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“Not enough,” the man tells the captain.

I lean forward, desperate to include everyone on video. You can never predict how a story is going to unfold ... haven’t I learned this lesson time and time again?

“Fifteen is all we have,” the captain lies.

It’s obvious. And stupid.

“And the cargo.”

Dead silence spreads out across the deck. I hold my breath, afraid to exhale.

“We’re going to die,” a crewman murmurs.

At the same time, the captain lays out another lie. “Nothing of value.”

I frown. These men aren’t here for tea, obviously, but what if they’ve come for—

“I’ll spare yer lives,” the mobster says in a booming voice, “if one of you speaks up and answer my bloody question. Where is it?”

The crew looks at each other in confusion.

My hand is shaking so hard I almost drop the phone.

And someone whistles.

All eyes turn toward the sound, seconds before chaos erupts.

* * *