Stranded (A Samantha Starr Thriller, Book 4)

by S. L. Menear

  “Another fish is headed for Texas!” Jane yelled. “Scorpion Two had better destroy those commie subs.”

  With only seconds to spare, she switched to forward thrust and dove into the second torpedo, slamming it into the ocean floor before it reached arming range.

  Their forward movement had allowed the harnessed torpedo to tow them closer to Texas and arm itself. The American submarine seemed to increase in size, filling their clear canopy’s front view.

  Jane selected maximum reverse thrust again and prayed she could stop the torpedo in time. Shock waves from a massive explosion behind them slammed into their little vessel when their friends in Scorpion Two destroyed an enemy sub.

  An invisible force from the blast shoved her boat forward, momentarily overcoming her engine’s reverse thrust.

  “Look out!” Scooter yelled. “Texas just fired another torpedo.”

  Close to the bottom and in line with an enemy target, Jane pulled up and dodged the American weapon before it armed on its way to a North Korean sub.

  Silent seconds ticked by, followed by a massive explosion.

  Texas had hit its target. Another shock wave slammed into Scorpion One as Jane wrestled with the harnessed torpedo. Disaster loomed a mere thirty feet ahead, the giant American submarine dominating the view.

  Seventeen

  The Mesa

  The deep rumble of distant growls changed my priorities. “Lance, help me arm the crew. Give weapons to Carlene and Lisa too.”

  I handed Glocks and thigh holsters to Tiesha and Barbi.

  All Luxury International Airlines pilots and flight attendants had received extensive weapons training after a deadly incident during my round-the-world charter flight last fall. Lance and Carlene had been with me when one of our flight attendants and a passenger were killed during a tour of Petra.

  Never again.

  Our chief pilot, Captain Jeff Rowlin, intended to ensure that—hence, the weapons and self-defense training and the secret weapons lockers on board all of our airplanes. The lockers were specially lined so nothing inside would show up on X-rays or scans.

  Lance gave Carlene a loaded Glock with a holster. Then he handed another one to Lisa. He also gave the MI6 agent an H&K MP7 submachine gun.

  “What about me?” Renaldo asked. “Why does a musician get weapons and I don’t?” He thumbed at Lisa, still unaware she was an MI6 agent.

  “Lisa was a pistol champion in Great Britain, like Carlene was in Texas. I’ll need to get to know you better before I decide if I can trust you with a weapon.” I slung an MP7 across my back. “Help Lance carry the life raft over there.”

  Renaldo scowled and picked up one end of the raft. Once they had it in the center of the depression, Lance pulled the inflation cord and stepped back. Almost instantly, we had a huge, circular chamber with a roof and side flaps.

  Lightning flashed and thunder boomed nearby as the wind increased and the temperature dropped a few degrees.

  Lance cocked his head. “More rain is headed this way.”

  “Put the extra raft and all our supplies inside in the center. That will anchor the raft and leave enough room for us to sleep in the outer sections.” I grabbed two suitcases. “Hurry and finish before that thunderstorm hits us.”

  Everyone pitched in and hauled our stuff into the raft. Once all seven of us were inside, we closed and secured the side flaps seconds before the squall hit.

  The heavy downpour on the waterproof roof drowned out any attempts at conversation. While the storm raged outside, Lisa, the redhead singer/secret agent, seemed calm, but she kept one eye on Renaldo. He sat with his arm around Carlene.

  Barbi and Tiesha looked relaxed as they snuggled against either side of Lance—no surprise there. Women were drawn to him. His confident demeanor made them feel safe, and they knew they could always count on him to protect them. Sweet.

  I caught Lance’s attention and grinned.

  He shrugged and smiled.

  The downpour slowed to a light patter as the sun dropped to the edge of the plateau. When the rain stopped, the setting sun highlighted a dark, four-legged shadow that passed by silently on the west side of the raft.

  Uh oh.

  The Scorpions

  Scorpion One was twenty feet from the American nuclear submarine when Jane succeeded in overpowering the launched torpedo trapped in the netting. She backed away with the straining torpedo in tow.

  “Look out! Texas just fired another torpedo,” Scooter shouted as Scorpion Two fired at the same North Korean sub.

