Polk considered calling off the rocket launch, but he would feel foolish for aborting the mission if he found out later that the trimaran had a simple communications malfunction. He trusted that Jin would be true to her word and arrive before dawn to celebrate their newfound riches with him.
It was nearing 11:30 p.m. Time to prep for the launch. He pressed the buttons that activated the huge doors that covered cargo bays three and four, the ones closest to the bridge. They folded up to reveal two cavernous openings. From this vantage point, he couldn’t see the holds’ contents, but he knew what was inside.
Each bay held one hundred and forty-nine rockets loaded into vertical tubes. The individual rockets would be guided by inertial navigation systems and GPS signals to their detonation points over Sydney. They were spaced out to cover the maximum area when they exploded, dispersing the Enervum into the air. There was almost no wind tonight, so the gas would achieve its maximum effectiveness. Only the most outlying suburbs of the city would be spared.
Since the Centaurus would be at the epicenter of the attack, Polk and his men would need protection from the gas. A full-face mask dangled at Polk’s waist, as it did for each of the mercenaries on the ship.
Sydney’s vessel tracking system cameras would record the launch from the Centaurus, leaving no doubt about the origin of the attack. Thanks to some anonymous tips from Jin and Polk, news sites around the world would have the basic story by January first, providing the key words they needed to unlock their money.
He just wished he could share this moment with his wife. The lack of contact with Jin continued to gnaw at him. He looked at the security chief.
“Make sure everyone is armed at all times,” Polk said. “We can’t take any chances from this point forward. If any boats approach between now and midnight, kill everyone aboard.”
“Yes, sir.”
Polk picked up a thick metal case, set it on the console, and opened it. Inside was the control panel, with buttons and switches labeled in both Swedish and English. Embedded in the case’s lid was a large touch screen. Above it was “MR-76 Launch System.”
The case controlled the Swedish-made rockets, wirelessly connected to the launch system hidden in the cargo bay.
Polk removed a key from the chain around his neck. He inserted it into a keyhole marked with three settings. OFF, TIMER, and ACTIVE. OFF meant the rockets were inert, TIMER was for a countdown launch, and ACTIVE allowed him to press the red LAUNCH button, firing the rockets immediately.
He turned the key to TIMER. The touch screen lit up. He tapped on the screen to enter the countdown, synchronizing the timer with his watch so that the rockets would ignite at exactly midnight. Then he selected LOCK OUT ALL CHANGES. Now only the countdown timer appeared.
Thirty minutes to go.
He withdrew the key. At this point, the only way to stop the launch was to reinsert the key and switch it to OFF. Even if someone threw the entire control case into the harbor, the countdown would continue.
Polk didn’t completely trust Lu’s mercenaries, even though they were all set to get a share of the profits if the attack was successful. There was always the possibility that one of them was a saboteur.
He walked out to the bridge wing and chucked the key in the harbor. Nobody was going to stop the launch now.
“Bring five men and come with me,” he said to the chief mercenary.
He took them down to cargo bay four. The rockets were arrayed in black tubes pointing straight into the sky. They’d already been uncovered and checked over earlier in the day.
At least Rathman had done his job to keep the cargo undamaged.
The seas between Nhulunbuy to Sydney could be rough, so each of the rockets had a safety pin to prevent accidental ignition. The pins were attached to red cloth ribbons marked REMOVE TO ARM.
“Take out of each one of these carefully,” Polk said to the men, holding up one of the ribbons. “Then bring them to me and I will dispose of them.” He planned to throw them overboard for the same reason he tossed the key.
In a ceremonial manner, Polk removed a ribbon, activating the first of the two hundred and ninety-eight rockets. He felt a tinge of excitement, knowing he was about to launch a New Year’s Eve party no one would ever forget.
SIXTY-SEVEN
At 11:31 p.m., Juan, dressed in black and carrying a suppressed Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine gun, pulled himself over the railing of the Centaurus. The ship’s lights were on, but he couldn’t feel the main engines idling through the metal deck.
Two of the ship’s four cargo bays were open. That could only mean that the rockets were being prepped for launch.
As Raven’s head peeked over the deck, he heard some footsteps coming from around the corner. He hissed into his molar mic the signal to halt. She stopped moving.
Juan unsheathed his KA-BAR knife and crouched behind a rope capstan. One of the mercenaries came around the corner, casually carrying a Chinese-made QCW-05 submachine gun with its own suppressor. He didn’t seem too concerned about a possible intrusion. Juan grabbed him from behind, putting his hand over the man’s mouth to silence him, and plunged the knife into his back. The mercenary struggled for a moment and went limp.
Juan hissed twice to give the all-clear. Raven finished her climb, followed by Eddie, Eric, Linc, and Sylvia.
Throwing the body overboard would cause too much noise, so Eddie dragged the body behind the capstan where they piled coils of loose rope over it.
Juan led them to the outer door of the superstructure. The accommodation block was five stories high. They would clear each floor one by one as they went up to the bridge.
