“What was that all about?” Summer asked with a tinge of annoyance.

Dirk described the guard positioned on the stern of Kang's yacht. “There wasn't much chance without the starter key. As close as the boats are together, he'd have seen or heard me trying to rummage around hot-wiring the ignition. Chances are, there's a guard or two on the catamaran as well. I think we're going to have to settle for the skiff.”

The small skiff that Kang's thugs had used to ferry Dirk and Summer into the cavern was pulled up onto the shore, adjacent to the dock.

“That's awfully close to the guardhouse,” Summer noted.

Dirk looked ashore, spotting the guard still sitting in the guardhouse, about twenty meters from the skiff. “Stealth it will be,” he said confidently.

Kicking back toward shore, they swam widely around the docked boats and approached the rocky beach from the east side. When their feet touched bottom, Dirk had Summer wait in the water while he crept slowly to the shoreline.

Inching his way out of the water, he crawled snakelike on his belly toward the boat, which was wedged between two rocks about twenty feet from the water. Using the boat as a shield between him and the guardhouse, he burrowed alongside the wooden skiff until he could peer over the side. A spool of line, coiled on the front bench and tied to a small bow cleat, caught his eye. Reaching over the gunwale, he unfastened the line and pulled the coil to his chest, then burrowed backward over the loose pebble beach to the boat's stern, which faced the water. Running his hand along the top of the transom, he felt a bolt-hole for attaching an outboard motor and ran one end of the line through, tying it securely.

Scurrying on his belly back into the water, he played out the line until he reached the end of its fifty-foot length. Summer swam over and they huddled together, hunched over in four feet of water with just their heads poking above the surface.

“We'll reel it in like a marlin,” Dirk whispered. “If anybody gets wise, we can duck back behind those rocks by the cavern,” he said, tilting his head toward the protruding boulders nearby. Placing Summer's hands on the line, he leaned back in the water and gradually began applying tension to the line. Summer tightened her grip and then threw her weight onto the line as it drew taut.

The small boat jumped easily from its perch, emitting a jarring grind as its hull scraped across its rocky berth. They quickly eased off the line and stared toward the guardhouse. Inside, the guard still had his nose stuck in the magazine, impervious to the noise made by the boat. They quietly took up the slack and continued to reel the boat toward them a foot at a time, stopping periodically to ensure they had not attracted any attention. Summer held her breath as the boat approached the water's edge, letting out a long sigh when they tugged it fully into the water, the scraping sound at last ceasing.

“Let's tow her out a little farther,” Dirk whispered, winding the towline over his shoulder and kicking toward the center of the cove. When they were a hundred meters from the shoreline, he tossed the line into the boat and pulled himself over the side, then grabbed Summer's hand and pulled her aboard.

“Not exactly a Fountain offshore powerboat but I guess she'll do,” he said, surveying the interior of the small boat. Spying a pair of oars under the bench seat, he popped the shafts into the side oarlocks and dipped the blades into the water. Facing the stern of the skiff, with Kang's compound illuminated in the background, he pulled heavily on the oars, propelling the small boat swiftly into the center of the cove.

“It's about a mile to the main river channel,” Summer estimated. “Maybe we can find a friendly South Korean naval or Coast Guard vessel on the river.”

“I'd settle for a passing freighter.”

“Sure,” Summer replied. “Just as long as it doesn't have a Kang Enterprises lightning bolt on the funnel.”

Glancing toward the shoreline, Dirk suddenly detected a movement in the distance and squinted to better see across the water. As his eyes focused, he grimaced slightly.

“I'm afraid it's not going to be a freighter offering us the first lift,” he said as his knuckles tightened their grip on the oars.

The dock side guard had grown bored with his magazine and decided to patrol the moored boats once again. A fellow guard stationed on Kang's yacht was from a neighboring province and he loved to harass the man about the lack of attractive women in his home region. Walking toward the dock, he at first failed to take notice of the empty beach, but then tripped as he stepped onto the dock ramp. Grabbing the side rail to steady himself, his eyes fell to the ground nearby, detecting the scarred indentation of a boat that had been dragged across the pebbly beach. Only, the boat was gone.

The embarrassed guard quickly radioed his discovery to the central security post and, in an instant, two heavily armed guards came running from the shadows. After a brief but heated exchange, several flashlights were produced, their yellow beams rapidly waved in a chaotic frenzy about the water, rocks, and sky in a frantic search for the missing skiff. But it was the guard on the stern of Kang's yacht who located the two escapees. Shining a powerful marine spotlight across the water of the cove, he pinpointed the small white boat lurching across the waves.

“Not a good time to be in the limelight,” Summer cursed as the rays of the distant searchlight fell over them. The clattering burst of an assault rifle rattled across the water, accompanied by the whistling of bullets that raced harmlessly over their heads.

“Get down low in the boat,” Dirk commanded his sister as he pulled harder on the oars. “We're out of accurate firing range but they could still get off a lucky shot.”

The small skiff was just midway across the cove and Dirk and Summer would be sitting ducks for a gunman in Kang's speedboat, which could be on them in a matter of seconds. Dirk silently hoped and prayed that nobody would notice the boat's stern line as they rushed to chase after them.

On shore, one of the guards had already jumped into the green speedboat and started the motor. Tongju, awakened by the gunfire, burst out of his cabin on the catamaran and began barking inquiries at one of the guards.

“Take the speedboat. Kill them if you have to,” he hissed.

The two other guards scrambled into the speedboat, one of them casting off the bowline as he jumped aboard. In the rushed moment, none of the men noticed that the stern line was dropped over the outboard side. The pilot saw only that the lines to the dock cleat were free. As the boat drifted clear of the dock, he jammed it into gear and pushed the throttle all the way to its stops.

The green boat surged forward for a split second, then mysteriously stopped dead in its tracks. The engine continued to scream with a whine, churning at high rpm, but the boat sat drifting lazily. The confused pilot pulled back on the throttle, unsure of what was causing the lack of forward motion.

“Idiot!” Tongju screamed from the deck of the catamaran with uncharacteristic emotion. “Your stern line is caught in the propeller. Put someone over the side to cut it free.”

Dirk's handiwork had paid off. Diving under the speedboat, he had tightly wrapped the stern line around the propeller and its exposed shaft, clogging its ability to spin freely. The heavy hand of the pilot on the throttle had only served to wind the line tighter, spinning it up and into the drive shaft coupling in a laborious mess. It would take a diver twenty minutes to cut and yank free the mass of coiled rope embedded in the driveline.

Realizing the speedboat's predicament, Tongju burst into the cabin of the catamaran's pilot.

“Start the engines. Get us under way immediately,” he barked. The groggy pilot, clad in a pair of red silk pajamas, nodded sharply and made his way quickly to the wheelhouse.