Policing, Alaska style, con’t.
The Bay Rover speeded up. Forgetting where he was, Liam yelled, “Faster!”
“We’re almost up on the step as it is,” Prince yelled back. “We go any faster we’ll take off, and there’s no room!”
Larsgaard looked over his shoulder, saw the Cessna bearing down on his port stern and pointed the bow of the Bay Rover toward the entrance of the breakwater.At that moment another boat, a Grayling bowpicker returning to its slip from the fuel dock, crossed the bow of the Bay Rover.Its skipper stared at the oncoming boat with the float plane in hot pursuit, mouth open and apparently incapable of thought or action.Larsgaard heeled the Bay Rover hard aport and slammed the engine into neutral and then reverse, at the same time Prince cut the throttle on the Cessna, abruptly slowing their forward motion.
That was all it took. Liam’s hands lost their grip on the strut and he was catapulted off the float and onto Larsgaard’s deck, which was passing inches in front of the Cessna’s still rotating propeller. He retained just enough sense to tuck and roll, and everything would have been fine if his somersault hadn’t achieved momentum and perpetuated him over the opposite gunnel, which caught him painfully in the small of his back but didn’t stop him going over the side.
The cold, dark water of Kulukak small boat harbor closed over his head, and for a moment all he could think of was what the salt water was going to do to his freshly-cleaned and only other uniform. Son of a bitch.
Excerpt from the second Liam Campbell novel, So Sure of Death. I’m working on the fifth book in the series now.
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