On the first two stories, they quietly took out three men, one by Raven’s crossbow, two by knives, hiding the bodies as they went. On the third level, a mercenary munching on a bag of chips came out of the mess and stumbled into Sylvia. Juan was surprised to see her kick the man in the groin before he could react. Linc finished him by bashing his head against the doorframe.
Despite the ruckus, no alarm was sounded.
They dragged him into the empty galley next to the mess. This was their first shot at finding the antidote. They all had packable nylon duffels to transport the amount they needed for Murph and the rest of the paralyzed people. Six hundred and fifty doses would be enough.
The walk-in refrigerator would be the best place to stow the antidote. Juan opened the fridge and didn’t see any container that could have held a large supply of serum. Instead, he found a dead man with a bullet hole in his chest.
“Somebody made Polk mad,” Eddie said.
“Too bad it isn’t Polk himself,” Juan said. “Let’s keep going.”
They continued up the accommodation block, killing two more hostiles before they reached the bridge. One man was there. He scrambled to pick up his rifle, but Raven put him down silently.
Eric and Sylvia rushed over to the console where an open metal case was sitting on top. Juan sent Raven and Linc to search the captain’s cabin for the antidote.
“This is the rocket control panel,” Sylvia said. “It’s already been activated. Twenty minutes to launch.”
“Can you disarm it?”
Eric shook his head. “There’s no key.”
Linc came over, his gun raised like he was ready to bring the butt down on the panel. “What about smashing it?”
“That won’t work,” Sylvia said. “The MR-76 launch controller is a two-part system. If we destroy this or jam the signal, it won’t stop the countdown. We’d have to disable each individual rocket.”
“She’s right,” Eric said. “The only way to do it is to find the key and turn this back to off.”
“Could you pick the lock?” Eddie asked.
“It would be tricky, but we could try.”
Eddie handed Eric his lock-picking set.
“We still haven’t
found Polk,” Juan said. “He probably has the key. In the meantime, we can close the cargo holds to prevent the rockets from launching.”
He pushed the buttons to close the two open cargo bay doors.
Raven and Linc returned.
“No antidote,” Raven said.
“And we found a picture of the dead guy in the fridge. It was the captain.”
“We have to find Polk,” Juan said. He hadn’t been in the accommodation block, which left the engine rooms or the cargo holds.
The bridge had a camera link to the engineering area. The monitor showed both the main engine room and the room with the auxiliary generator.
Juan peered more closely at the screen and noticed something that caused him to tense.
“This ship has a citadel.”
“A what?” Sylvia asked.
“A citadel is like a safe room,” Eric said. “If pirates try to take over the ship, the crew can retreat to the citadel and lock it up tight. It’s usually stocked with plenty of food and water for a long siege.”
“If Polk finds out we’re here and goes to the citadel,” Juan said, “we probably won’t be able to break in before midnight. Raven, Eddie, you’re with me. We’re going to secure the citadel. Linc, stay here with Eric and Sylvia while they try to disable the launcher.”
They were already hunched over the control panel with the lock picks as Juan’s group sprinted for the stairwell.
* * *
—
As Polk emerged from the cargo hold onto the deck with his men, the cargo bay doors were closing.
“What is that guard on the bridge doing?” he asked, jogging toward the superstructure. When he got near the door, he slipped on some liquid on the deck. He thought it was oil until he looked more closely.
The small puddle looked black in the low light, but it had the unmistakable smell of blood.
He followed the droplets and found a shoe sticking out from underneath a pile of rope. They uncovered the dead body of one of the mercenaries.
Polk glared with rage. It had to be the work of the same group he’d fought against twice already.
“We’ve got intruders.”
He only hoped they hadn’t taken control of the citadel. He took the dead man’s submachine gun.
He glared at the security chief. “Take three men and secure the citadel. I’ll take the other two and go to the bridge. Kill anyone you see.”
Without waiting for a reply, he ran to the external stairs with his men and headed up to the bridge.
SIXTY-EIGHT
The citadel on the Centaurus was adjacent to the main engine room in the bowels of the ship. When Juan, Eddie, and Raven arrived, the inch-thick steel door was wide open. The three of them swarmed into the large, noisy space, ready to take down anyone inside, but it was vacant.
The two-story room housed the auxiliary generator as well as basic controls for steering the ship and communicating with the outside world. On the far side of the room were shelves stocked with pallets of water bottles and ready to eat meals. Beside it were several storage lockers. Stairs led up to a second door exiting to the next higher deck. A ventilation hatch in the ceiling thirty feet above them was tied down by a taut steel cable attached to the wall. The intent was to keep pirates from opening the hatch and spraying the citadel with gunfire or dropping grenades through it.
“Where is everyone?” Raven asked.
“I don’t know,” Juan said. “But at least Polk didn’t beat us here. That door looks like it could survive a nuclear blast.”
