Donovans 01 - Amber Beach

window of safety.
    The Tomorrow raced across the water. There were moments when it was more like riding a skipping stone than a boat, but it worked. The freighter began shifting out of dead center in their danger quarter.
    Even so, it was going to be close. Very close.
    The freighter gave three short blasts of its horn.
    “Stiff-necked bastard,” Jake muttered. “He’s got better radar coverage than we do. He could change course without endangering or even inconveniencing himself.”
    Obviously the freighter wasn’t going to do that. In fact, if it had changed course at all, the result was to bring the huge ship closer to rather than farther away from a collision with the SeaSport.
    Honor gripped the dashboard with one hand and the fixed armrest with the other. Even so, the force of the boat hurtling through the choppy water lifted her off the seat and slammed her back down with spine-rattling force. In tight silence she watched the freighter loom closer and closer on the radar.
    She could tell by the position of the throttle that the Tomorrow had more speed available, yet Jake didn’t use it. Before she could ask why, he spun the helm, sending the boat hard to the left. Something slammed against the hull. From the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of a dark shape sliding away in a boil of foam. A log.
    Jake spun the wheel back onto the old heading and gave the radar a flicking glance. Where there should have been one image, he saw two. The second one was much smaller, but still many times bigger than the Tomorrow.
    And it was heading straight at them.
    “Hang on,” he said grimly.
    “I am!”
    He slammed the throttle forward. The SeaSport’s bow exploded wave tops into wild sheets of spray.
    The radio crackled. Most of the words were drowned out by the noise of going too fast over choppy water.
    “ . . . Conroy. Do you read me, Jake? There’s a ship in the radar shadow of the freighter. Change course to . . .” The noise of the Tomorrow slamming into a bigger wave drowned out whatever Conroy was saying.
    Though Jake appreciated the warning, he didn’t have a spare hand for the radio right now. It was taking all of his skill to keep the Tomorrow right side up. Even the most seaworthy boat had its limits, especially at speed. He knew he was crowding the SeaSport’s.
    Sheets of spray drenched the windshield. Salt water overpowered the wipers for seconds at a time. It didn’t matter to Jake. He was running on radar, skill, nerve, and necessity.
    Honor didn’t bother screaming or pointing out the new blip on the radar screen. Obviously Jake had already seen it. There was no other reason he would have the SeaSport going flat out over choppy water. With unnatural calm she watched the radar screen. The gap they were racing toward closed in little jerks with each new sweep of the radar.
    The freighter leaned on its horn again. She looked out the window and saw an immense shape looming. Her breath locked in her chest. She couldn’t have screamed if she had wanted to.
    The Tomorrow flew over the chop and across the freighter’s bow with seconds to spare.
    No sooner had they cleared the freighter than a new threat leaped out. Jake had an instant to recognize the outline of a big Alaska seiner before he brought the bow around hard. The SeaSport skidded, jerked, and bit into the water again.
    They shot past the second boat. They were so close Honor could count the rust streaks streaming from the anchor chain. She knew she would be counting them in her nightmares.
    The seiner’s wake hit them like a fist, but Jake was prepared. He had already chopped back speed and angled the bow to minimize the impact. Even so, the boat lifted and dropped sickeningly, slamming into the surface of the sea as though it were concrete rather than salt water.
    Honor stared at the radar like a bird at a snake, waiting for the next piece of bad news.
    The screen was clear of everything but a small boat racing toward them from the solid mass of the island ahead. Even as she spotted the Coast Guard Zodiac, it must have spotted them. The radio crackled to life.
    Jake switched channels and picked up the microphone to answer Conroy’s query.
    “ Tomorrow here. No damage.”
    “Nice bit of driving,” Conroy responded. “Vasi’s seiner couldn’t see you.”
    “Didn’t the freighter warn him?”
    “From what I gathered while you were outrunning them, the freighter’s radar has been ‘spotty’ and no one on board the