Chapter 32 - The Vessel
Daniel stepped onto the fiberglass deck first. The subtle shift of his weight was entirely silent. He did not draw his weapon, but the microscopic tension in his right forearm indicated he was prepared to end a life in a fraction of a second. I followed him, my boots making no sound against the damp surface.
We approached the sliding glass door of the main cabin. It was slightly ajar. Daniel reached out, pushing it open with two fingers.
The interior of the cabin was immaculate, smelling faintly of expensive leather and ozone. There were no signs of a struggle. There were no hidden explosives. The cinematic camera would focus tightly on my face as I stepped into the confined space. My dark eyes swept the navigation console.
Resting perfectly in the center of the dark instrument panel was a single, pristine white envelope.
I did not gasp. I did not exhibit a shred of panic. I walked forward with slow, deliberate steps. I reached out and picked up the envelope. The paper was heavy, expensive cardstock. It was not sealed.
Daniel stood right beside me, his physical presence a grounding force in the quiet cabin. His eye movement shifted from the dark corners of the room down to my hands.
"They wanted us to find the boat," I murmured, my voice a flat, emotionless whisper that barely disturbed the silence of the cabin.
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"They wanted to ensure we were paying attention," Daniel replied, his baritone voice a low rumble.
I pulled a single, thick card from the envelope. There was no theatrical manifesto. There was no generic villainous threat. There was only a precise set of GPS coordinates printed in sharp, black ink, followed by a time: 22:00.
