Jack Beale 00 - Dangerous Shoals

formed into a ring on the cabin floor, and he put the fuel-soaked pillow in the forward cabin, also on the floor.
    The smell of diesel in the confines of the cabin was noxious and overwhelming. Kurt was about to open the can of sodium that he had stolen when he heard Jack move. He put it down, stopped, and leaned over Jack. He could see that Jack’s eyes were open, though far from clear. The smell of the diesel must have been like a toxic smelling salt. It was even beginning to make Kurt feel a little queasy. “You’re awake. Good. It’s always more satisfying if you can watch; otherwise there’s no passion.”
    Jack’s head began to clear. He fought back panic and fear as he stared into Kurt’s black, empty eyes. When Jack squirmed, he quickly discovered that movement was not an option. “Don’t waste your energy. Just relax. It’ll be over soon,” Kurt said in his most reassuring voice. Then, he turned from Jack and knelt down.
    Jack couldn’t see what Kurt was doing, so he listened. When he heard a dramatic increase in engine noise, he knew that Kurt had lifted the floorboard, exposing the diesel engine. He strained to twist himself around enough to see what Kurt was doing. The best he could achieve was a glimpse of Kurt’s back. He was on his knees, and from the way his body was shaking, he was working hard at something. “No! Don’t!” Jack screamed silently as he realized that Kurt was pulling the raw water intake hose off of the seacock. When he heard the sound of rushing water he knew that Kurt had succeeded in dislodging the hose and that he intended to sink Irrepressible . All Jack could do was kick his bound legs and make a barely audible moaning sound.
    The bilge pump kicked on, and began the losing battle to keep the ocean out. For the time being, the pump was robust enough to nearly match the amount of water coming in through the open seacock, but eventually the water would prevail. Of greater concern was the fact that without adequate cooling water for the engine, it was only a matter of time before the engine would overheat. Either it would catch fire, which would be the end, or it would simply seize up and stop. The batteries could only keep the bilge pump going for a limited time. Jack’s mind raced in panic. “And where was Max?” Then he realized that she must be driving the boat, which gave him some hope.
    Satisfied with his work, Kurt stood and Jack watched as he picked up what appeared to be a paint can. Then he noticed the warning symbols on the label. “Do you know what I’m going to do? Jack. Do you?”
    Jack could only look at him as he began opening the can. “This is sodium. Do you know what happens when sodium comes in contact with water? It burns, and if everything is right, it explodes.” Kurt dumped about half of the can’s contents into the ring that he had formed with the diesel-soaked towel. Then he moved into the forward cabin and dumped the rest onto the diesel-soaked pillow. Before returning, he looked inside the head. “Perfect,” he thought to himself.
    Jack heard him open the door to the head and go in, followed by a great deal of noise punctuated with much swearing. When Kurt came out of the head and returned to the main cabin, Jack could hear the sound of more water rushing into his boat. Now he knew that the bilge pump wouldn’t stand a chance and there was little time left. Kurt looked down at him and then into the bucket. An evil grin overspread his face before he began pouring the remaining bit of diesel over Jack. “I’m sorry to have to leave you, but I have a date with a lovely redhead. Ciao.”
    Jack tried to scream. He tried to move, but all he could do was wriggle a bit and watch as Kurt grabbed his bag with the disc and climb out the companionway.

CHAPTER 101
    AS SOON AS KURT was out of sight, Max jerked on the chain that held her to the wheel. All she got for her efforts was a searing pain shooting through her wrist. She winced and began to frantically look around the cockpit for something―anything―that she might be able to use either to free or defend herself. The contents of the locker were scattered about, but they offered little hope. She could see only rubber boat fenders, lifejackets, and ropes, and none of those were even in reach. She couldn’t see down into the cabin, but she could hear a lot of moving around.
    She yanked on the chain once more, and again was rewarded with searing pain. As she looked about, the only