Hunter Killer

by Brad Taylor

  Jennifer clicked back on and said, “Pike, this is Koko, fourth terrorist is unsighted. I say again, unsighted.”

  She waited, wondering if he would abort.

  Pike came back, his voice as calm and cold as a mountain lake, “Roger. Understand. All elements, all elements, I have control. Stand by.”

  The words were as final as a guillotine beginning its slide. She was committed now, and Pike was counting on her. Trusting her. She banished everything from her mind but the reticle in her scope. She settled it on the man in the cabin, seeing the acne, seeing the eyes. Seeing the life. She didn’t think about that. All she thought about was the rise and fall of the crosshairs. And the count from Pike. She heard nothing for a brief moment, then it began.

  “Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . .”

  Chapter 51

  Jennifer’s call about the final terrorist gave me pause. Hiding underneath the swell of the bow, clinging to a ratty tire dangling down with one hand while holding my pistol with the other, I debated about aborting. I was sure that I could eliminate the target above me, but we had four, and each one was a single point of failure. The ones who were awake didn’t concern me, though. I had confidence in the team to eliminate those targets. It was the fourth one that gave me pause. If he was asleep, we stood a better than even chance of winning. If he was not, we would be in trouble.

  But if I did abort, the next group of commandos would be an idiotic fast-boat assault with a group of wannabe ninjas, causing the ferry to explode when they were still out in the channel, killing my friends.

  Knuckles didn’t deserve that. He deserved my best, win or lose. If it went south, we’d both die, just like he would do for me.

  I kicked off my tourist fins, dropped the HEED to the bottom of the ocean, and said, “Roger. Understand. All elements, all elements, I have control. Stand by.” I gave a momentary pause, then began the countdown, “Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . execute, execute, execute.”

  On the first “execute” I began to hoist myself up the tire, putting my feet inside the well. Remaining in a crouch, I raised my pistol, still having not heard the rifle bullet break the sound barrier. We couldn’t attack without the removal of the terrorist in the captain’s cabin on the second deck, and the longer I crouched here, now in possible view of the terrorist, the greater the chance this thing would end up a debacle. I started to get on the net, worried that something had gone wrong on the GRUMEC boat, when the crack of the round reverberated across the harbor.

  I immediately stood up in the tire, reaching the top of the gunwale. I saw my target slack-jawed, holding a small Skorpion machine pistol, and looking at me like I was the devil.

  His brain finally began to engage, and I saw the weapon begin to rise. I held on to the rope with my weak hand, raised my Glock in my right hand, settled the red dot of the holosight on his forehead, and broke the trigger.

  Knuckles took another glance at his watch, leaned back into Brett, and said, “Pike is cutting it real close here. BMNT is about twenty minutes away, with the full sun in about thirty.”

  Brett said, “Must be the Ranger thing. Dawn’s when the French and Indians attack, so he’s going to do the same.”

  Both of them were whispering, pretending to be asleep, but even so, Willow Radcliffe rolled over, staring at them. Knuckles winked at her, and she snuggled into her son, eyes still on him.

  Brett said, “We need to be prepared for disappointment here, and I can’t go another day without sleep if we want to solve this problem on our own.”

  Knuckles kept his eyes on Willow and said, “He’s coming in the next thirty minutes. Trust me. When he does, we need to neutralize the unknown.”

  Brett glanced at the man they called the “unknown.” He was fast asleep, his right hand still inside his jacket pocket. He said, “That shouldn’t be too much of an issue.”

  As soon as the words were out of Brett’s mouth, Knuckles caught movement on the starboard side. The resting terrorist sat up, rubbing his face. He picked up his weapon and walked sleepily to the toilet at the rear of the boat.

  Knuckles whispered, “Shit. Now there’s another problem. With the time they’ve had to analyze this crisis, I’m betting Pike is counting on at least one terrorist being asleep.”

  The man passed by them, reached the possible threat, and glanced at the mass of hostages all curled on the floor or benches, asleep. He surreptitiously patted the man on the shoulder, waking him. He whispered something before moving on.

