Chapter 7 - The Final Confrontation in the FogThe heavy steel door of the flybridge access stairwell bulged outward with a deafening metallic screech. The water level inside the hull had risen so fast that Thomas had been trapped below deck, fighting for air in the sinking main salon.
Maxwell stood over the stairwell hatch, holding the shivering girl tightly in one arm. With his free hand, he gripped the manual security release lever.
"Please... help me!" Thomas’s voice gurgled from the stairwell, stripped of all arrogance, reduced to pure, primal terror as the water pressed against the other side of the heavy door.
Maxwell looked down at the trembling child in his arms, her feverish breath damp against his shoulder. Then he looked at the hatch.
With a deliberate motion, Maxwell pulled the lever.
The heavy steel door blew inward in a violent geyser of saltwater and foam. Thomas tumbled out onto the upper deck, coughing up seawater, clawing frantically at the wet teak floorboards as he gasped for oxygen.
Before Thomas could even wipe the water from his eyes, the heavy chopping sound of rotor blades cut through the fog above them.
A Coast Guard rescue helicopter broke through the gray cloud cover, lowering a powerful searchlight that illuminated the listing yacht in blinding white light. A heavy cargo cable dropped swiftly onto the upper deck, followed by two rescue swimmers in bright orange suits.
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"Anderson Holdings! Step away from the hatch!" a megaphone crackled from above.
Thomas scrambled to his feet, pointing wildly at Maxwell. "He did it! He tried to sink the yacht! He’s insane!" Lies poured desperately from his mouth, but the automated satellite distress log—which had already beamed the security camera footage and audio transcript directly to federal investigators—was already broadcasting on every marine frequency in the harbor.