  Jane pulled up, narrowly avoiding being hit by friendly fire.

  The enemy subs couldn’t target the little attack subs, invisible on passive sonar, especially amidst all the exploding torpedoes.

  The resulting shock waves slammed into the Scorpions, rolling and jostling them.

  Fred texted: Three down, one to go.

  Jane texted: Dibs. Our harnessed fish is hot. I’m tired of wrestling with it.

  She maneuvered through the turbulent water, dragging the weapon behind the last Sang-O Shark. She needed to get close to avoid the possibility of the torpedo missing the target and maybe hitting an American ship.

  “Release the fish, Scooter,” Jane commanded.

  He released the harnessed weapon, and she pulled up and accelerated away.

  Despite the netting, the torpedo’s propeller pushed it into the enemy sub, resulting in a close-range detonation. The blast caught Scorpion One and sent them tumbling end over end.

  Jane allowed three rotations to dissipate their forward momentum before she recovered control and circled back.

  Looming over her like a monstrous megalodon, the lethal American submarine was still on the hunt. She tapped out a text to Texas: All enemy subs destroyed. Cease fire.

  Jane and Fred pulled up and did victory rolls while they waited for the ocean current to clear away the silt.

  Rowlin’s voice filled their speakers. “Scorpions One and Two, report.”

  “Scorpion One reporting all enemy subs destroyed. No damage to our submarines,” Jane said.

  “Scorpion Two reporting the same, Captain. Total destruction of enemy subs,” Fred said. “The detonations were at about a hundred-foot depth, so there’s bound to be a lot of flotsam. Somebody had better make sure no body parts wash up on shore.”

  “Understood,” Rowlin said. “Good work, Scorpions. The Navy has clean-up crews on the way.”

  “Is Wolverine all right?” Jane asked, feeling guilty about the missed torpedo.

  “They suffered a hit in their bow, but the damage has been contained,” Rowlin said. “Take turns re-arming.”

  After acknowledging Rowlin’s command, Jane called Fred in Scorpion Two. “We still have all our fish, so we’ll remain on point while you re-arm.”

  “Copy that, Jane,” Fred said. “Stay sharp. There’s no telling what might be waiting for you up ahead.”

  The Mesa

  “Looks like it’ll be dark soon, Sam,” Barbi said, peeking out under a side flap. “Shouldn’t we gather wood and brush to make a signal fire?”

  I scanned the darkening plateau as a cold wind from the east sent goosebumps over me. “No fires. In fact, no signals of any kind. The same people who tried to blow us up might be looking for us.”

  “But then how’ll we be rescued?” Tiesha asked, her tone telegraphing concern.

  I tapped my left wrist. “The discrete GPS locator on my DARPA watch is still working. It’ll broadcast our location to the good guys.”

  “That’s a relief,” Tiesha said, leaning back.

  “But we might have a problem.” I glanced around at the people in the raft. “We need to figure out who tried to kill us because the emergency locator transmitter in the tail could still be transmitting. If it is, the bad guys can track it, and there’s a chance they might get here before the U.S. military.”

  Lance nodded. “Yeah, we need to know who we’re up against.”

  “How do you know our m
ilitary will come?” Barbi asked.

  “Because they still need my help.” I smiled. “Believe me, they’ll come.”

  A gust rippled the flaps on our raft tent, and everyone flinched.

  “Sam, do you think Lord Sweetwater tried to kill us?” Carlene asked.

  “No, not his style. Sweetwater likes his revenge up close and personal. He enjoys torturing his enemies. I’m number one on his list, but he’s not about to come to a place like this.”

  “Could it be the Chinese?” Lance asked.

  “I doubt it. They want to interrogate me, so they need me alive.”

  Lisa focused on Carlene’s boyfriend. “Who do you think it might be, Renaldo? A rival drug cartel?”

  “I’m no drug dealer!” Renaldo stiffened and shifted his eyes to Carlene and back to Lisa. “Why would you suggest such a thing?”

  “You control one of the biggest drug cartels in South America,” Lisa said. “Or maybe an African war lord is unhappy with the weapons you sold him.”

