“Shoot him,” Mackay ordered, and half a dozen police rifles cracked, but although Watters heard the ping of bullets hitting the launch and saw the spark as a ball ricocheted off the funnel, Gow was untouched. The acrid whiff of g*n smoke drifted across the beach.
“Where are you going, Sergeant?” Mackay shouted as Watters waded into the sea. “You can’t swim after him.”
Ignoring the Chief Constable, Watters tucked his cane into his belt and thrust overarm for the nearest of the fishing boats. The policeman in the stern stared, but a bearded fisherman threw out a line.
“In you come, chum,” the bearded fisherman said as Watters clambered aboard. “Who are you, and what are you doing anyway?”
“Sergeant Watters, Dundee Police and follow that launch,” Watters ordered.
“He’s got a steam engine
