[Chapter 100: The Crew Turns to Robbers]
At the front of the upper deck, Allison waved to the two without an ounce of embarrassment and asked, "Wanna join us?"
"You all go ahead." Hawke remained unbothered, giving Erica a knowing look as they made their way to the back deck together.
"Just like Hollywood," Erica whispered, admiring the scene.
They reached the end of the deck, sitting in the last two chairs, gazing up at the stars.
Not far ahead, they faintly heard some sounds.
The two figures morphed into one leaning against the railing as the other stood behind.
Erica openly enjoyed the show. "Didn't expect there'd be a free show tonight."
The shameless Hawke raised the binoculars he brought along. "It's even got a plot worthy of the San Fernando Valley."
Suppressing a laugh, Erica replied, "It's definitely more entertaining than the stars."
The performers on stage could vaguely see their audience enjoying the view. One lout even had the audacity to use the binoculars!
Such shamelessness!
Finally, feeling awkwardness fill the air, Allison picked up her clothes and dragged the man downstairs, but instead of returning, they headed to the outer walkway on the second deck.
...
It was then Erica noticed lights turning on in the side rear area. Looking over, she remarked, "Looks like another boat is coming."
Hawke recalled what Johnson had said: "It's the fuel replenishment ship."
Lights illuminated the rear deck as several crew members appeared, busying themselves.
Hawke glanced down to see the second mate on the back deck.
Before long, the first mate came over too.
Erica watched the back deck with a profession-related sensitivity, murmuring, "Just for refueling. Why are so many gathering at the back deck?"
Hawke lowered his voice, "Let's observe first."
Both wore dark jackets, hiding on the upper deck where it was hard for anyone to spot them.
...
The fuel supply boat slowly approached and parked alongside the aft deck.
Crew members from both sides became busier.
Fueling was underway, but several boxes filled with vegetables and drinks were also being moved onto the yacht's back deck.
Hawke lifted the binoculars, using the light to examine the crew on the supply ship and scrutinized the boxes closely. He leaned in to Erica, whispering, "Dwayne packed enough food and provisions for five days. There's no need for this."
Taking the binoculars, Erica inspected for a moment, her expression turning serious. "I smell drug traffickers."
Hawke turned on the recorder, angling the lens downwards.
Erica had her fishing harpoon slung on her wrist, holding her hunting slingshot tight.
Hawke worried she might act rashly and pointed toward the fuel ship. "There's a lot of them."
Erica merely prepared for the worst, nodding slightly.
...
On the back deck, the second mate asked the transferring crew member, "What's the amount this time?"
"Double from last time," the man replied.
With such a cargo involved, the second mate wouldn't dare take it lightly and motioned for three trusted associates.
Each opened a box to inspect the contraband hidden within the compartments.
The first mate quietly took two steps forward, observing quickly, calculating the quantity and value while the second mate conversed with the Mexicans.
O'Reilly arrived next to them.
The first mate gestured to the Mexicans with his eyes, indicating they'd discuss it later.
Matching the count, the second mate instructed to move the cargo into storage, locking the door once finished.
Once the fueling wrapped up, the Mexicans gradually returned to their vessel, and the fueling boat drifted away from the yacht.
...
As the lights dimmed, the first mate turned to the second mate. "Where's the money?"
Sensing trouble, the second mate stuffed his hand into his coat pocket. "We agreed that once we reached land, I'd pay you fifty percent more."
The first mate replied, "We want it all."
At this, the second mate pulled out his gun quickly.
But before he could even aim, one of the three associates waiting behind already had his firearm pressed firmly against the second mate's lower back. "Don't move!"
The second mate turned back, looking shocked at his own men. "You all..."
Another said flatly, "Sorry, boss, you offered too little, and they offered too much."
The first mate stepped forward, snatching the gun from the second mate's hands.
He had a plan for how to deal with this guy.