  Brett said, “Guess that answers the ‘unknown’ question.”

  Knuckles said, “And now that asshole is awake, too. You have him. I’ll take the sleeper guard.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll just keep him close enough to strike.”

  Before Brett could say anything else, Knuckles slid off the bench and rolled next to Willow. She opened her eyes at the movement, saw him, and said, “Is this it? You’re going to attack?”

  Knuckles saw no fear and wondered what her brother had told her about situations like this. She seemed to have absolute faith that he held some magic ability to save her and her son, not realizing the vagaries that the god of war took, no matter the planning. One such vagary just went to the toilet, and he planned on using her to short-circuit it.

  He said, “No, we’re not attacking just yet, but I want to keep a handle on that guard who just went to the bathroom. I need to leave Brett here, so I was wondering if you’d go to the bathroom with me. Since we have to go in pairs.”

  She said, “Why does he need to stay here?”

  Knuckles thought, She doesn’t miss a thing.

  He said, “He just does. Can you help me?”

  “Will it put my son in danger?”

  “No. The opposite.”

  She nodded. Knuckles looked at his watch and said, “You get in the toilet and stay for at least ten minutes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re on the clock. After ten minutes you can come out, but not before.”

  She started to ask something else, and the man came out of the toilet, walking back to his pallet. Knuckles stood, holding his hand in the air. The terrorist approached, and Knuckles said that they both needed to use the bathroom. He grimaced, looked at his pallet, then nodded. They walked to the rear of the boat, and the man raised his pistol, waving it. Knuckles let Willow go first.

  She entered the bathroom, and Knuckles edged closer until he could get to the man in one leap. He felt the adrenaline rise for no reason whatsoever, wondering where the hell Pike was. The phone alert had to have been sent from him. He checked his watch and saw they were nearing what the military called Before Morning Nautical Twilight—the time when the earth began to glow with the light of the sun before the sun actually rose in the sky.

  The guard grew antsy and banged on the door. Knuckles was sure it scared the hell out of Willow. She shouted something and refused to come out. The guard looked at Knuckles with suspicion, then turned to bang on the door again.

  Knuckles heard a split in the air, a distinct crack that he recognized immediately. The guard looked confused, turning around trying to identify where the noise had come from. The terrorist at the stern of the boat, the one on duty, stood up, and Knuckles saw his head explode. The guard to Knuckles’s front shouted and raised his weapon, aiming it at the toilet as if the woman inside had caused the attack.

  Knuckles slammed the barrel high, and he squeezed the trigger, sending bullets through the roof of the ferry, firing spasmodically until the machine pistol locked open on an empty magazine. Knuckles ripped the weapon out of his hand and lashed out with a foot, hammering the man in his gut. He sprang against the gunwale, reached into his jacket, and jerked something out.

  Knuckles flicked open the blade from the child and slashed forward, slicing for the tendons in the man’s wrist. The blade connected, biting deep. The man screamed again, dropping the detonator. Knuckles spun the blade in his hand,
getting a reverse grip, grabbed the man by the head, and punched him in the throat with a glancing blow, letting the blade do the work.

  A fountain of blood blurted out of the wound, and the man sank to his knees. Knuckles put his foot in his chest and pushed him over, then grabbed the detonator off the floor, making sure it was secure.

  He turned to the rear, seeing Brett had subdued the “unknown.” He held up another wireless detonator with a grin on his face.

  Knuckles shouted, “Watch the rest of them. There might be another sleeper.”

  He caught movement next to the toilet and whirled, seeing a BOPE policeman dressed like a ninja searching another dead terrorist on the other side of the latrine. Knuckles raised his hands, showing he wasn’t a threat, and the policeman pulled up his balaclava for a second. Knuckles had a hard time believing what he was seeing. It was the Israeli, Aaron Bergman.

  Aaron removed the detonator from his target and stood up, saying, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is that the thanks I get?”

