Dahl didn’t have time right now for the man’s obvious trauma. Four minutes had passed. That meant Salene was four minutes further away and about three from the docks. If they lost him now, they could lose him forever and wouldn’t get answers to many important questions.
Satisfied the path was clear, Dahl gestured to Kenzie and broke into a flat out sprint, chasing Salene. Salene was a distant figure now, indiscernible from the guards around him, but Dahl had every intention of making that distance up. He was one of the fittest soldiers in the world and a parkour expert. On top of that he was a little unhinged and knew it. Kenzie kept up, using all her strength and energy, but neither had time for anything else.
Gradually, they reeled Salene in.
Behind, Hayden, Kinimaka and Molokai took infinite care crossing the newly formed path to the safe route. They stopped twice to fire more rounds into the dirt but encountered no other bombs. Sweat, not formed by the heat, dripped off their brows like a fine rain.
Molokai lagged behind.
Hayden reached safety first and turned to Kinimaka. The big Hawaiian was only three steps behind. Together they regarded Molokai, only halfway across.
“Go, go,” he told them. “I’ll catch up.”
She hated it, but knew they had to support Dahl. That was the most important thing right now. With a grim nod she left Molokai to it and took up the chase.
Dahl felt nothing except anger. He wouldn’t let these murderers escape. As he closed in, he saw that they were getting to the edge of the wasteland, perhaps only one or two minutes away from a wide, rough path of level planking that bordered the docks. He knew he wasn’t close enough to engage his enemy, but he was damn well close enough to slow the bastards down.
With a certain amount of ruthless satisfaction, he opened fire on full-auto, pounding the earth to the left and right of the path ahead. He couldn’t shoot his enemies because technically, since the Devil had communicated with him, they needed Salene alive if at all possible, but he could shake them up a bit.
Mines exploded all around the running pirates. Plumes of earth flew up into the air and rained down. Of the eight pirate guards, two fell headlong, two were pounded to their knees under a hail of stone, two were miraculously untouched and two went stumbling off the safe path.
One of those stepped onto a mine.
Dahl saw his body thrown raggedly into the air amidst a rising cloud of rubble. The mayhem enabled Dahl to close the gap until he could sight his rifle confidently on to the backs of the fleeing enemy.
One squeeze of the trigger and another guard went sprawling. That took Salene’s men down to just six. Another shot and another death. As Salene sprinted onto the docks, Dahl was lining another man up.
Then Salene spun and started screaming. His men dropped in position and raised their rifles, trying to get a bead on Dahl and Kenzie. The Swede unleashed another volley of lead, peppering the ground around them, catching another mine that exploded with gusto. It was too far from the guards to do any damage, but the falling rubble prevented them getting any accurate shots off.
Indeed, they all ended up under a foot of debris.
Dahl fired on them. Three gave it up, rose and backpedalled. Salene himself was racing across the wooden planking, headed for one of the many skiffs tied up to the piers that jutted into the sea, away from the dock. The two remaining guards died badly, one getting shot in the very top of the head by Kenzie, the other taking a bullet through the face.
Dahl checked back. Hayden and Kinimaka were twenty feet away, Molokai thirty behind them. Perfect. Nobody was chasing them. He wiped his forehead, reloaded and stabilized all the gear he carried.
This was the last leg of the chase. Salene was close now.
“On me,” Dahl said.
He ran forward, tracking the guards as they ran backward and then turned to sprint toward Salene. He fired, missing narrowly. They fired back over their shoulders, the bullets angling away closer to the blazing sun than the Mad Swede.
Salene jumped down onto a pier. His remaining men stopped and knelt, determined to make a last stand so their boss could get away. Further down the pier Dahl saw a small skiff and two men with guns. There was no way Salene could escape that way. The skiff wasn’t fast enough or well protected.
Yet still, he ran for the skiff.
Dahl couldn’t help but think: What’s the next surprise this asshole has in store?