The yacht would arrive at Guadeloupe before dawn, and a few cuts to the second mate followed by a toss into the sea would surely make the sharks happy.
The seven men present could testify that the second mate fell overboard by accident.
Once they finished handling the cargo, they planned to leave Los Angeles immediately.
...
Meanwhile, on the outer walkway railing of the second deck, Allison and the young chef had reached the brink of a wild storm, their environment stirring up excitement.
Allison, akin to a washed-up Hollywood star, reveled in the thrills of the night and suddenly shouted.
"Who?"
The crowd on the back deck was tense, especially those who had betrayed the second mate with their emotions running high.
The gunman instinctively turned the barrel towards the sound and pulled the trigger.
Bang! Bang! Bang--
Gunshots rang out, bullets pinging off the ship.
In America, many people could distinguish gunfire.
Allison screamed and quickly turned, bolting down the second deck.
The chef was even faster.
...
The first mate shouted, "Stop shooting! Stop shooting!"
The gunman emptied the six-round revolver before finally ceasing fire.
"Damn!" the first mate cursed and ordered someone to tie the second mate up, gag him, and lock him in the cargo hold.
O'Reilly approached, gun drawn. "We're in trouble, the woman screaming was the most flamboyant girl on the yacht."
The first mate recalled that woman who had been flirting with men around. No doubt about it.
O'Reilly asked, "Boss, she saw everything, what do we do?"
What to do? The first mate wished to ask someone how to handle this but the other six men all looked to him, waiting for orders.
He knew he couldn't remain silent; at this critical moment, he had to assert control over them, pondering for a moment. "O'Reilly, you take three men armed to the lounge. Secure the satellite phone immediately, then head to the second and third decks, tie up the wealthy guests and the captain!"
He directed two others: "Bert, you get back to the engine room, guard it. Richardson, you come with me to the cockpit. The rest wait until we secure the ship!"
The crew, already tough characters, sprang into action.
...
A little earlier, on the upper deck, Hawke and Erica exchanged glances and ran towards the stairs.
Erica only said, "If we get captured, our lives will be in someone else's hands."
Hawke said nothing else, nodding slightly before rushing down the stairs.
As he reached the third floor, the master bedroom door suddenly swung open.
Johnson poked his head out just in time to find two sharp fish harpoons pointing at him, prompting him to raise his hands. "Guys, it's me."
He didn't know Erica, but he recognized Hawke. "What's going on? I thought I heard gunfire; it went off several times."
"The crew became robbers and are armed!" Hawke couldn't afford to waste time; he quickly jumped downstairs.
Erica followed closely.
Johnson hesitated momentarily and, barefooted, followed behind.
Hawke reached the stairway corner, raised his fist behind him, and Erica came to a stop.
Following Hawke, she lightened her steps and quietly crept downwards.
From the first floor, the rapid sound of footsteps signaled that trouble could come their way at any moment.
Hawke quietly made it to the second floor, signaling to Erica about their footing.
Erica nodded slightly, crouching down, using the angle to conceal her body.
Johnson caught up and pointed to his chest.
Hawke pointed towards the laundry room by the stairway, whispering, "Don't move until I start."
Johnson squeezed into the laundry room.
Hawke sidled into the hallway where a shared restroom awaited.
He hid by the restroom doorway, ready to fire with the fishing spears positioned on a rubber band.
The footsteps soon reached the stairway, sounding frantic.
Hawke could tell that they didn't have any professional training.
...
O'Reilly had the satellite phone while looking for spare keys to the hatch and led the second mate and three rogues upstairs.
The top thug turned the corner of the stairway, coming to the hallway, and abruptly noticed something shimmering brightly under the lights.
Before he could react, Hawke's close-range fish harpoon hit him right in the neck.
The thug gasped for breath, feeling weak as he toppled sideways.
Simultaneously, Erica stood up from the stairs leading to the third floor, her right hand pulling the rubber band on her harpoon taut.
A whooshing sound sliced through the air as the second crewman rushing up felt something collide against the back of his head.
