Gene reached up and touched his ear. His ear bead wasn't there. That's not g– Renner's knuckles crashed into his nose. Blood sprayed across his face, but he took the punch and wrapped with his arms, crushing Paul Renner in a vise-like bear hug. Renner punched at his abdomen viciously, hitting the areas that were least protected by the Kevlar vest. Gene ignored the pain and squeezed harder. He felt rather than heard a rib shift, then crack. Fists rained down like a rockslide, and his entire body burned. He squeezed harder, trying to crush the life out of the killer. Another rib cracked. Renner gasped in pain.
Renner stomped on Gene's injured foot. The FBI agent's strength left him as pain shot up his leg. He stumbled to one knee and was rewarded with a snap-kick to the face. He rolled with it, and through bloody eyes saw a harpoon gun on the deck just a few feet away. He scrambled across the deck and almost had it when Renner stomped on his fingers. He barely managed to flatten his hand before the shoe slammed down. The agony threatened to overwhelm him. He pulled his hand in, and suffered another kick to the face for his efforts. This time his nose broke, and he saw stars.
Gene tried to shake off a delirious haze. Get up or get beaten to death. He could barely see. He tried to stumble to his feet, and Renner clubbed him across the back with something heavy and wooden. He fell back to his knees. Another swing clipped him across the back of the head, but he managed to turn the blow with the meat of his wrist. He stumbled to the side of the boat, trying to get overboard.
Renner smashed the stock of the harpoon gun into Gene's ankles. Gene went down again, hitting his head on the aluminum railing on the side of the boat. He fought to stay conscious. The world blurred. He wasn't sure where he was. Sound distorted, as if he were under water. He had to get up, had to move, but his body wouldn't respond. He wanted to fight but mumbled instead.
Something dragged him, half-crawling, to the stern of the boat. He tried to swat at whatever had him, but his arms wouldn't respond. Knees on his back forced him to his belly, and his head went under water.
He tried not to breathe; he tried to roll over. His fingernails scrabbled across the wooden deck for support, but found nothing to hold on to. He tore into the hands that held him, trying to detach the insane grip. There was no mercy in them, and they didn't move. Blood streaked through the water. Knees dug into his back, and his legs wouldn't respond. At last his body could take no more.
He breathed in.
Paul Renner frowned at the body beneath him. He'd never drowned anyone before. It was just a mean thing to do, but he couldn't trust that he could take a man as big as Gene Palomini in anything approaching a fair fight. Every breath brought searing agony and if Palomini didn't bite his nails, Paul's hands would be tatters. He didn't let the pain touch him. He drifted to that blank place where his mind lived at the moment of a kill and held Gene's head down with both hands.
He shook his head as the big man's struggle faded. After a few more seconds, Gene's pathetic struggles weakened further. A few more and they stopped altogether.
Twenty seconds later a maroon speedboat shot from under the dock and into open water. In seconds it skimmed the water at close to one hundred nautical miles per hour. Behind it a helicopter closed in, screaming out to sea from several miles inland. Ahead of the boat, the Coast Guard cut it off.
The cutter hailed the boat, but got no response. Faced with no real choice, Captain John Ash ordered the ship to fire. The tripod-mounted heavy machine gun obliterated the boat's engine, bringing it to rest almost two miles out. The FBI helicopter caught up and circled overhead. Before agents could rappel down and search the boat, it exploded.
The chopper veered left to avoid the rising fireball. Shrapnel pinged off the fuselage. Captain Ash ordered lifeboats deployed, though he knew no one could survive a blast of that magnitude.
Marty heard the blast from the country club. He stared numbly at the rising fireball. He spoke into his COM. "Gene?" Gene didn't reply.
He tried again. "Sam? What the fuck was that?"
Her voice was soft. "Marty, that was Renner's getaway boat. We had him surrounded. It almost took out the helicopter."
His voice was thick as he replied. "Gene?"
Sam replied. "Witnesses saw him tackle Renner onto the boat."
Marty forced out the words. "But where is he now?"
"Dive teams are en route, Marty."
Under the dock, Paul Renner tossed the remote control and the detonator overboard. He paddled the small sailboat into the harbor, ignoring the pain in his chest as he unfurled the sail. The beach was crowded, both in and out of the water, and despite the odd excitement, people were enjoying the beautiful southern California weather.