The Sea Rats

by David Leadbeater

  Dahl took the gun. Molokai also handed him the extended barrel, which had been nestling in a hard tube somewhere among his robes. The Swede attached the barrel and settled down along the prow.

  “I got them.”

  “When you’re ready,” Hayden said. “Just hit the boat, not the men.”

  “I get the idea.”

  Dahl breathed easily. Though the sight was erratic at this distance he could see Salene’s sweating face and the expressions of both his men. He passed across them to focus in on the boat itself. A few quick well-placed shots would perforate it nicely.

  The first problem was the wake being created by the fast-moving skiff. It spread from the rear, at odds to the natural swell of the sea, adding confusion to already disturbed waters. The second problem was the constant slamming of the waves, both at Dahl’s boat and the one they were pursuing. Dahl tried to sync to the rhythmic rise and fall of his own boat and theirs.

  It wasn’t working. The boats and the waves were wildly erratic. His own body swayed and dipped with every passing roll of the sea. Somehow, he needed to remain stable.

  Kenzie saw it and smiled. “I can help with that.”

  Dahl shouldn’t have been surprised, but let out a gasp when she climbed across his lap, straddling him. Her head went down and she reached around his chest, gripping hard. Now Dahl couldn’t move- he couldn’t slide across the floor of the boat or sway as much with the rolling sea. And to be fair, the new position wasn’t particularly uncomfortable.

  “Is this okay?” Kenzie whispered into his chest.

  Dahl cleared his throat loudly. “It’ll do for now.”

  “Let me know if you need anything . . . adjusting.”

  Dahl swallowed hard and reset his sights. The pirates’ prow rose as the skiff skipped up over the waves, giving him hope that he might be able to make the shot. Spray was a major issue, blinding him, and so were the occasional soaking deluges thrown up by the waves. Three shots immediately missed by some considerable distance.

  Dahl wiped his eyes.

  “Keep them closed,” Kenzie whispered. “Keep them closed until you’re ready. I’ll tell you when you have a window to fire.”

  Dahl tried this method twice, missing both times. The skiff’s engine made a horrible rhythmic screech every time it hit the crest of the wave, the prop rising out of the water, and setting Dahl’s teeth on edge.

  Dahl took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He started to squeeze the trigger once more.

  “Hurry,” Hayden said. “They’re nearing the mouth of the bay.”

  “That doesn’t help,” Dahl whispered, eyes closed.

  “Sorry.”

  “Ready.” Kenzie said.

  He refocused and again quieted his mind. His heart and gut told him there was no way Salene was going to escape. Dahl wouldn’t let him. It wasn’t often you got the chance to take down a mass murderer. When that happened, you didn’t let the asshole go. You ended it as brutally as it had to end, with extreme prejudice.

  The day faded away. There was no boat, no water. No sky and no wind. There were no people. Only the dirty skiff with Salene aboard.

  “Now!” Kenzie hissed.

  Dahl opened his eyes, focused and fired in one fluid movement. The first bullet glanced off the side railing of Salene’s skiff, making all three men jerk their heads around. Dahl took half a second to adjust. The second and third bullets smashed through the bottom of the skiff, sending plumes of water and wooden debris into the air.

  And then, Dahl suddenly punched the boat in anger. “What the hell is that coming out of the water? Tell me I’m dreaming, because I don’t believe my eyes.”

  Even Molokai was aghast. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Dahl let the rifle drop to the bottom of the boat, rising up in shock. Kenzie was at his shoulder, her face contorted.

  “I can’t believe what I’m seeing.”

  It was the same for all of them. Even Molokai rose.

  Ahead, across the rippling waters, something huge and black had risen from the dark depths. It broke surface to the left of Salene’s boat, immense and torpedo shaped; a huge sea monster rearing up out of the still waters.

  Salene’s boat was rocked by the upsurge. It rode the waves.

  “I . . . I’m at a loss . . .” Hayden stammered. “Salene’s got a fucking submarine?”

  “It’s not a proper submarine,” Dahl said, trying to come to terms with it. “Too small.”

