Page 145 of The Session

“What if we had somebody meet us with one of the other boats that was already fueled?” Marnie asked.

“Can you trust anybody right now?” Mark asked.

“I don’t even know if we can trust the yacht’s crew,” Tru admitted.

“That’s why we need to leave right now on The Tactician,” Mark said.

“That still doesn’t solve the problem of what we do when we get there,” Marnie pointed out.

“We’ll figure that out on the way. The longer we sit here talking, the riskier it gets.”

“Mark, you don’t have to come with us, but you’re more than welcome to,” Tru offered.

“I didn’t have any other plans,” he said with a smile.

In truth, he’d known his fate was sealed the moment he told them about Diane. He hoped he was making the right choice.

While he wasn’t ready to defend his father’s innocence, letting Nathan Morris get away with his plan was worse. Mark could only imagine what someone like him would do with unrestrained access to the Vault and the darker divisions of Summit.

Pen Pal

Mark and Tru hurried to the tender to ready it while Max made a quick walk through the scoring session, thanking everybody, before heading to the yacht. He made a show of boarding it with Marnie, then they walked across to the other side of the vessel and hustled aboard the waiting tender while the captain spoke with the crew in the galley. It wasn’t the cleanest getaway, but given the ticking clock, it had to do.

Tru piloted The Tactician, a sixty-foot Sunseeker Predator, away from the dock with the running lights off until they were well offshore.

Out on the ocean, Tru pushed the throttle and the boat cut through waves, sending blasts of salt water across the windshield. When Mark wasn’t trying codes on Kevin’s phone, he kept watch with night-vision goggles, making sure they avoided both floating debris and any pursuers.

After half an hour, Lightman asked over the roar of the engines, “How are we doing on fuel?”

Tru studied the calculator that estimated what they would need based on the current conditions and their final destination of Biscayne Bay.

“One hundred and ten gallons. Not enough,” Tru replied.

Marnie poked her head up from the cabin, where she had been monitoring communications onshore.

“Bahamian police are at the resort now with an arrest warrant,” she announced.

“For who?” Lightman asked.

“Who do you think, genius?”

“I mean, just me?”

“Only you,” Marnie said.

“Well, they’re going to assume that you’re on board The Logician. Will they send boats to intercept?” Mark asked.

“Probably. They’ve got patrols everywhere, and the yacht’s not hard to miss.”

“What’s your captain going to do?” Mark asked.

“He has orders to ignore anything on the radio until he has visual contact with Bahamian authorities, then comply—but as slowly as possible.”

“Maybe we have some time. They’ll probably want to do a search. I guess that’s how it works. What do we do about the fuel situation?” Mark asked.

“There’s Chub Cay to the north and Pleasure Harbor to the south. That’s on the Grand Bahama Island,” Lightman explained.

“Who knows you best?” Mark asked.