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
As Drake prepared to act to save the woman with the gun pressed to her head, fully expecting a bullet in return, a brash, authoritative, vulgar voice cut through the restaurant and all its chaos.
“What are you doing? Which one is Volkov?”
Drake hesitated, almost at the point of no return. He wobbled in place for three seconds before sinking onto his haunches.
It was Kobe, the pirate leader, and he came with his three English lieutenants—Drew, Karl and Andre. Drake remembered them from spying through the vent into their little office.
“We are almost there,” Pigswill said with deference in his voice.
Kobe regarded him. “Your hair is wet. Your clothes and gun are wet. Why were you outside when you should be finding Volkov?” The last two words were practically shrieked and loaded with venom.
“One of the passengers . . .” Pigswill shrugged it off. “Volkov can’t hold out much longer.”
“He doesn’t need to,” Kobe shouted. Drake saw panic in his face. “Salene has been compromised. Special Forces are hunting him now.”
A murmur of unrest passed through the assembled pirates. Drake saw them turn to each other and unconsciously raise their weapons.
“The hill’s compromised?” someone asked.
“Is he safe?” Gogh asked.
“That’s our home,” another said.
Drake didn’t hide a smile. It was good for these men to get a little of their own medicine. They deserved much more.
Kobe ignored them all and drew his gun. It was a shiny new Smith and Wesson. Drake guessed he’d appropriated it especially for this job. Kobe appeared to enjoy shiny things. Gold shone at his neck. An Omega weighed his wrist down. Drake didn’t have to be clairvoyant to know all these expensive items had been robbed from previous jobs.
“You must find Volkov, now.”
Kobe stalked forward, striking passengers with his gun, knocking them to the side. His men followed, kicking out. Soon, they were striding among the seated crowd, pulling at men, women and children, hauling them free.
Drake used the distraction to dart across to Alicia.
“Listen to me.” He paused for a moment and reached into a plant pot to grab his comms. Once he’d fixed the device, he spoke quickly whilst retrieving his hidden weapons.
“Listen to me. No interruptions. I hope the USS Bainbridge is listening . . .”
“We are.”
“Good. They’ve loaded this ship with bombs and they’re gonna use them. The pirates intend to sink this ship and kill every passenger aboard. This will happen as soon as they get Volkov. It’s the Devil’s orders, the Devil’s plan. That’s what he does. Leave no witnesses. Kills everyone to mask one murder or an abduction.”
“There are bombs on the ship?” Luther repeated. “Enough to sink it?”
“That’s what I said.
“Where?”
“My guess is lower deck.”
“Makes sense,” Alicia said. “But we’re gonna have to check.”
Drake blinked. “We’re gonna have to defuse them. Us. Here. Now.”
“I can send in the SEALs with a bomb disposal team,” Ryder said from the Bainbridge. “Twenty minutes, thirty tops.”
Drake thought about it. “Not gonna work, mate. If the pirates see you, they’ll blow this ship. Looking at them now—they’re about to get Volkov.”
Silence ruled the airwaves for a while as everyone digested Drake’s words. Kobe and his goons were rounding younger people up and herding them into a group. Kobe had gather
ed five pirates together and ordered them to take out their knives.
“Kill them all,” Kobe said.
Even the pirates glanced over in surprise. “All?”
It all went to hell. Many things happened all at once. Kobe snapped and fired his machine gun. Bullets flew over the heads of passengers and pirates alike, smashing glass, plastic bulkheads and steel. Debris exploded everywhere. A pirate was struck by a falling décor panel, smashed across the back and sent into oblivion. Drake took the opportunity to speak to Mai and Luther.
“You two. Go now. Get below and find those bombs. We’ll protect the passengers.”
There was no time to argue, barely even enough time to get the words out. Mai and Luther crawled away.
“Find Volkov,” Mai urged him. “So much depends on that man.”