  “Still . . .” Kinimaka said.

  The seconds passed. Salene’s skiff rode out the waves and then headed back toward the recently emerged sub. Dahl shrugged the shock off like a man jerking away the unwelcome touch of a stranger’s hand.

  “Get after them,” he grated.

  Molokai goosed the outboard. The skiff surged forward, cutting through the calm seas. A cool breeze lanced crosswise to them, smelling of the salt that had risen with the sub. The gap rapidly closed. Salene stood at the prow of his boat, waiting. Dahl saw the sub settle, the waters pouring off its high black sides. The small conning tower reared up from the black metal body like a middle finger, pointing at the sky.

  Or at Dahl.

  “Fuckers.”

  He aimed the MK17 again, but then lots of things started happening at once. The conning tower hatch flew up, its wheel-like handle sparkling silver. Men emerged, first one and then two, scrambling to reach the ladder that led to the still-dripping deck. Dahl saw five men come out, all dressed similarly to the pirates he’d met on land. They wore T-shirts and jeans and moved with ease. They were used to manning the sub.

  Was this how Kobe and friends had been planning to escape the ship moments before it exploded?

  If so, they had a nasty shock coming, because it appeared Salene had recalled it.

  Boarding ladders were flung down the side of the sub. Salene grasped one and started to climb. His two men grabbed others. The skiff drifted in the swell.

  Dahl guessed they were fifty yards away, and closing fast. The spare men atop the sub steadied rifles at the oncoming boat.

  “Down,” Kenzie shouted.

  They ducked. Bullets smacked against the hull of their boat, low caliber, not powerful enough to penetrate the planking. No doubt they were using the ubiquitous AK. Dahl eased his head up until he could see the sub and opened fire.

  Bullets slammed through the air. Unable to aim properly he couldn’t tag anyone. It was the sheer fact that he was shooting back that unnerved them. Salene had already climbed to the sub’s deck, his men just a step behind.

  “Move, move!” the African kingpin shouted.

  Dahl rose then, knowing Salene’s men would be repositioning. They were twenty feet away. The boarding ladders were still there. Salene ran toward the conning tower and its ingress hatch, screaming at the top of his voice for his men to reel in the ladders.

  Dahl knew protecting them was his only chance.

  He opened fire all around the deck of the sub, right where the ladders were attached. Salene and one of his men were already at the top hatch, disappearing into the shell of the boat. Dahl’s bullets struck another man, spinning him around and sending him sliding off the sub and into the gleaming waters. The rest of the pirates suddenly had second thoughts about the ladders and turned tail, heading for the conning tower.

  “We have to be quick!” Dahl shouted. “Don’t let them close that hatch!”

  “How many men do you think he has on board?” Kenzie asked.

  “Can’t be more than twenty. It’s not that big.”

  They closed in, Dahl braced as far forward in the prow as he could get. When they came alongside the sub, he reached out and grabbed one of the boarding ladder’s rungs. The surface was wet and rough. He dropped the MK rifle and grabbed the ladder with both hands, planting his feet on the side of the sub. It gave off a dull clank and thick rivulets of water ran to either side of his legs. Kenzie grabbed the ladder to his left, Hayden th
e one to his right. Together, they climbed the side of the submarine.

  Molokai held the skiff steady. Dahl’s vision was dark for a while as he climbed in the shadow of the sub. They moved fast, the packs full of gear over their shoulders pulling them down. Dahl reached the top first and peered over the edge of the sub.

  A shot rang out, forcing him down. The bullet glanced off the top of the sub. Not the safest of shots from the pirate. Dahl increased the stress the guy was clearly feeling by sticking his HK out and firing bullets in the pirate’s general direction. When he raised his head again there were no more shots.

  Just the back of a man climbing the conning tower.

  Dahl climbed the last few rungs, jumping onto the sub’s deck a few seconds later. Kenzie was with him. A shudder suddenly went through the hull of the ship, as if something had been switched on. Dahl turned to Kenzie.

  “They’re diving.”

