “Man sees a red light and assumes it’s applause.”

Luke looked through the binoculars at the Imperium and smiled, then chuckled to himself. Massive arms were moving slowly at first in the water, then helped along by one of the dolphins. Skull. Skull had gotten onboard as a mechanic, screwed with the engines and slipped into the warm gulf waters.

The FBI liaison called Luke directly. A magistrate had signed the seizure warrant. The Coast Guard cutter was changing course to intercept.

Luke’s teams were asked to maintain visual contact and preserve evidence. Rules of engagement remained defensive. Relief passed through the boats, followed immediately by a sharper focus. They no longer had to wonder whether authority would arrive. Now they had to ensure Hollis did not create a catastrophe before it did.

At 2231, Burton Drilling stock resumed trading and collapsed again. The network stopped expressing the decline in percentages and began discussing whether the company could open the next morning. Protesters filled the pavement outside its offices. Former employees called into broadcasts. Families from Platform Nine appeared together, holding Dorothy’s photograph beside photographs of the dead.

Then Voss released a video statement. His face remained shadowed and his location hidden, but his voice was unmistakable. He said Dorothy had anticipated retaliation. She had divided the evidence among attorneys, reporters, regulators, and people capable of protecting it. He confirmed that Hollis ordered surveillance of witnesses and destruction of company records after Platform Nine. More files would follow automatically if anyone tried to stop him.

The warehouse erupted over the radio. Eric whooped. Someone banged a mug against a desk. Cam grinned into the dark.

“Dead man looks annoyingly healthy.”

Luke did not celebrate. Voss being alive changed Hollis’s threat calculation. A frightened man ran. A cornered man destroyed. Hollis was both, and he owned a yacht carrying armed men, unknown evidence, and a crew he was already forcing to ignore safety alarms.

The Imperium altered course five degrees south. Eric compared the heading with weather, shipping traffic, and fuel range.

“Still consistent with Bermuda, but he’s angling around the cutter’s likely approach.”

Hex studied the security escort.

“His small boat is dropping back.”

The dark craft slowed until it lay between the Imperium and its pursuers. Its six passengers spread along the rails. The drone’s thermal camera showed long objects coming out of cases.

“They know we’re here,” Cam said.