Then his vision faded to black as he collapsed to the ground.
O'Reilly aimed his gun, but Johnson charged from the laundry room, grabbed the man with both hands, and threw him out. The guy's back hit the stair railing and his body was almost broken into pieces.
As the fourth thug attempted to retreat, Hawke rushed up, snatching a handgun from the floor and fired three rounds down toward the stairway.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The first two shots hit the thug's torso, while the final shot found its mark on his head.
Meanwhile, Johnson swiftly maneuvered behind O'Reilly, expertly twisting his arms behind his back, eliciting rapid breaths from him.
He glanced at Hawke and Erica a few feet away, holding their calm and not even breaking a sweat.
At that moment, the hallway fell eerily silent, void of screams or anyone checking the situation.
Erica picked up a handgun.
Hawke began checking the other three men, temporarily turning off his chest camera and stating, "They can't make it."
"Relax, everything will be fine," Erica reassured him.
O'Reilly overheard, his eyes wide as he stifled pain. "You guys are insane! How dare you kill someone!"
Hawke and Erica looked at the four handguns they'd brought, ignoring his outcry.
Hawke searched the three dead bodies to find a magazine.
"And where are your partners? Where are they hiding?" Erica squatted in front of O'Reilly, gripping his pinky finger.
O'Reilly resisted answering, wincing in pain.
Erica twisted his pinky, bending it at a ninety-degree angle.
O'Reilly screamed.
Hawke reminded Johnson, "This is the same hand he broke when he fell."
Johnson nodded, "I got it."
Erica grasped O'Reilly's second finger.
"Wait, wait!" O'Reilly thought to himself that he was just an occasional boat crewman trying to make some extra cash. How could they treat him so brutally? He needed a moment to breathe from the agony.
He feared having another finger broken and quickly replied, "There are three more guys: one is the engineer Bert, and the other two are in the cockpit."
Hawke asked, "Is the first mate in the cockpit?"
O'Reilly, thinking that Hawke knew about the first mate, assumed he was dealing with the FBI or the DEA and nodded repeatedly. "He's in cockpit! They were trying to take you guys hostage."
He even raised his voice, proclaiming, "I'm willing to become a witness!"
Erica pressed further, "And the other crew and captain?"
"The ones off duty? We added some special seasick medication to their Evian mineral water, they'll be out cold and won't wake up. The captain had nothing to do with this; he's too old to keep late hours," O'Reilly spoke rapidly, fearing he'd get another finger broken. "The captain's totally in the dark."
Hawke slipped out the magazine from his gun, checking the bullet count while saying, "Let's take back the ship. Prevent any desperate moves."
"I agree," Erica added.
Johnson picked up one of the handguns. "I'll go with you guys."
Hawke pointed his gun at O'Reilly. "Can I refuse?"
O'Reilly, realizing he'd better comply, said, "I'll do it."
Erica glanced at her compass. "The boat's heading south. Let's wrap this up and stop them."
Johnson rummaged through O'Reilly's pockets and found the satellite phone.
Erica took it, dialed a number, and spoke quickly.
Hawke glanced at her.
Erica stated, "We need to regain control of the ship."
Hawke aimed his gun at O'Reilly. "Get up."
...
In the cockpit, the first mate heard the gunshots.
Richardson pulled out his gun. "Someone's shooting."
The first mate strained to listen, noting that no further shots followed and said, "It's just O'Reilly warning them. There are four of them."
Richardson felt a bit more assured and set his gun aside.
Almost immediately, the first mate went silent, carefully contemplating their next actions.
If it came down to it, he'd steer the boat to Panama; he had connections there as well.
Additionally, there was the money aboard with the wealthy guests.
They would shake down every last cent.
As he pondered, there were knocks on the cockpit door.
O'Reilly's voice shouted from outside, "Boss, I've got everyone awakened and secured. Those three are watching them."
The first mate asked, "Did shots get fired?"