Drake knew it and nodded when she glanced back. There was no more time to waste. The pirates were going crazy. Bullets were flying. Some of the passengers were rising up, sensing the end and determined not to die on their knees. Others were scrambling away. Still others were trying to spirit their children to safety.
Drake and Alicia leapt up to make a difference.
*
Mai scrambled clear of the restaurant, keeping many tables and MDF structured curved walls between them and the pirates. That had been one of the fortunate things about the ship’s restaurant. It was mean to be an intimate place and was comprised of many chest-height partitions to divide guests whilst maintaining the atmosphere.
Mai slid into a corridor before jumping to her feet. Luther was alongside.
“We’re looking for the lower deck,” the big man said. “Stairwell?”
“Yeah, ahead and to the right.”
“What are we searching for?”
Mai shrugged. “Bombs.”
“They’re not gonna have signs hanging around them.”
“You’re as experienced in this shit as I am. Wait . . .” Mai clicked the comms and got hold of the Bainbridge.
“You have a bomb expert there? We need information on what to look for.”
As they hurried down several sets of stairs, taking three and four at a time and switching back at every landing, the bomb tech gave his advice.
“They’re most likely to be placed at the major structural parts. The keel, which is the foundation and spine of the ship. Also, there are bulkheads running crosswise. Remember, if these bombs are big enough all they have to do is blow several holes through the bottom of the ship.”
“So it’s likely there’ll be a lot of bombs?” Mai asked.
“Yes, or one massive one.”
Mai thought that unlikely. The pirates had come aboard by small skiff, traveling with weapons and many other items. She didn’t believe they’d also carried a massive bomb with them. Also, the pirates must have had men she’d not yet seen planting the bombs and wiring them together.
They descended at full pace, reaching the lower deck in less than a minute. Mai slowed and brought her gun up. The doors to the inner deck were wide open. She popped her head through, taking in what was beyond.
“Big polished floor leading both ways to cabins. Even the walls are shiny. There’s a sign saying Central Hub, Lower Casino and Play Area, pointing to the right.”
“That’s it,” the bomb tech said. “There’s a stairwell on your right leading to below decks. The pirates are unlikely to have wasted time placing a dozen bombs in a dozen different cabins. It’s more likely that they went to the lower deck and planted them there..”
“Unlikely?” Mai repeated. “Probable?”
The bomb tech grunted. “We’re dealing with madmen and terrorists here. How can we possibly second guess them?”
Mai cursed with frustration but knew he was right. She and Luther hurried through the doors and headed for the central hub.
The floors were clean, the wood waxed. Mai smelled a rich polish emanating from somewhere, mixed with a kind of candy scent. Ahead, the corridor stopped at an open area, similar in size and design to the restaurant. She guessed this was the hub and looked for a door to the right.
“Listen.” Luther placed a hand on her shoulder.
Mai slowed, her ears finely attuned. From somewhere came the sound of low whistling. At least one man stood in their way. Mai padded to the entrance of the hub. Peering into the large area, she took stock.
“Empty,” she said.
Both she and Luther then heard the sound of a fruit machine.
“Ah,” Luther whispered. “Our pirate’s doing a little gambling.”
“We need him alive,” Mai said, “to tell us exactly where the bombs are.”
Luther nodded. Together they eased into the hub area. It was a carpeted lounge, replete with high partitions, randomly placed chairs and two-seater sofas, the ubiquitous enormous plant plots overflowing with green ferns, and several bar areas.
“There.”
Mai saw the casino sign to their right. Using the plentiful cover, they sneaked over. Luther kept an eye on the rest of the hub whilst Mai looked for the whistling pirate. It didn’t take long to find him. He was seated on a bar stool, his legs propped up on a second bar stool, crosswise to the fruit machine he was playing on. One hand smoked whilst the other hit buttons. The pirate, in T-shirt and jeans, seemed happy enough.
His AK was propped up at this side, against the fruit machine.
Mai saw a knife at his belt as Luther lay a large hand on her shoulder. “All clear.”
