The journey to Coral Springs seemed torturously slow to Calleigh but after making the suggested detour she had finally made it to her destination and was greeted by the sight of dozens of department-issued vehicles surrounding the area.
Jumping down from the Hummer, she made her way over to where Horatio's team had begun to gather.
"Any sign of them?" she asked breathlessly as she unconsciously placed her hand on her hip, resting it against her service weapon.
"We've searched the entire area, every vehicle, every boat. There's no sign of them," Eric said as he ran a frustrated hand through his closely cropped hair.
"Have you checked the van out?"
"Yeah, there's blood and hair in there. Looks like Horatio was in the back of the van with them."
"At least it means they haven't killed him, yet."
Four sets of eyes fell on Andy and he suddenly felt a little uncomfortable. "Don't look at me like that," he said as he huffed. "I'm only saying what you're all thinking."
"I spoke to a couple of witnesses who were fishing on the harbour. They say that they saw a group of men dragging something onto a boat about thirty minutes ago."
"Did they give you a description of the boat, Natalia?"
"They said that the men left on a boat called, 'The Devil's Advocate'. We've already notified the coast guard, they should be here soon."
Eric spoke up, "It's likely that they're heading for international waters, as soon as they reach the halfway point between here and Cuba they know that we'll have no jurisdiction. We won't be able to stop them if they get that far."
Calleigh turned to him, "Then we won't let them get that far. I don't care what you have to do, Eric, but get a boat and get out there. Stop that boat before they get away, I'll send the Coast Guard out to help as soon as they get here."
"Calleigh, the weather is getting worse. It looks like a storm is going to hit any minute, it'll be dangerous out there on the water."
"Eric, please, you have to. If they get away we may never get him back."
She looked at him with pleading eyes; he couldn't bear to see the pained look on her face. Nodding, he set his sights to further down the marina and began running towards a man adjusting the mooring ropes on his vessel. He shouted to the man before showing his police credentials.
"I'm from the MDPD. Sir, we need your help."
Tossed unceremoniously into a small room that housed the mid-sized boat's engines and fuel lines, he took a moment to catch his breath. Every bone in his body ached as he attempted to shift the weight of his bruised and battered body off of his injured arm. With much grunting and groaning, he finally succeeded as he lay on his right side with his hands bound in front of him.
The room was dimly lit, save for the low level lighting attached to the ceiling. The room hummed quietly as the engine kicked in, he heard rather than felt the boat move across the water. He had no idea where they were taking him but presumed that they would dump his body at sea so that no one would be able to find him, a fitting end to a life of misery, he thought solemnly.
There might have been a time, many years ago, that he would have tried his best to fight his way out of the compromising position he now found himself in, but not now. Now, he felt broken and defeated, they had taken the thing most precious to him. Life wasn't worth living with the guilt of knowing that he couldn't save his son, a boy who he had no recollection of, yet meant the world to him.
As he lay on the dirty floor, his eyes travelled across the room as he tried to acclimatise himself with his final resting place. His gaze eventually fell on a small package wedged in the corner of the room, nestling tightly against the fuel line.
He squinted as he tried to get a better look at the object, noting the tape wrapped around two clay-like bricks and the steady flash of an LED. With a great amount of effort, he eventually pulled himself to his knees and shuffled over to the corner of the room, ignoring the pain radiating through his body.
Calleigh tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the Coast Guard to arrive, it seemed like hours since Natalia had put the call in, she sighed deeply in relief when she saw the boat heading towards them. The captain jumped off and came over to the remaining members of the team as they gathered closely together.
"Ma'am, we got here as quickly as we could. What's the situation?"
"There's a boat out there, 'The Devil's Advocate'. They're holding Lieutenant Caine hostage on there; we think they're heading for Cuba. We need to get to them before they reach the cut-off point."
"We'll do our best, Ma'am. Lieutenant Caine is a good man, you can be assured that my men and I will do all we can to bring him back safely to you."
