Chapter 4 - The Kill Switch
The stateroom listed sharply to the port side as the captain pushed the yacht through rising eight-foot swells. Naomi quickly strapped the pistol to her inner thigh using the elastic band of her sarong, stuffed the tracker into her clutch, and clicked the voice recorder into active mode.
If Julian was accelerating the timeline, the poison in the champagne was only plan A. Plan B was far more direct: a staged slip into the thrashing churn of the twin propellers.
She unlocked the deadbolt with agonizing slowness. Slipping into the narrow service corridor used by the yacht's crew, she avoided the main staircase. Her father had owned shipyard facilities in Savannah; she knew the anatomy of vessels like this better than Julian ever would. Every vessel in the 120-foot class had an emergency fuel shut-off valve located behind the galley pantry to smother engine fires.
Naomi crept past the stainless steel refrigerators. Outside the galley doors, she heard Marcus and the ship's hired captain speaking in hurried, agitated tones.
""The squall is turning into a category one gale,"" the captain barked. ""If we're dropping her, do it now. I’m not maneuvering a crime scene through thirty-knot winds.""
""Julian is getting her on the aft deck right now,"" Marcus answered. ""Just hold the heading straight into the waves so she loses balance naturally.""
Naomi slid behind the narrow pantry shelves, her fingers finding the red emergency T-handle recessed into the bulkhead. Pulling it would starve the diesel injectors instantly, killing the yacht's power and plunging the vessel into total blackout. It would give her twenty seconds of confusion to make her move.
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She wrapped her fingers around the cold iron handle, bracing her heels against the floor.
Just as she prepared to yank the lever, a heavy hand clamped down over her shoulder, spinning her around into the darkness.