They flew at the pirate. It took him two seconds to become aware of their charge and another to reach for his weapon, but by then they were upon him. Mai dragged him backward off the stool and let his head hit the floor. As he struck the carpet, she landed on him with both knees, driving the air out of him.
The pirate’s eyes went wide, his face contorted in a rictus of pain. Still, he fumbled for his knife, chance rather than skill allowing him to wrap his fingers around its hilt and wrench it free. Mai was ready, gripping his hand by the wrist and pushing it away from her body.
Luther dropped to the floor and bent over the man’s face. “Where are the bombs?”
Pure hatred filled the man’s eyes. He struck out, but his limbs were pinned. Instead, he writhed underneath Mai.
Luther gave him a punch to the face. “Where are the bombs?”
The pirate spat at him. Luther upended his gun and smashed the butt into the man’s face. Instantly, he stopped writhing and groaned. When Luther withdrew the gun, Mai saw a broken nose and lots of blood.
“Where?” she asked.
The pirate was still trying to jab her with the knife, but her grip on his wrist was strong. With a grim look she conveyed to Luther that this man was going to take some extra persuasion.
Luther brought his own knife up to rest on the man’s cheek. “Bigger than yours,” he whispered. “More deadly.” He let the blade run across the man’s face.
“In . . . in main area . . .” he said.
Confirming their suspicions. Mai said, “How many?”
The pirate jabbed hard with his knife, but Mai still maintained her tight grip on his wrist. With bared teeth she said, “Do that again and I’ll break it.”
“How many?” Luther asked, digging in slightly with his blade.
“Thirty.”
Mai felt ice water rush through her. How could there be thirty bombs? And how could she and Luther hope to disarm them in the next thirty minutes or so?
If they even had that long.
Luther met her eyes. “That’s a shitload of explosives. Why the hell would you want so many?” He turned back to the pirate.
“Small,” he said. “Small packets of plastic explosive with detonator charge.”
Luther nodded. “It’s Molokai we need down here,” he said. “He’d know what to do.”
“We still have the Bainbridge’s bomb tech,” Mai reminded him. “But you—” She stood up and dragged at the pirate. “You’re going to show us where they are.”
With a burst
of desperate strength, the pirate yanked his arm out of her grip and spun away. He struck the fruit machine and fell, right on top of his AK47. Mai leapt into his blind spot as Luther rolled clear, heading for a central bank of gambling machines for cover. It was an odd and unbelievable sight then, when the pirate’s machine gun fired and blew the top of his head off.
Mai stared in disgust. “That’s one way to go.”
Luther shrugged. “What happened?”
“I’m guessing he spun and tried to shoot in one movement. Didn’t figure the gun would get stuck under him and couldn’t stop the shot.”
“Karma.” Luther looked grim.
“Follow me.”
They ran out of the casino, guns up. The shot would have alerted any other pirates still lounging or working inside the hub area, but there was no movement. Mai cast her glance left and right and then, satisfied, contacted the bomb tech.
“You were right,” she said, “but we have thirty small plastic explosives to deal with and no idea where they are.”
The tech could be heard swallowing heavily down the line. “Thirty explosives? Are you joking? Fuck me.”
“Where do we look?” Luther persisted.
“Structural points,” the tech said. “Get yourselves down to the lower deck as quickly as possible. Use the staircase. They must have gotten hold of the ship’s blueprint. It’s not hard to do. Wait, let me dig it out.”
Mai and Luther took a breath, staring around the hub and its cozy spaces. The ceiling was high and hard to reach. Hopefully, the explosives would be low, in the floor, positioned above the keel. She saw the door to the right and headed for it, Luther at her side.
“I’m ready,” the bomb tech said. “But first you have to find and then send me a picture of the explosive and the detonator. I have to know what kind of device and material we’re dealing with here.”
Mai nodded. “Tell me where to look.”
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
The Sea Rats Page 15
