“Aye, aye, sir.” Styles pressed a button that signaled the Bird to activate its laser beam and lock onto the heat of the straining outboard engines. “Laser on.”

“Feed it to the Snake.”

“Aye, sir. Snake confirms.”

On deck, Kyle Swanson had the Excalibur out of its protective sheath and resting on a stack of folded pads as he lay sprawled in the prone position, locked and loaded, eye to the scope. He could clearly see the small boat churning through the dark waters. Still too far for a shot.

The Snake had been wiggling into position since leaving the Vagabond, trailing a hair-thin aerial that picked up the signals from the circling Bird. When it reached a point directly ahead of the oncoming pirate boat, it slowed its little battery-powered motor to a minimum speed, adjusted for buoyancy, and hovered almost motionless just beneath the surface of the water. Two small compartments on its back opened, and a pair of round canisters floated up. Then the Snake powered up again and swam away to a safe distance. The canisters popped up just as the boat roared overhead.

There was a brilliant flash of white light and a series of thudding explosions, and the speedboat was suddenly covered with a thick veil of smoke. The cloud turned a brilliant orange, and a sticky mist fell over the men and the vessel, accompanied by a horrible stench that made the pirates double over, coughing, trying to draw fresh air into their lungs. The man piloting the boat swerved erratically to get free from the stinking fog and slowed his power, not knowing what had happened. One man had jumped overboard in fright and was screaming for help.

“Ha!” yelped Sir Jeff. “Finish it now, Mister Syles!”