THE GREAT WHITE RED ALERT

Poison Flower was screaming again.

Her squadron of go-fast boats was scattered up and down the coast. But, instead of being the hunters, they had become the hunted. Each go-fast boat was surrounded by a flotilla — a small fleet of boats — filled with angry citizens and authorities from Gansbaai and nearby towns.

After Tyler had given the Foundation the information, satellites had tracked the go-fast boats from the time they had left the mother ship. Cage-diving companies, commercial fishing companies, even local pleasure boat owners had been secretly notified, and had taken to the water in force.

Poison Flower could now see boats closing in on her. She jammed the throttle forward and the boat headed for the Zubr.

She and her crew reached the Zubr to find a mess. Two of her men were injured. Her prisoners had escaped. Her carefully planned operation was falling apart. She had never been so angry. Ruined by children! she fumed.

In the communication center, she checked satellite images. Dyer Island. Geyser Rock. There! She zoomed in. That submarine! Those children!

Poison Flower screamed at the crewmen to get ready to launch the powerful hovercraft.

She was big into screaming today. Frightened by her anger, her remaining crew rallied and went to work. Four ten-thousand-horsepower hover engines roared to life, lifting the boat up on its air cushion. Three forward-thrust engines spun up to fifteen-thousand rpm. The ship picked up speed and within a minute was skimming across the sea at more than 60 knots.

Poison Flower was hunting revenge.