Page 6 of All The Way Under

The seas were choppier as the onshore winds began affecting my sails, so it took longer than I expected.

The lights on shore beckon, but the fact that it’s dusk gives me pause.

I could anchor here for the night, tucked into the corner of the channel, sheltered from the swells of the current further behind me.

Or I could push on for Maputo and take my chances.

Because I need to sleep and the fear of not having my GPS is strong, I decide to dock and sail as quickly as I can to get help.

After the flicker of life with Sea Tracker, I know I’m being jammed. If it were a hardware failure, it would be flatlined without any bounce back.

I fixate on the shore as I adjust my rigging and make sure the cleat is holding the ropes properly.

The fenders are inflatable bumpers used when docking to protect the boat from landing against other boats or hard surfaces.

They’re in place, as well. After my checks are done, I take my place back in the helm and watch my backup GPS just as it begins to rain.

Tiny, hard rain that ricochets off the water in sharp little circles.

It went from dusk to black in what feels like seconds, but I know that’s not true.

“Fabulous,” I mutter as I throw on my rain jacket and tighten the hood.

I’ve barely made headway in the channel when I hear the roar of a speedboat engine. I see their flashing lights bouncing off the sails and landing on random places on my boat. Then a spotlight lands on me and holds. They found what they were looking for.

As they grow closer, I recognize Portuguese words over the pelting rain that’s blasting like spiky sand against my face. The words I can understand aren’t pleasant or helpful. They’re talking about money and my boat.

As quickly as I can, I get to the stern, turn on a large spotlight, and tilt it until their speedboat is illuminated completely.

Let’s be honest, it’s blinding, it’s ostentatious in size, and their momentary stun gives me time to grab my gun and aim it directly at them before screaming in Portuguese, “Stay away from me or I’ll shoot. ”

There are five men on the vessel. I know how to fire this gun, but I don’t know if I’m a good enough shot to take all five of them out, and that can be the only viable option when I begin shooting.

The one steering the boat will be first, the second will be the one next to him, then the three in the back. That’s the plan.

The men rub their eyes against the bright light, then draw guns far larger than mine.

One of the three in the back shoots into the air twice, in rapid succession.

They could sink my boat with rounds that big, and I realize this is bleak.

I hate that I made a joke about Bianca when I thought this wasn’t a likely scenario, and I realize I’ll be lucky to get out of this with my life.

“Everyone on board, stand in front of the light and put your hands up. We are boarding.”

They pull up closer to the boat, holding onto my fenders as two men try to board my boat.

Bounding toward the helm, I tune to channel sixteen and send in my mayday, but I don’t have time to talk as I hear them sliding up the stern.

I head down to the berth, grab the satellite phone, and dial my dad.

I know he’s picked up, and I know calling him is more valuable than calling anyone else.

I tell him in a low voice what’s happening, and I describe the men and their craft as detailed as possible.

Then I tell him I’m going to leave the phone on for as long as I can so he can track me.

He stays quiet, and I can hear him cursing and praying over and over.

We aren’t religious, and his reaction heightens my fear.

I can hear the men on the deck, so I grab all the ammo I have and put it in my pockets with the phone tucked in an interior jacket pocket. I rush the deck, gun aimed in front of me.

I shoot one man who is heading down the stairs. I move out of the way and shoot him in the back one more time to be sure, then continue, targeting another man starboard. I fire the gun once more, hitting him in the chest. The momentum causes him to fall over the side.

Unfortunately, that’s where my luck ends. I’m grabbed around the waist, and the gun is taken from my hand.

“Little bird, little bird, here all by yourself in this fancy boat? How dumb can you be?” he says in his native tongue.

“Let me go!” I scream, trying to wiggle out of his grasp without luck. I’m zip-tied, hands and feet, and being lowered into the speedboat before I can even process what happens next. My phone, I think.

“Where are you taking me?” I wail in broken Portuguese. “Where?”

He seems surprised I’m speaking his native tongue. “Somewhere safe,” he growls.

It’s the man who was captaining the boat who has me. The other two men are aboard my boat, rifling through it. I can see them now that they’ve turned off the spotlight.

I’m never going to see this boat again. It seems a foolish concern considering I may die, but as the craft crashes against the water heading in the opposite direction, I don’t take my eyes off my boat until it’s vanished completely.

After that, I consider dumping myself into the water to drown, because nothing off this coast is going to be safe.

He lessens the force on the throttle and says, “You killed my men, and you will pay.”

I shiver against the memory—something I can’t process now. I’m shaking with shock.

“You stole my fucking boat, and you’re going to strip it for parts.

You will pay. When you realize what you’ve done, you’re going to be sorry.

So, so very sorry,” I say, in English this time to drive my point home.

“They will find you. They will hunt you down. They will cut you open one by one and dissect your family and feed it to the sharks. I am your worst nightmare. I will be the end of you,” I say, and inside the dim glow from his navigation panel, I can tell my words affect him.

I can tell by his face they’ve at least invoked some degree of fear.

He swivels his head back to the wheel as we approach land. “Who are you?”

I laugh, the mean kind of sarcastic cackle. “You’re asking that now? Too late. The damage is done. You. Are. Finished.” At his hesitation, I realize this might be an out. “Unless you drive me back to my sailboat right now. Before anyone knows I’m missing. That’s your only chance.”

“If you’re that important, you’re worth more than average. I’ll take my chances,” he replies in Portuguese. “Now shut up, or I’ll put you to sleep. You’re annoying me, and I need to focus.”

At least what he’s saying does confirm my kidnapping-for-ransom theory. They’ll have to keep me alive. Not by much, I remind myself.

I did research about this during my preparations.

They’ll keep me alive without harming me.

Bianca will make sure not a hair on my head is touched if they want a top-dollar exchange.

They aren’t so uncivilized that I’ll be raped and pillaged.

This is a large operation to fund terror, from what I understand gathered by the boat and equipment they used to trap me, and truly, I mean nothing except a payday to them.

They’ll piece out my boat, part by part, for sure.

A pang of grief hits. I’ve lost so much already, and who knows what’s to come.

I realize the irony of my damn life being in Bianca’s hands because of something she deemed a stupid idea. If I live through this, I’m never going to hear the end of it. I’m going to make these assholes lives a living hell as retribution.

“Where are we going?” I ask again when I remember my phone, still on in my pocket, my dad living his worst nightmare as he listens to this unfold in real time.

I had to shoot people. I know he has made it to his computer by now and will be using the phone to see my exact location. The knowledge he gains will make a difference in my being found. I continue to pester in hopes of gathering information that will help him.

“Tell me. I demand it. Where are we going? Where is my boat? What are your plans?” The questions spill out of me like a toddler seeking the answer to why.

“I told you to be quiet,” he replies, dropping his right arm behind him, then swinging it.

A needle lands in my thigh hard and sharp before I have a chance to inch away from him. He presses the plunger before I can wiggle back, and the blackness overtakes me in seconds.

“Toward Madagascar,” I say out loud so the phone will pick it up. Looking at the stars, I try my best to remember my celestial navigation course, but the dizziness sweeps me away, and my eyes close without permission.

The last thing I remember is the deep vibrating hum of the engine as the boat slows, and my kidnapper’s voice as he talks to someone named Raza on his radio.