8
Vivian knew what came next.
Bingo fuel wasn’t something that could be argued with. Helicopters were desperately unforgiving about running out of fuel. If they didn’t want to punch a hole in the ocean themselves, they had to turn for shore right now. Any arguments about reserves in the tanks were always shut down—not even up for discussion.
“Is there a cutter closer than the shore?” she begged Hammond even as she continued lifting the seventh victim.
“No. Even if there was, we couldn’t land on it in this weather.”
“I have six aboard, Number Seven on the line. That’s capacity.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
“Swimmer is still in the water.”
“He’s what? s**t! Time?” Hammond wasn’t asking about time until bingo fuel, he’d called that while Harvey was still in the cabin.
“Two full minutes to unload and cycle the w……
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