  “This is not the time to play games, Renaldo,” I said. “Not if you want to live.”

  “You’ve put all our lives in danger.” Lance glared at him. “We need to know who’s coming to kill us.”

  Carlene scooted backward, her face reddening. She scowled at Renaldo like he’d just admitted to murdering the Dallas Cowboys. Then she racked the slide on her pistol and pointed it at his head. “Start talking, you lying sack of—”

  “Carlene, put away the Glock. We wouldn’t want to damage our shelter.” I glared at Renaldo. “Well?”

  “Alright, it’s probably the Colombian cartel,” Renaldo admitted. “I’ve expanded my territory in the past eight months, and they’re not happy about it. They said they’d kill me if I didn’t hand over half my business.”

  “Then why didn’t they blow us up after takeoff?” Lance asked, crossing his arms.

  “How should I know?” Renaldo shrugged, his nostrils flaring.

  “Downing a U.S. jumbo jet would bring a lot of heat on them,” Lisa said. “But if they orchestrated it so that we lost radio contact over a vast jungle, lost both engines thirty minutes later, and then exploded while descending in the middle of nowhere, we’d never be found, and they’d never be blamed.”

  “Makes sense,” I said. “Problem is they might find us, finish the job, and destroy the evidence.”

  “So, give me a weapon.” Renaldo held out his hand. “You’ll need all the fire power you can get if we’re going to survive long enough for your military to rescue us.”

  I shook my head. “Any chance your people will rescue us?”

  “When we don’t land in Rio, they’ll find out our flight vanished and think we’re dead.” Renaldo thrust his hand at me. “Give me a weapon.”

  “I can’t trust an international criminal with a weapon,” I said. “If the rival cartel comes, maybe I’ll reconsider.”

  Lance peeked outside. “It’s getting dark. I’d better go and scout a good spot for our latrine.”

  “Watch out for jaguars,” I said.

  “I know.” Lance shoved an extra magazine in his pocket. “Those varmints are the most aggressive of all the big cats.”

  I nodded. “We’ll sort through the food and plan our rations.”

  Another deep growl echoed across the mesa.

  Lance checked his MP7 and racked the slide on his Glock.

  Eighteen

  The Scorpions

  Fred accelerated away from Leviathan’s moon pool, searching for Jane in the crystal-clear ocean water off Florida’s east coast. He zoomed over colorful reefs, scattering tropical fish. The dark shadow of the big destroyer loomed ahead above them.

  “There she is!” Bull called out. “Eleven o’clock.”

  Fred pulled up beside Scorpion One and called them. “How’s it going?”

  “So far, so good,” Jane answered. “Texas is guarding Leviathan’s six, and Wolverine is limping along on point. No enemy subs in sight.”

  “Where do you want us?” Fred asked.

  “We’ll take the port side forward of Wolverine’s course, and you take the starboard side,” Jane said. “If the DPRK has more submarines lying in wait, we’ll find them.”

  “They lost one near Atlantis and four near Palm Beach,” Fred said. “If we take out a couple more, that might decimate their entire submarine fleet.”

  “I wish. Last I heard, the DPRK had seventy subs,” Jane said. “At best we’re only reducing their fleet by ten percent.”

  “Geez, maybe their nut-job leader sent thirty or forty of them after Leviathan,” Fred said.

  “All the more reason to cripple their navy,” Jane said. “Switch to silent comms now and happy hunting.”

  The Scorpions cruised up the Florida coast as their silent propulsion systems kept them invisible to the enemy. Their thick plexiglass canopies afforded them excellent views in the flowing current of the Gulf Stream.

  At almost the same moment, both Scorpions texted: Unknown targets.

  Jane texted: We’ve got one dead ahead.

  Fred replied: Same on our side. Have rules of engagement changed since last attack?

  Jane texted: I’ll check.

  She contacted CIC: Rules of engagement?

  Rowlin replied: Give me a sitrep.

  Jane texted: 2 enemy subs ahead. Permission for preemptive strike?

  Rowlin answered: Are their torpedo doors open?

  Jane texted: Affirmative. All torpedo doors open.

  Rowlin replied: Take them out. If anyone asks, they fired first. Total destruction, no survivors.

