Neon Cop's Arc

Chapter 10 of 10

Neon Cop reached the sleek motorboat at the far slip. Then he heard shouts from the cliff top. He turned. Three of Bander's men climbed down the fence line, spread wide, searching the rocks. They swept the ground with their eyes. One pointed toward the marina docks. Neon Cop understood at once. The downed drone had told them a watcher hid close. And the loft window facing the wharf was the only place a watcher could sit. They were coming for Grimsby. He ran back up the loft stairs and pounded the door. Grimsby opened it, mug in hand. "Twice in one morning is a record." "They're sweeping the cliff. They'll trace the drone to your window." Neon Cop grabbed the old man's arm. "We have to go. Now." Grimsby set the mug down slow. He didn't argue. He'd worked the docks forty years, and he read the fear on Neon Cop's face like a tide chart. "My boat's fueled," he said. "Keys are on the hook." They took the stairs fast. Below, the men reached the base of the cliff and started along the shoreline toward the sheltered docks. Neon Cop pushed Grimsby down the planks to the motorboat. He untied the bow line while Grimsby dropped into the seat and turned the key. The engine caught and rumbled. A man on the dock spotted them. He shouted and broke into a run. Neon Cop threw off the stern line and jumped aboard. "Go!" Grimsby shoved the throttle. The boat lurched from the slip and cut across the flat water. The running man reached the dock's end. He raised a pistol. A shot cracked. It punched the water beside the hull. Grimsby swung the wheel hard. The boat carved a wide turn past the moored rows and opened up on the harbor. Neon Cop looked back. The three men stood on the dock, small now, watching the boat pull away. They couldn't follow. No boat at that slip was fueled but this one. He let out a breath. "They'll tear my loft apart," Grimsby said. His hands stayed steady on the wheel. "They will." Neon Cop watched the cliff shrink behind them. "But they won't find you in it. That's what matters." Grimsby nodded once. He steered the boat toward the open coast, away from the wharf. Neon Cop faced forward. His surveillance post was gone. His last set of eyes on Bander's operation was burned. But he'd carried Grimsby out clean, and the whole layout of the wharf still sat in his head. Bander knew someone was hunting him now. The old man had shown Neon Cop the way to move by water, unseen. Six guards. Two exits. One black-finned hull loaded and ready to run. If he wanted Bander, he had to reach that wharf before the cargo left. And now he had a boat to do it.