 Brick by brick audiobooks presents The Wreck by Landon Beach Red View by Scott Brick For Mary, you have made all of this possible and have done it with love, generosity, and a sense of humor. The book's flaws are mine. Your contributions are flawless. Prologue, Lake Huron, Michigan, summer 2007 The Hunter 49ers motor cut and the luxury yacht glided with no running lights on. God cover hid the moon and stars. The water looked black. A man in a full wetsuit moved forward in a cockpit, and after verifying the latitude and longitude, pushed the GPS monitor's off button. The LCD color display vanished. Waves beat against the hull, heavier seas than had been predicted. He would have to be efficient, or he'd need to reposition the boat over the scuttle side again. The chronometer above the navigation station read 0030. This should have been finished thirty minutes ago. Not only had the boat been in the wrong slip, forcing him to search the marina in the dark, the owner, details apparently escaped that arrogant prick, had not filled the fuel tank. He headed below and opened the aft stateroom door. The woman's naked corpse lay strapped to the berth, the nipples of her large breasts pointing at the overhead. A careful lift of the portside bench revealed black wiring connecting a series of three explosive charges. After similar checks of the wiring and charges in the gutter-out galley and v-berth, he smiled to himself and went top-side with a pair of night-vision goggles. A scan of the horizon. Nothing. He closed and locked the aft hatch cover, moving swiftly, but never rushing. He donned a mask and fins, then pulled a remote detonation device from the pocket of his wetsuit. Two of the four buttons were for the explosives he had attached to the outside of the hall under water which would sink the boat. The bottom two were for the explosives he had just checked on the interior. He looked back at the cockpit and for a moment rubbed his left hand on the smooth fiberglass hull. What a waste of a beautiful boat! How much had the owner paid for it? Three? Four hundred thousand? Some people did live differently. With the night-vision goggles hanging on his neck and the remote for the explosives in his right hand, he slipped into the water and began to kick. Fifty yards away he began to tread water and looked back at the yacht. It listed to starboard, then to port, as white caps pushed against the hull. He pressed the top two buttons on the remote. The yacht lifted and then began to lower into the water. The heaving sea had less and less effect as more of the boat submerged. In under a minute, the yacht was... Sample complete. Ready to continue?