"The ramp," Rock whispered, then louder: "Use the shipwreck as a ramp! If we hit it at full throttle, we can launch the boat into the air."

Suddenly, the horizon erupted. A Russian-made Hind gunship loomed over the waves, its rotors thumping like a giant’s heartbeat. The Council of the company had decided it was cheaper to kill Rock than to pay his ransom.

Bullets shredded the deck. Rock watched, paralyzed, as the world he knewβ€”spreadsheets, bowing to superiors, and lukewarm sakeβ€”evaporated under the heat of tracer rounds.

Dutch looked at the map, then at the frantic salaryman. "Any ideas, kid? Or are you just going to die in that tie?"

Their cargo was simple: a data disc stolen from a briefcase. Their passenger was not.

The explosion of the helicopter lit up the twilight. When the boat slammed back into the water, rocking violently but still afloat, silence fell.

"We’re pinned!" Benny shouted over the radio, frantically tracking the chopper's movement on his monitors. "We can't outrun a Hind in open water!"