  Knuckles laughed and said, “No, no, you get the thanks. I was just surprised to see a policeman, but you’re the last thing I expected. I thought this would be a Taskforce show.”

  Aaron moved into the interior with his weapon out, looking for threats and saying over his shoulder, “It’s a Pike show. There is no Taskforce.”

  And then Knuckles heard, “Seems like I’m always bailing you out of trouble.”

  Knuckles turned and saw another policeman, his face also covered, holding only a Glock and standing above the hostages lying facedown on the deck. Next to him was Brett, a huge grin plastered across his face. He knew who was under the balaclava.

  And so did Knuckles.

  He smiled with genuine emotion for the first time in his ordeal. Pike’s words were the exact quote Knuckles had said to him when he’d saved his life in Bosnia so long ago. He said, “I guess we’re even.”

  Pike said, “Nope. I still owe you. Let’s clean up this place. Clear the hostages of any threat and get out.”

  He remembered Willow in the bathroom and said, “Brett’s got a sleeper. Pretty sure that’s the last threat.”

  He knocked on the door of the bathroom and heard nothing. He said, “Willow, it’s okay. Come out.”

  She opened the door, saw him, and sank to her knees, saying, “Is it over?”

  He nodded, and her son ran over to her, wrapping his arms around her neck. Knuckles squatted down and held out the Zero Tolerance knife. He folded the blade, saying, “Thanks for the loan.”

  The boy took it, nodding solemnly.

  Willow pulled her son close, hugging him fiercely. She took in the activity on the boat, watching the men separating hostages and searching for threats, her gaze finally reaching the man at Knuckles’s feet.

  Initially shocked at the slaughter, Knuckles saw her expression change when she realized who the dead man was. A raw smile crawled across her face and she said, “You weren’t lying. You are worse than my brother.”

  Chapter 52

  Ignoring the gentle rise and fall of the boat, Knuckles kept his eyes glued to a set of binoculars, watching the ferry slowly advance to the dock on Itaparica Island. He said, “You should have brought off Willow and her kid. They’re American citizens, too.”

  Pike said, “Couldn’t happen. Sorry. You disappearing as a nobody is one thing, but making her disappear would have been impossible. It would have busted our little play.”

  Eyes still jammed to the binos, Knuckles said, “I’m pretty sure your play is already busted. You really think the hostages believe you’re BOPE? You were speaking English.”

  Pike said, “Best I could do. They might talk about English speakers, but with Felipe controlling the debriefs it won’t go any further than conspiracy theories told around a dinner table. Willow is the only one I’m worried about talking.”

  Knuckles dropped the binos and said, “She’s good. I spoke to her. Her brother is a SEAL, and she gets it. She won’t say anything.”

  Pike smiled and said, “I thought you were fighting so hard to bring her with us because she’s a little bit of a hammer. Should have known it was some SEAL crap.”

  Knuckles returned to looking at the ferry and said, “It was neither. She thinks the entire thing was a setup to kill her, and with what you said about the Russians, I think she’s right. She’s still vulnerable.”

  After the assault, after Pike and Aaron had declared the crisis site secure, Pike had called in Jennifer, then had taken Brett and Knuckles to the second deck, out of the eyes of the other hostages. The sun had begun to rise and Knuckles had seen a boat in the distance coming closer. It was military gray, sleek and fast. He saw four BOPE officers on the deck, and then recognized Jennifer and Shoshana.

  He said, “Those real BOPE or more Taskforce?”

  Pike said, “Real BOPE. We’re turning the crisis site over to them; we’re getting on that boat and disappearing.”

  “What about the backpacks with the explosives?”

  “That’s a BOPE problem now. We’re not touching them. Felipe’s got EOD on the island, but he said he wanted to get the hostages off first before he screwed with them.”

  Knuckles said, “That female below is an American citizen. She and her son need to come with us.”

  Pike said, “I can’t do that. The only reason I’m taking you off is because there’s going to be an in-depth debrief of all the hostages, media attention, a veritable circus on the island. You probably don’t realize it, but this thing made international news. Everyone in Brazil wants to know what’s happening.”