  Jane texted: Copy that. Destroy targets, no survivors.

  She texted Scorpion Two: Say they fired first and destroy them. Acknowledge.

  Fred answered: Understood. Scorpion Two is responding to attack from enemy sub on our side.

  Before Fred’s sub fired, the North Korean sub ahead of him fired a torpedo at Wolverine. He was close to the enemy sub when the torpedo shot out.

  Bull, his weapons specialist, shouted, “Enemy torpedo away!”

  Taking a big chance, Fred dove into the torpedo before it armed, slamming it into the sea bed. “Got it!”

  He pulled up as Jane and Scooter blew up the sub on their side.

  The explosion alerted the enemy sub on Fred’s side as a shock wave rocked them.

  He banked right and dived toward the Sang-O Shark. “Bull, target the tube door that hasn’t fired yet.”

  He fired, and their torpedo impacted just as an enemy torpedo was exiting the door.

  Fred pulled up as the massive explosion pummeled them with another shock wave.

  Rowlin texted: Scorpions One and Two, report.

  “Both enemy subs destroyed,” Jane said over the comm.

  “Total destruction with no survivors after they fired on Wolverine,” Fred said.

  “Good work, Scorpions. Re-arm one at a time and then take point. Current rules of engagement apply.”

  “Aye, Captain, we’ll re-arm and then scout ahead and keep our ships safe,” Jane replied, and Fred confirmed.

  “Woo hoo!” Fred did a victory roll and called Jane. “Your turn to re-arm first.”

  “Good shooting, you guys!” Jane replied. “We’ll return ASAP.”

  Bull tapped Fred’s shoulder. “Think the North Koreans have any more subs waiting for us?”

  He shrugged. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

  The Mesa

  Lance returned from scouting a latrine site. “I’ll be happy to escort anyone who needs a potty break. I didn’t see a jaguar, but I heard one out there.”

  “What about privacy?” Barbi asked.

  “I’ll take a space blanket and hold it up to block the view,” Lance said.

  “Let’s go in small groups and get this over with.” I nodded to the flight attendants. “Barbi and Tiesha, you go with Lance while I stay with the passengers. Then I’ll go with Lisa, Carlene, and Renaldo.”

  Thirty minutes later, everyone
was back in the raft.

  “Alright, Barbi will pass around our dinners, and Tiesha will hand out the beverages. Thanks to everyone’s hard work, we have enough to last several days.” I smiled at the group.

  “Hopefully, we’ll be rescued tomorrow, but it would be smart to plan for a long stay just in case.”

  “This day has been really traumatic,” Carlene said. “Let’s open a bottle of wine. My nerves could sure use some.”

  “Good idea, Carlene.” I pulled a corkscrew out of a bag and handed it to Tiesha. “But somebody has to stay sharp, so Lance and I will abstain in case a jaguar crashes the party.”

  We settled in and enjoyed meals that had already been cooked but had now cooled to air temperature.

  Lisa sat beside Renaldo to keep a close eye on him, and Carlene sat on the opposite side of the raft to keep from killing him. Tiesha and Barbi snuggled against Lance, and I sat near an entrance flap.

  Tiesha nudged me. “Sam, you think there’s a chance the Colombian cartel will come looking for Renaldo?”

  Before I could answer, the thundering blades of a helicopter echoed across the mesa.

  “Douse the flashlights! They might not be here to rescue us.” I peeked out from the side flap to get a glimpse of the chopper. It didn’t sound like a Chinook or a Blackhawk from our military. “I can only see the position lights in the dark, but it sounds like a civilian helicopter.”

  Sharp clicks from slides racking on pistols filled the raft.

  The helicopter flew to where our airplane had slid off the cliff and exploded on a high ledge.

  A few tense seconds ticked by. Then rounds from a high-caliber machine gun echoed off the cliff wall.

  “What are they doing?” Tiesha asked, peeking out.

  “They’re probably destroying the emergency locator transmitter that was mounted in the aircraft’s tail,” Lance said.

  “Think they spotted our raft?” Barbi asked.

  A bright spotlight shined on us, lighting up our interior from the outside as the helicopter flew overhead. The downwash rocked our shelter.