  “Move!” Hayden landed next to them and ran across the slick deck for the coming tower. The pirate had reached the top now and, hearing her, turned to fire. The bullets glanced off her vest, sending her sprawling and crying out. Dahl returned fire, winging the pirate, shattering his shoulder. The man dropped the gun and screamed before falling out of sight, maybe he’d fallen right through the open hatch up there.

  Dahl rushed to Hayden. Kinimaka was just behind now and arrived at the same time. Hayden was groaning, holding her stomach.

  “She’s fine,” Mano said. “You go get the bastards.”

  Dahl wanted nothing more. Fuelled by rage he ran for the conning tower ladder, grabbed the rungs and started to climb. No way was Salene getting away. Dahl would punch a hole in this fucking boat if he had to.

  The rage settled in him, soothing and focusing his mind. He was confident in his abilities. Salene was a walking prisoner. He just didn’t know it yet. The Swede shot up ten rungs in a blur, emerging atop the conning tower and taking stock.

  The IE hatch was closed, the silver wheel staring at him as if in disdain. This was the ingress, egress hatch, the point where men and materials entered and left the sub. Those men below would probably think that, now the hatch was closed, they were safe.

  Dahl knew better.

  The sub was submerging. He could feel it going down. Hayden and the others, on deck, were shouting about rising waters. An alarm was going off somewhere. Dahl ignored all of it, his mind set on one thing only:

  Stop Salene.

  The Swede jumped at the hatch and grabbed the metal ring. The conning tower hatch could be opened when the boat was surfaced or running on the surface. Technically it was still running on the surface right now. The hatch was stiff. Dahl hunched over it, bellowing in anger, smashing his fists and arms down upon the sturdy wheel. He heaved on it again.

  It was stuck.

  Water rushed up over the deck. Hayden and the others dived into the waters of the bay. It rose quickly, rushing up the length of the conning tower and covering Dahl’s boots.

  Still, he knelt, hammering at the wheel, heaving on it to make it open. The metal bent. Dahl’s adrenalin shot into overtime. He screamed at the top of his lungs, leaned back and yanked on it one more time.

  Water flooded in over his knees.

  The wheel didn’t budge. Dahl repositioned himself, using his right leg as a fulcrum and took a proper grip. This time when he pulled the wheel shifted. When he pulled again it turned some more. His hands were underwater now, his face splashed by the agitated waves.

  But that was good. That was perfect.

  The sub descended. Dahl punched the hatch once more, beating it into submission. With a final heave he managed to turn the wheel all the way and then pulled hard, with his head back, until the hatch came up.

  Water rushed into the hole, straight down the conning tower and into the sub.

  Dahl, up to his waist in water but still with his boots on deck, fired down the hole, keeping the sub’s men at bay.

  Forced to surface, the sub stopped descending as its operators reversed the dive. Dahl stood, head hanging, dripping water, his gun aimed down the conning tower, a heroic, terrifying figure, as Salene’s submarine ascended once more.

  Hayden and the others had already swum back to where the boarding ladders were still attached. Now, as the metal beast rose, it was an easy task to grab hold of the drifting rungs. The slick sides again rose up, shedding water.

  Dahl waited for them, the anger still simmering. The moment they arrived, and the waters fell free of his boots he jumped inside the conning tower, grabbing hold of the ladder and making his way inside.

  Above, Hayden and the others were right there with him.

  “The Mad Swede,” Kenzie said with respect, using the comms. “Now I’ve seen everything and then some.”

  “You fought a friggin’ submarine and won.” Hayden agreed. “Wait until I tell the others. Drake especially.”

  Dahl ignored the banter, staying at the very edge of his game. This wouldn’t be over until Salene knelt before him in several coils of chains. The worst kind of criminal were the trolls that preyed on the weak. Salene was at the top of that list.

  He would come easy or die hard.

  Dahl’s boots struck the floor of the submarine. He looked around.

  A bullet slammed into his chest.