"A couple of idiots couldn't read the room," O'Reilly glanced at the men pointing guns at him and added, "I gave them a scare."
Hawke adjusted his recorder to capture Johnson and Erica better.
Richardson approached and opened the door just as Johnson charged in like a beast, crashing into him.
Both men tumbled to the ground, with Richardson serving as a makeshift cushion.
Just as Johnson was about to apply a chokehold, the first mate reached for his gun.
But Erica was faster, pivoting to the door with her gun gripped tight and pulling the trigger.
Three more shots echoed in the cockpit; the first mate collapsed, bleeding out, twitching.
On the floor, Johnson already had Richardson controlled.
Hawke tossed several zip ties to O'Reilly. "Go ahead, tie them up."
As O'Reilly began securing the men, he remained cautious under Hawke's watchful eyes.
Hawke handed duct tape to him.
O'Reilly quickly took it and tore off strips, sealing Richardson's mouth tight.
Johnson offered, "I've driven a yacht before. Should we halt?"
Hawke interjected, "There's still one person in the engine room. Don't stop the boat. Stay in the cockpit and guard it. Erica and I will handle him."
Erica didn't say anything but nodded gently.
"Let's go. Lead the way." O'Reilly had already shown the way once, this time without hesitation.
...
The trio reached the engine room, audible machinery operating within.
O'Reilly stood at the door, calling out, "Bert, it's me, O'Reilly, the first mate sent for you."
As the hatch opened, the engineer prepared to ask a question when a dark gun barrel appeared in front of him.
Erica coldly commanded, "Step out."
When the engineer saw Erica was a woman, he started to step forward, raising his hands to seize the gun.
A knee flew in violently, brutalizing his stomach before he could make a sound.
Before any cries escaped, Hawke's hand clinched his throat, cutting off airflow and turning his face crimson.
Erica searched him but didn't find a gun.
O'Reilly, without needing to be told, pulled out zip ties and bound the engineer, sealing his mouth for good measure.
Hawke examined the engine room, retrieving a handgun and a shotgun.
O'Reilly had mentioned their weapons were typically hidden there.
Once finished, Hawke instructed O'Reilly to check the cargo hold where they found the second mate tightly bound, mouth gagged.
Erica quickly located the intercom and called Johnson in the cockpit, instructing him to turn the boat back to Los Angeles.
Meanwhile, Hawke directed O'Reilly to collect the supplies sent by the fuel boat, personally helping secure O'Reilly as well.
With the immediate threat dealt with, the two breathed a bit easier.
Erica looked at the boxes, asking Hawke, "Does the recorder still have battery?"
Hawke held the recorder toward the boxes.
Erica opened one, tossing aside the vegetables and fruit until she discovered the compartment inside.
She removed the compartment, revealing vacuum-sealed plastic bags, each larger than her palm.
Taking one out, she placed it on top of another box and sliced open one side of the packaging.
Inside lay white powder.
Erica studied it closely, confirming, "Cocaine."
Hawke adjusted his angle for more light to shoot a clearer video.
Erica stripped away the compartments, enabling Hawke to film the inside plastic packages.
Just one compartment had thirty large packages.
Erica opened another box down to the compartments beneath the bottles, finding the same thirty plastic packages again.
Another box behind it yielded a similar result.
Hawke captured every moment.
The sheer number of packages astonished even Erica.
After finishing the shoot, Hawke turned off the recorder. "Congratulations, beautiful detective, you've cracked a major armed drug trafficking case."
The yacht came from Santa Monica, registered in Los Angeles, so the case undoubtedly fell to the LAPD.
Erica was unreserved. "No need for gratitude; this case can serve me well."
Outside, the sky was brightening gradually.
Once the people were awakened, they reacted with surprise and fear, with Johnson naturally assigned to calm them down.
Meanwhile, Hawke settled in the cockpit, supervising the captain as he piloted the ship back to Santa Monica.
*****
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