Black wind

moment to rest. Fighting their way across the current, they had distanced themselves from the skiff by almost four hundred meters.
    “We can swim on the surface for the time being,” Dirk said between deep breaths. “Give us a chance to see what our friends are up to.”
    Summer followed her brother’s lead and rolled onto her back, kicking into a backstroke that allowed them to watch the distant catamaran as they moved farther across the river. Kang’s boat was idling near the skiff, its spotlights circling the immediate area around them. Shouting erupted from the catamaran and the boat suddenly raced downriver a short distance. Gunfire exploded again for a moment, then ceased as the boat stopped in the water.
    Tongju had raced the catamaran toward the two objects spotted floating on the water and watched with disdain as his gunmen blasted away at the empty life vests that Dirk had tossed into the water. The
    boat idled around the life jackets for several minutes, waiting for the two escapees to surface in case they were hiding submerged nearby, before resuming the search. Dirk and Summer struggled toward midriver as they watched the catamaran begin making a wide-circle search around the skiff and life jackets. With each loop around the still-drifting skiff, the catamaran’s pilot enlarged the circle in an ever-expanding spiral.
    “Won’t be too many more minutes before they work their way up and out our direction,” Summer lamented.
    Dirk scanned the watery horizon. They had worked their way about a mile into the river but were still barely a quarter of the way across the vast waterway. They could turn back and try for the nearest shoreline, but that would entail crossing the path of the advancing catamaran. Or they could continue with their original plan of traversing the river toward the lights on the opposite shore. But fatigue was beginning to creep up on them, hastened by their long immersion in the cool water. Another three-mile swim would be a tall order, made more difficult by the repeated submergings they would have to perform to avoid Kang’s boat. Whether they could in fact survive the game of cat and mouse with Tongju and his gunmen would be uncertain at best.
    But there was a third option. The small vessel with the colored lights that they had earlier noticed upriver was approaching on a nearby path about a half mile away. In the darkness, Dirk had trouble identifying the boat, but it appeared to be a wooden sailing vessel of some kind. A small red sail, revealed under the white mast light to be square shaped in dimension, was raised near the bow, but the boat didn’t appear to be moving much faster than the current.
    Dirk gauged the path of the boat and swam another hundred yards toward the center of the river, then stopped. Summer swam past before realizing her brother had halted.
    “What gives? We need to keep going,” she whispered after swimming back to him.
    Dirk nodded downriver toward the catamaran. The sleek vessel had
    arced well out into the river as it circled downstream. He mentally calculated the trajectory of the yacht if it held its current circular course.
    “They’ll be within sight of us on the next upriver pass,” he said quietly.
    Summer could see he was right. The bright beams of the searchlights would shine upon their position on the next loop. They would have to remain submerged for several minutes to guarantee their concealment.
    Dirk took a quick glance upriver. “Sister, I think it’s time for Plan
    B.”
    “Plan B?” she asked.
    “Yes, Plan B. Stick out your thumb and start hitchhiking.”
    The large wooden sailboat creaked lazily down the river, its foremast sail and a small auxiliary motor pushing it along just 3 knots faster than the current. As the vessel crept closer, Dirk could see that it was a three-masted Chinese junk of about twenty-five meters in length. Unlike most dilapidated sailing boats in this part of the world, the junk appeared to be maintained in pristine condition. A string of multicolored Chinese lanterns hung gaily from bow to stern, lending a party like atmosphere to the boat. Constructed entirely of rich teakwood, the highly varnished surfaces seemed to glisten under the swaying overhead lamps. Somewhere belowdecks, a pair of stereo speakers blared out an orchestral tune, which Dirk recognized as a Gershwin melody. Yet despite the festive atmosphere, there was not a soul to be seen on deck.
    “Ahoy! We’re in the water. Can you