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  Dahl staggered, still riding a wave of anger and adrenaline. The force of the bullet sent him stumbling into the far wall. Pain exploded in his chest. Kenzie’s figure landed just in front of him, her gun already firing, and took out the lone pirate that had tagged him.

  She held out a hand. “Get up.”

  Dahl shrugged it off, ignoring the pain. He rose, wincing. They all stood inside the control room, faced by banks of instruments and buttons, flashing lights and bolted down chairs.

  There was only one way out. Dahl stepped over the body of the pirate that had shot him and crossed into the navigation room. It was also empty. There was a ladder leading down. Dahl threw a flash-bang grenade into the room below and descended. Now, he was in the missile control center, though it appeared to be obsolete. This sub didn’t have that capability. Dahl looked around as the acrid smell of smoke reached his nostrils, the downside to the flash-bang. There was nobody around.

  They delved deeper into the sub, coming toward the crew’s mess room and galley. Dahl saw shadowy figures ahead, one on each side of the metal doorway, and guessed this was where the crew had decided to make their stand.

  “You can’t escape,” he shouted. “There’s two more warships headed this way. Your sub’s been captured. We can simply lock you inside and leave you. We can disable the engine. Come quietly and you’ll live.”

  A round of gunfire was the answer he’d expected. Dahl waited a moment, looking around at his colleagues.

  “Ready?”

  They nodded. Dahl bent down, rolling two flash-bangs in an underhand throw. The grenades bounced and clanked their way into the mess room.

  Warning shouts were heard. Dahl and the others waited for the loud bangs and then darted forward, guns up. The Swede ran into a room dominated by long tables, with counter worktops to both sides. Three men were atop the tables, heads down. Three were on the floor, their hands clapped over their ears. Two more were struggling to stay upright and fire their weapons, fighting the effects of the grenade, but it was impossible. They did manage to press their triggers though, their weapons discharging into the ceiling.

  Dahl raced among them, battering as many as he could so that his friends could catch and secure them in his wake. He found two more men at the end of the room, lying prone, their guns out of reach.

  No sign of Salene.

  “Moving forward,” he said through the comms.

  “Wait, I’m with you.” Kenzie darted to his side.

  Dahl moved off without a word, padding through the dry and cold storage area and then the trash room. The spaces were pretty sparse, allowing nobody the luxury of concealment. Beyond that, another ladder
led upward.

  “Leads to the officer’s berthing,” Dahl said from memory.

  “It’s also an alternative way to the conning tower,” Kenzie hissed. “The bastard could still escape.”

  “Not a chance.” Dahl rushed up the ladder and then, recklessly, cleared the officer’s quarters. A few minutes later they were heading back toward the control room. It was now that they heard the sound of running feet ahead and more than one whispered voice.

  Dahl threw the last of his flash-bangs. Pirates ahead, unaware, collapsed when the grenades exploded, writhing on the floor. Dahl raced past them, leaving them to Kenzie’s mercy. As he ran, he spied two shadowy figures staggering along in front of him.

  A pirate and Salene.

  The pirate turned, raising his gun to fire. Dahl didn’t even slow down. He hit the figure like a battering ram, almost breaking him in half. Dahl had the advantage of wearing thick fatigues and a Kevlar jacket. He was also running at full pelt. The pirate all but disintegrated as the Swede struck, bones broken, blood spurting, his flapping arms and legs marking the arc of his flight across the control room.

  He struck one of the screens to the right and slithered to the floor, dead.

  Dahl didn’t bat an eye. He then saw the ladder leading up the conning tower and a pair of black boots climbing. Salene, finally alone. The man grunted as he climbed, out of breath. Dahl allowed himself a tight, grim smile.

  He wasn’t even sweating.

  He darted forward, grabbed a rung, and aimed the gun upward.

  “Stop climbing,” he said. “Or I make you a new arsehole.”

  Salene, his dark skin sheened in sweat, the golden baubles that hung around his wrists and neck drooping heavily, looked down. “Fuck you, man. You won’t kill me.”

  He resumed his climb. Dahl smacked the barrel of his gun hard against the side of the conning tower, creating an ear-splitting clanking noise.