She couldn't deny the sincerity in the captain's voice, Mark Roberts and his team had helped the department on many cases over the years. The captain of the Coast Guard was an amiable sort, laid back with jet black hair and a strong jawline; he looked every inch the model of an all-American man.
It warmed her heart to know how many lives Horatio had touched since arriving in Miami many years ago, the amount of officers who had volunteered to come in on their day off to help in the search told her how highly the lieutenant was regarded by those he worked with. Even though the man might not know it himself, he had been a positive force for so many people, providing comfort or justice in their time of need, she prayed that their goodwill and wishes alone would be enough to bring the redhead back to them safely.
She watched as the men left the marina and headed in the same direction as the boat Eric had commandeered earlier. The Coast Guard boat was sleeker and faster than the vessel that Eric had acquired and would likely overtake him on their way to seizing the boat that Horatio was being held in.
Her phone began to chirp as she watched the boat speed into the distance, grabbing for it absent-mindedly, she picked up without bothering to check the caller ID.
"Miss Duquesne, how are you today?"
Her blood boiled at the sound of Danny Malucci's voice.
"What do you want, where's Horatio?"
The man on the other end chuckled, "Your friend is safe, for now. I propose a trade."
Her eyes narrowed, fully aware that it was likely some kind of dirty trick that the mobster was trying to pull.
"What do you suggest?"
"Gianni and I have had our fun with your redheaded friend. We're offering to trade him for Agent Collins."
"I've told you before; I don't know where he is."
"Surely a woman of your skill can find an old man like Agent Collins. I thought your team were the best that Miami had to offer?"
She ignored his goading, refusing to lose her temper and give any sort of ground to him.
"I need time. You need to give me a chance to track him down and get him here." She was stalling for time and she knew it, she just needed to hold on long enough to allow the Coast Guard to reach their boat.
"I gave you fair warning yesterday, Miss Duquesne. Our boat should be reaching international waters within the hour; you have until then to give me what I want."
"Damn it, can't this boat go any faster, Eric?" Ryan asked as he made his way carefully to where his colleague was trying to keep the vessel under control in the stormy weather.
"I'm doing my best, Wolfe. The storm is coming straight at us, it's slowing us down." Eric growled, grimacing as he tried to keep the boat sailing in the right direction.
"We're never going to reach them in time!"
Ryan placed both his hands on his head, interlocking his fingers over it, as he kicked out at the side of the boat in frustration. He grabbed for the side of the vessel as a strong gust of wind battered the boat and caused a wave of seawater to come crashing over the side. The strength of the sudden influx of water took Ryan by surprise as he found himself knocked from his feet.
He felt, rather than saw, the lifejacket being thrown his way.
"Put it on, Wolfe," his colleague commanded as he kept his eyes levelled on the waters ahead, "It's gonna get a lot worse yet."
A quick glance at the package told Horatio all he needed to know, the Malucci's final play would be to blow the boat up and whoever was unfortunate to still be left standing on it. He wasn't sure how or why, but he instinctively knew how to modify the bomb that sat before him.
He took his time assessing the components of the explosives and noted the cell phone wired into the detonator. They're going to activate it remotely, probably when they know that the right people will be on the boat. It was a trap, designed to kill him and as many of his colleagues as possible.
Leaning back on his haunches, he took a few moments to decide what to do. He inched his way closer to the device and followed the intricate wires that laced through it as he reached out his shaky hands to it. The pain that shot through his left arm reminded him that he was at a distinct disadvantage, whatever he did; it would have to be one-handed.
It took precious moments, as he struggled with a left hand that was worse than useless, using his right hand to do all of the intricate work. It had taken him more time than he expected to shrug out the belt from his jeans but he thanked God that the Malucci's had left it on him, it provided him with an ideal tool to modify the device with.
He had no idea how long he had sat and fiddled with the device as sweat poured from his brow. The remote-activation device had been disabled and in its place he had programmed the cell phone's timer to begin its countdown, when the alarm reached zero, the bomb would detonate taking him and the whole Malucci organisation down with him.