The world outside the Albatross cockpit had transformed into a terrifying canvas of gray. The San Pedro waves that had sparkled under the harbor lights moments ago were now giant mounds of water, seemingly eager to drag the seaplane’s hull into the depths of the ocean. Mateo Rossi gripped the yoke with one hand, while his right hand fumbled in his jacket pocket, clutching the GPS microchip he had just pried from the sole of Elena’s shoe.
The small device blinked red, as if mocking their desperate attempt to escape.
"Mateo! The navigation lights behind us are getting closer!" Elena screamed. Her voice was high-pitched, competing with the roar of the Pratt & Whitney engines forced to their absolute limit. "They’re going to shoot us down, Mateo! Do something, damn it!"
Mateo glanced at the
