UNHOLY ALLIANCES, Book 2 in the Twelver Series: The First Chapter
In the second part of the “First Chapter” blog-post, I ask the same question: Does the First Chapter grab you? Does it make you ask: What’s going on, where might this go, what are the stakes, and do I want more? Is there enough interest to turn to the next chapter? Unholy Alliances was my second novel. Here is the first chapter in text below. Let me know what you think.
Chapter 1
Napoli
He watched the crew throwing lines on the dark pier. The sleek Ferretti-Pershing yacht was nearly thirty-five meters in length; its true asset beyond its looks was its massive triple drive props, which were powered by over twenty-six hundred horsepower. The steel-gray Italian yacht was as fast as it was luxurious. Zach could never hope to stay up with it if it made a run for the open sea. His small boat was fast, but not that fast, and the lack of a deep-V hull meant he would bounce mercilessly in the open sea. Zach prayed the yacht was not going beyond Capri.
Capri’s lights were visible thirty kilometers to the southwest. It was just past midnight, and a sliver of a moon cast faint silver shadows on the black, windswept sea as the large yacht motored past the jetty, slicing into three-foot seas. Zack followed a hundred meters behind. Lights emblazoned the name of the yacht in gold inlay on its stern: Gulf Vision.
He made a call. “Elle, Zach Greer; I’m glad I caught you. I’m following Ratani. His yacht’s headed out of Napoli. Hecox is on board, and I think Foltz. If he is headed out of the area, I’ll lose him. I need satellite coverage.” He hoped the agency’s satellites were in a position to quickly find and track the yacht.
“I’ll make the call. I’ll see what I can do and get back,” Elle said.
Zach watched as the yacht came up on plane, throwing water ten meters in the air behind it as its massive props bit into the sea. The faint lights of Sorrento and Capri were visible in front of the yacht. At least it wasn’t headed out to sea, Zach thought. As soon as Zach made it past the jetty, he switched off his boat’s running lights and brought his boat up on plane. He followed the white-churned wake and far-off stern light of the yacht. Even in the yacht’s wake, his boat slammed on each swell as it strained to keep pace with the performance yacht. Spray drenched him, salt water stinging his eyes. The boat and his spine jarred with each wave.
He strained to see through the spray when his eyes saw the white gel coat of the dash crack and explode. For a moment it didn’t register. The dash shouldn’t come apart from the pounding of the waves. Then he knew. The windshield shattered and sparks flew from shells striking the aluminum windshield supports. He turned hard to port to see a red burst of automatic-weapon fire erupting from what looked like a zodiac in the dark waves. Then another zodiac moved in from starboard. They had him boxed in, and they were much faster.
The engine compartment burst into flames, only to be extinguished in a flash of vapor from the Halon fire-suppression system. The boat surged bow down off plane and plowed to a stop in the waves, its propulsion gone. Both zodiacs opened up coming in from starboard. With only a handgun, Zach knew the outcome was certain. He rolled over the port side into the dark water. He could hear a fusillade of rounds striking the boat. Both zodiacs approached from starboard, firing into the boat from less than twenty meters.
Zach fought to stay afloat as his shoes, jacket, and pants dragged him beneath the surface. He took a deep breath, submerged, and struggled to shed the jacket, which enveloped him like a shroud, dragging him deeper. He fought one arm free and surfaced for air. The boat was wallowing in the seas, dangerously close to striking his head. He shed the coat but hung onto it. He went under, sinking while unlacing his running shoes. He cursed himself for wearing laced shoes. Out of the shoes, he fought back to the surface with the coat and shoes in hand.
Tying the shoes around the coat, he forced them down, below him. This would only work if they disappeared; all trace of him needed to disappear. Still hearing rounds striking the boat, he took several deep breaths and swam as hard as he could beneath the surface ahead of the bow and away from the sinking boat—out into blackness. His eyes stung straining to see in the dark salt water.
His lungs burned for air. He surfaced, trying to come up without a splash. He could hear the zodiacs continuing to fire on the boat. He submerged again, trying to put distance between the bow of the crippled boat and him, away from light, surfacing for breath each time with as little disturbance as he could.
When he was forty or fifty meters from the boat, he stopped and looked back. The boat was sinking, nearly submerged. Both zodiacs were visible from the fires on the sinking boat. One of the zodiacs trained a light on the boat and the water surrounding it. They were looking for him. Twice the light swung toward him, and twice he submerged in time. He watched the boat sink below the waves and with it all light.
The zodiacs circled several times slowly, then raced off. His adrenaline began to dissipate. He began to feel the cold water on his skin and accept the blackness of the sea surrounding him. With virtually no moon, everything was black. He was alive, but by his guess, miles offshore. He fought the darkness around and beneath him and the fear it brought.
He started swimming for the lights of Napoli. The jetty he left would be the closest land. He tried to stop his thoughts; he knew that night brought predators and the discharge from urban centers concentrated sharks. He tried to comfort himself with the knowledge that even though the Mediterranean had its share of the four feared sharks - tigers, bulls, great whites, and oceanic white tips - their concentration was far less here than nearly any other sea. He pushed the fear of sharks from his mind, feeling confident that he would succumb to hypothermia and drown first.
