“You’ll see.” Hank Mahenili smiled mysteriously.
Another fifteen minutes went by. A steady stream of bubbles broke the surface. The diver was working. Thomas Brewster kept looking at his watch. Biff and Li, lying on their stomachs, watched the area dotted with bubbles. Biff, looking up, noticed Madeira frantically winding up the anchor winch of the Black Falcon. Perez Soto was already at the wheel, shouting at his henchman to hurry up.
“Hey, look at that,” Biff exclaimed. “Looks like Perez Soto has changed his mind. He’s in a hurry to get out of here.”
And he was. The anchor of the Black Falcon was barely out of the water when Perez Soto jammed the throttle of the cruiser full speed forward, and the boat leaped away, leaving a high, foaming wake at its stern.
“Now I wonder what made him change his mind?” Tom Brewster asked.
“I think I know the answer to that. Look over there.” Hank Mahenili said.
They looked in the direction he was pointing. A low, gray boat was coming along at a racing clip. Huge numbers on its bow identified it.
“It’s a Coast Guard cutter,” Biff shouted.
“That’s right, Biff. Now watch. We may see some fun.”
The cutter was after the Black Falcon. The cruiser was fast, but no match for the Coast Guard cutter. She closed the gap between the boats rapidly.