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As the center of the ship’s hull suddenly exploded, I felt an almost pleasant carnival ride sensation as Olivia and I and the table were flung upward by the blast wave that shuddered through the deck.

In the detonation’s ear-ringing aftermath, I found myself and Olivia standing by the second deck stairs, getting rained on by the deluge of falling seawater that had been blown skyward.

When I turned, I saw Shaw was down on his ass in the port corner of the sole, trying to move the heavy table that was now flipped over on top of him.

Then I was moving, pulling Olivia by the arm up the wet stairs to the pilothouse deck.

The first thing I saw at the top of the stairs was that the teak floor of the second deck was littered with shattered glass and splintered wood. The second was that the Phil Collins look-alike was in the pilothouse doorway on all fours moaning.

Ignoring the dropped shotgun on the deck to the man’s right, I grabbed the man by the back of his belt and the back of his shirt and heaved him to his feet and threw him over the starboard rail.

I had lifted the shotgun and had just turned toward the stairs as the gigantic black dude appeared at the top of them. The big man very wisely dropped out of sight as I blew a gaping hole through the stairwell side gunwale where his face had just been.

“What now?” Olivia yelled.

I dropped the shotgun and tore off my right Converse low top and ripped free the handcuff key I’d taped to the bottom of my foot. I unlocked Olivia’s handcuffs and dropped them clattering to the deck.

“This boat’s going down. Jump, Olivia!” I yelled as I helped her over the starboard rail into the water.

I was up on the rail myself about to jump in after her when there was a tremendous groan of complaining metal and the sinking boat suddenly rocked back hard to port.

I yelled as I lost my balance and fell skidding across the tilted teak deck on my back like a shuffleboard puck.

The pain that exploded through the back of my skull as I suddenly came to an abrupt stop was incredible. I’d bashed the ever-living shit out of the back of my head against one of the steel posts of the port side rail, I realized groggily.

Sitting there stunned with my ears ringing, I could feel the rocking ship continuing to sink.

I looked forward as the blast-rocked boat teetered from side to side. Alarms were going off everywhere in the pilothouse, and to the port side of the vessel rose thick black smoke.

Holy shit , I thought as I noticed that the rolling deck was already descending. With its hull thoroughly blown to smithereens, I could feel the several million-pound steel vessel lowering slowly and steadily into the Atlantic like a coffin into a grave.

As I sat there blinking stupidly around me, one part of me knew how incredibly important it was for me to get the hell on the move. But another part of me was saying in my head like a calm voice, No, just a second. Just give it a second. Catch your breath. Catch your breath .

I was still unwisely listening to the deadly calming voice when I noticed some movement to my right.

I looked up and sat blinking amazed.

Shaw, wild-eyed, now stood at the top of the listing deck steps beside me.

Then he was kneeling down, straddling me and wrapping his big meaty hands around my throat.