“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.
* * *
