Off Course Read Online Free
Author: Glen Robins
into the wall on his right, causing his world to go dark.
Three more gunmen stood on deck with Uzis aimed at the other four crew members and the Captain. The Admiral Risty had not yet cleared the harbor, but these men boldly displayed their hardware, apparently unafraid of anyone. The gunman closest to the Captain directed him to move out of the way. The green-shirted man fiddled with the instruments in the cockpit for a moment, then pointed to a spot on the Captain’s GPS map. “We go there. Now,” he demanded.
“Panama? You want to go to Panama?” asked the Captain.
“Yes. We go now.”
“OK, you’re the one with the gun. But you know it will take a week or more, don’t you?”
The lean, long-haired one standing to the Captain’s right cocked his head slightly. “You go faster. This boat very fast. You go faster. Three days.” His face was like stone and his eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses. Every movement was calculated and efficient. Every word carried meaning and consequences.
The Captain looked from one armed man to the other, studying their expressionless faces. He had no idea what they might do, but he had to set the right expectations from the start. He knew mean men and he knew they had to be handled with the right balance of firmness and cooperation. It was important to set the boundaries early in these situations, so the Captain held silent for a long moment, showing no fear and no desire to acquiesce to their demands. “That depends on the wind, you know?” he said, waving a hand in the air and looking at the sky around them. “No wind, no going faster.”
It was a rather surreal scene. In a matter of seconds these four highly trained, heavily armed Asian mercenaries took control of the Admiral Risty and altered its course and the lives of everyone onboard.
Chapter Two
La Jolla, California
June 14, 6:08 a.m. Pacific Time
Dr. Emily Burns stood in front of the large plate-glass window in her dining room, staring out over the fog covered Pacific Ocean, which stretched to the horizon like an endless, gray burber carpet eighteen floors down and across the road. She dabbed her face with a towel after her morning run. As she drank from her sport bottle and pulled her sandy hair from its ponytail holder, she once again found her mind reeling over the tumultuous orbit of her dear friend Collin Cook.
Her life had not been the same since he reentered it. All too often, absentminded day dreaming interrupted her problem-solving thought trains. Collin was indeed a problem that needed fixing, but there seemed to be no obvious or scientific solution, unlike the problems she worked on professionally.
A mix of hope and mourning occupied the space in her brain that used to try to unravel the mystery surrounding him and his disappearance. Since he had been reported missing and presumed dead by the Coast Guard over a week ago, Emily’s heart had been troubled. The account on the FBI’s website detailed the circumstances surrounding his disappearance at sea, but she hadn’t yet fully accepted it as truth. Perhaps part of her doubt came from Collin’s mother, Sarah Cook, who was certain Collin was as alive as she was. Sarah had almost convinced Emily to believe. But Emily, the scientist, was trapped in the void between theory and proof. Sarah had a theory and the government lacked evidence to prove otherwise. What was she to believe?
Her machinations and her breakfast were interrupted by a call from an unfamiliar number originating from San Francisco. Despite her initial hesitation, she answered it.
“Dr. Burns, this is Special Agent Reggie Crabtree from the FBI. I would like to ask you a few questions about your friend, Collin Cook. Is now a good time to talk?” said a deep, sincere voice.
Astonished, she balked at the intrusion. It was 6:08 a.m., hardly a good time for anyone to be calling, let alone a government agent who, for all she knew, played a part in Collin’s death and may
Three more gunmen stood on deck with Uzis aimed at the other four crew members and the Captain. The Admiral Risty had not yet cleared the harbor, but these men boldly displayed their hardware, apparently unafraid of anyone. The gunman closest to the Captain directed him to move out of the way. The green-shirted man fiddled with the instruments in the cockpit for a moment, then pointed to a spot on the Captain’s GPS map. “We go there. Now,” he demanded.
“Panama? You want to go to Panama?” asked the Captain.
“Yes. We go now.”
“OK, you’re the one with the gun. But you know it will take a week or more, don’t you?”
The lean, long-haired one standing to the Captain’s right cocked his head slightly. “You go faster. This boat very fast. You go faster. Three days.” His face was like stone and his eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses. Every movement was calculated and efficient. Every word carried meaning and consequences.
The Captain looked from one armed man to the other, studying their expressionless faces. He had no idea what they might do, but he had to set the right expectations from the start. He knew mean men and he knew they had to be handled with the right balance of firmness and cooperation. It was important to set the boundaries early in these situations, so the Captain held silent for a long moment, showing no fear and no desire to acquiesce to their demands. “That depends on the wind, you know?” he said, waving a hand in the air and looking at the sky around them. “No wind, no going faster.”
It was a rather surreal scene. In a matter of seconds these four highly trained, heavily armed Asian mercenaries took control of the Admiral Risty and altered its course and the lives of everyone onboard.
Chapter Two
La Jolla, California
June 14, 6:08 a.m. Pacific Time
Dr. Emily Burns stood in front of the large plate-glass window in her dining room, staring out over the fog covered Pacific Ocean, which stretched to the horizon like an endless, gray burber carpet eighteen floors down and across the road. She dabbed her face with a towel after her morning run. As she drank from her sport bottle and pulled her sandy hair from its ponytail holder, she once again found her mind reeling over the tumultuous orbit of her dear friend Collin Cook.
Her life had not been the same since he reentered it. All too often, absentminded day dreaming interrupted her problem-solving thought trains. Collin was indeed a problem that needed fixing, but there seemed to be no obvious or scientific solution, unlike the problems she worked on professionally.
A mix of hope and mourning occupied the space in her brain that used to try to unravel the mystery surrounding him and his disappearance. Since he had been reported missing and presumed dead by the Coast Guard over a week ago, Emily’s heart had been troubled. The account on the FBI’s website detailed the circumstances surrounding his disappearance at sea, but she hadn’t yet fully accepted it as truth. Perhaps part of her doubt came from Collin’s mother, Sarah Cook, who was certain Collin was as alive as she was. Sarah had almost convinced Emily to believe. But Emily, the scientist, was trapped in the void between theory and proof. Sarah had a theory and the government lacked evidence to prove otherwise. What was she to believe?
Her machinations and her breakfast were interrupted by a call from an unfamiliar number originating from San Francisco. Despite her initial hesitation, she answered it.
“Dr. Burns, this is Special Agent Reggie Crabtree from the FBI. I would like to ask you a few questions about your friend, Collin Cook. Is now a good time to talk?” said a deep, sincere voice.
Astonished, she balked at the intrusion. It was 6:08 a.m., hardly a good time for anyone to be calling, let alone a government agent who, for all she knew, played a part in Collin’s death and may
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