him a moment, but then he heard it. The sound was at almost the same pitch as their engine, but its rhythm was just slightly off.
“Another boat?” he asked.
Daeng nodded.
They scanned the river ahead.
“There,” Logan said a half minute later.
About a fifty yards ahead, and very tight to the shore, was the dim shape of a longboat. He watched it for a moment, then decided it was probably just another local out for some early morning fishing.
“I think he’s headed downriver,” Daeng said.
Logan returned to his search, wondering if they should just turn around and head back to the car.
Several seconds passed, then Daeng said, “Logan?”
He was staring at the other longboat. It was almost directly in line with them now, moving in the opposite direction, closer to shore. The building it was passing was all lit up, spilling its light onto the boat’s two occupants—a pilot and a solo passenger in the middle. And not just any passenger, either. A lanky and young farang passenger.
Ryan.
Logan turned away so he wouldn’t be spotted. “That’s one of them,” he whispered.
There was a moment of silence, then Daeng said, “Apparently so.” He shouted something at their pilot, and their speed suddenly picked up.
“Why did you—” Logan stopped himself.
The other boat had also picked up speed, and had turned toward them.
“Hold on!” Daeng yelled.
Their pilot took a sudden turn to the left toward the center of the river. Warm water sprayed over the side, hitting Logan in the shoulder and face, but he barely noticed. He was focused on the dark shape of the other boat as it continued to follow them.
Their pilot shouted out something, then Daeng yelled back. Whatever Logan’s new friend had said, the look on the pilot’s face went from looking pissed off to subservient in a flash.
Without warning, their boat swerved to the right then back to the left. Logan grabbed both sides so he wouldn’t fall out as they tilted through the turns. Glancing at the water, he could see they’d just gone around a wide patch of vegetation, this one a tangle of vines and leaves that actually seemed to be alive, and not just a flotilla of cast off branches rotting on the water.
Either the other boat had a better engine than theirs or a better pilot, because they were definitely closing in.
“We need to go faster!” Logan yelled over the sound of the motor.
Daeng shook his head. “The pilot said that’s all it’s got.”
Just then something hit the boat about four feet in front of Logan, creating a small hole in the sidewall.
He pointed at the damage. “Daeng! They’re shooting at us!”
Daeng leaned sideways so he could look around Logan, and see what he was talking about. But before he could say anything, his hand flew up and grabbed the side of his head. At the same instant, Logan heard something rip through the air a foot to his left.
Daeng doubled over, his face wincing in pain as he pressed his fingers against his head.
Logan looked back at their pilot, and pointed to the right. “That way! Now!”
He didn’t know if the guy understood his words, but the pilot got the gist of Logan’s motion. He shoved the steering pole around, sending up a rooster tail of water as the boat whipped through the turn.
“Back and forth,” Logan said, pointing in one direction, then the other. Up to that point, they’d been too much of a stationary target. They had to keep changing direction.
He leaned down next to Daeng, not waiting to see if the pilot did as he instructed. He could hear Daeng breathing heavily.
“Where did it hit you?”
He was trying to see the wound, but Daeng had twisted his head so the injury was facing down, out of Logan’s view.
The pilot suddenly screamed out.
Looking back, Logan saw that the man had scrunched down behind the bulk of the engine, one hand hanging onto the steering pole. Though he looked frightened, he didn’t appear to be hurt. Before Logan turned away, the pilot screamed again as a bullet smacked into the engine, sending a couple of sparks into the air.
Logan looked back at Daeng. “How bad is it?”
Daeng took a deep breath, then lifted his head. “I’m fine!”
“Let me see.”
Daeng turned, and moved his hand. The side of his head was covered in blood, making it impossible to see where the wound was.
Glancing around, Logan spotted a bottle of water back near the pilot.
“Throw me that,” he said, pointing at it.
The pilot didn’t