  Knuckles started to shake his head and Pike said, “She’s a Petrobras executive. She’s been on the news. They’ve blabbed about her and the State Department’s engaged because of her—sorry, they didn’t really give a shit about you. Everyone knows she’s on the boat. She can’t simply disappear.”

  He said, “Okay, I get it, but I need to talk to her before that boat gets here.”

  “Not going to happen. We’re walking right across this deck, over the top of the hostages, and dropping into that boat to be replaced by real BOPE. You’re gone. You’re a ghost now.”

  Knuckles said, “I talked to her during this crisis, extensively. Christ, her son gave me the knife I used on the fourth terrorist. She was the diversion that allowed me to take him out, and she did it knowing the risks. You want this to work, I need to tell her to keep quiet.”

  He saw Pike considering the request and ended with, “I’m going to talk to her before I leave. I’m not asking.”

  Pike slowly nodded and said, “Okay, okay. Stay here.” He put on the balaclava and went downstairs. When he returned, Knuckles saw Willow in tow. Pike pointed at Knuckles in the captain’s chair and waited outside.

  Confused, Willow entered and said, “What’s going on?”

  “You remember what you said your brother did? How it was all secret?”

  She nodded, and he said, “That’s basically what we have here. I’m going to disappear, and the BOPE are going to take over this boat. You’re safe now, but you can’t mention anything I did. As far as this goes, it was a BOPE rescue. Can you do that?”

  Alarmed, she said, “Take us with you. Take Beau and me. Don’t leave us here.”

  It tore at Knuckles, but he knew what Pike said was correct. “Willow, I can’t. You’re a bigwig with Petrobras. You got on the boat with a security man, which is enough for you to be remembered. His body is still on the boat, and the news has been reporting on you as the lone celebrity of the crisis. The U.S. State Department got involved because you were on the ferry. If you don’t show up, there are going to be questions. Questions that could lead to me, and the men who saved your life.”

  She said, “I told you this wasn’t random. They may have looked like criminals, but I’m the reason this happened. They were trying to eliminate me and make it look like criminals.”

  Knuckles said, “You don’t know that. And anyway, they failed now. You’re
safe. You ride the ferry in with the BOPE men, and you’ll be home in a few hours, back at your Petrobras desk.”

  She scoffed and said, “I’m through with Petrobras. This isn’t worth my son’s life. I’m done. These savages can have this place.”

  “Well, there you go. Get out of here and announce your departure. That’ll stop anyone from trying to kill you. Why kill someone who’s leaving?”

  She considered his words, then nodded, saying, “Thank you. Thank you for what you did. Beau thinks you’re like Captain America or something.”

  Knuckles laughed and said, “Tell him Captain America’s got nothing on this crew.”

  She finally gave a tentative smile, then turned to go. She reached the door and Knuckles said, “Hey, I didn’t get any way to contact you, after this is over.”

  She turned, fished through her clothing, then handed him a card. She said, “That’s my private card, with my real address and direct number. Give me a call and I’ll take you and your men out to dinner.”

  He nodded, and Pike led her down below. When he returned, Aaron was behind him. Without fanfare, Pike said, “Boat’s here.”

  They walked across the top deck, climbed down the ladder outside of the latrine, and dropped into the well of the fast boat, crouching low.

  Chapter 53

  Knuckles saw Pike scuttle behind the transom, out of view of anyone on the ferry, and he, Brett, and Aaron followed. Knuckles looked toward the bow and saw Jennifer and Shoshana slithering forward, almost on their bellies, keeping out of sight.

  Shoshana went to Aaron, checking him for wounds like she was inspecting a household pet for ticks. He endured it with a grin. Jennifer came to Pike and Knuckles, and Knuckles could tell she’d been under significant stress through the night. She was glowing with relief at the sight of them.

  He said, “You the one who made that shot on the guy from the upper deck?”

  She nodded, and he said, “What idiot told you to take a precision rifle shot from a moving boat deck?”