He closed and bolted the door to protect their rear while they searched the room. Eddie took the stairs to latch the other door.
He was about to pin the latch shut so that it couldn’t open when the door flew open. One of the mercenaries charged in with his submachine gun blazing, but Eddie was able to grab his arms before he could swing the weapon’s barrel toward him.
They were still wrestling when a second man entered. Juan and Raven couldn’t fire without fear of hitting Eddie, and the second man got off a volley in Raven’s direction. Juan could see the rounds stitch across her chest, and she went down.
Eddie used his leverage to force his guy over the railing, but the mercenary wouldn’t let go of Eddie. Together, they somersaulted through the air and landed on the steel deck, giving Juan a clear shot at his companion. He fired a three-round burst that snapped the man’s head back in a red mist of blood.
Eddie and his opponent continued their vicious fight, but Juan couldn’t go to his aid. Two more gunmen entered, this time more cautiously than the first two.
Juan dived behind the generator as bullets ripped into the metal. Raven, who was lying on the opposite side of the generator, groaned and grabbed her chest, her face a mask of pain. Juan reached out and snagged the shoulder strap of her ballistic vest, dragging her to him.
Juan stole a look over the top of the generator and saw the two men coming down the stairs. They sprayed the generator with rounds, causing Juan to pull back.
Raven pushed herself up with a grimace.
“Are you hurt?” Juan asked.
“Broken rib maybe.” Juan didn’t see any blood. The Level III plate on Raven’s body armor had done its job, but she would have some nasty bruises.
“Can you fight?”
She scowled at him. “Oh, yeah.”
“They may not know you’re still alive. I’ll give you an opening.” He handed her his MP5 and drew his pistol.
“Ready.” She crept to the other side of the generator.
Instead of looking over the top, Juan slid out on his belly, firing his weapon before he could see the target. He didn’t need to hit them. He was merely the decoy.
The two men ducked to the side, firing blindly at the source of his rounds. With their attention on him, Raven edged out and fired controlled bursts at each man. They were dead before they hit the floor.
Juan sprang to his feet and rushed over to Eddie. He was too late to help. Eddie had the strap of his MP5 wrapped around the man’s neck. The mercenary was motionless, and Eddie dropped the man’s head to free his weapon.
“Are you okay?” Juan asked, holding out his hand to help Eddie to his feet.
Eddie took the offered hand and hopped up on one foot.
“I think I fractured my ankle on that fall,” Eddie said. “This guy landed right on it, and I felt it snap.”
Juan helped him over to the stairs and sat him down on the first step. Juan didn’t want a surprise repeat, so he ran up to the door, nudged the dead man aside, and dogged it tight.
He clicked his molar mic. “Linc, we’ve had some trouble down here in the citadel.”
“I know,” Linc replied. “We saw the whole thing on the monitor. Wish I could have been there to give an assist.”
“You need to focus on getting those rockets deactivated. But we still don’t know where Polk is, so be on the lookout.”
“On it.”
“Chairman,” Raven called out to him. She bent over in pain and lowered her voice. “I think we may have something here.”
Juan went back down the stairs and over to Raven, who was standing by the lockers. One of them was secured with a combination padlock.
“There’s something valuable in here.”
“Let’s take a look.”
Juan retrieved the portable bolt cutter that Eddie carried. It took several tries to cut through the heavy lock, but it finally came loose.
The locker opened, revealing that it was full from top to bottom with five large aluminum boxes.
Juan removed one of them and unlatched its clasp. It was crammed with smaller packs of plastic containers. He lifted the lid on one.
The pack contained a dozen vials like those used in hospitals for dispensing intravenous drugs. Each vial was carefully snugged in a protective c
ushion.
He plucked one of the vials from the container. It held ten cc’s of a clear liquid. The vial was marked “Serum NVL.” Juan remembered the same letters from the Roman amphora he tried to recover from the buried Salacia. Nux viridi lucus was the cure they had discovered for their own paralytic agent two thousand years ago.
“The antidote,” Raven said. She turned to Eddie. “We got it.”
He gave her a thumbs-up.
“Looks like we did,” Juan said. “We’ll need about sixty of these packs.”
“These boxes are too bulky to carry.”
“Let’s start loading them into the duffels. With the cushioning, they should be able to survive some jostling.”
Juan keyed his mic.
“Max, do you read?”
“Here,” Max said. “Time’s getting short. Thirteen minutes left. Do you have good news?”
“We do indeed,” Juan replied with a smile. “Tell Murph that we’ve got his cure.”
His good spirits were short-lived, however. A single word came through on his earpiece. It was Sylvia’s voice.
“Gas.”
SIXTY-NINE
The attempt to pick the lock on the rocket launch controller had been going nowhere. Sylvia, looking around the room for a possible hiding place for the key, had suggested that the mercenaries they’d killed on the bridge might have had it in his pocket the whole time. Eric seemed convinced Polk would be the one who had it, but she thought she might as well give it a shot and search the dead man.
While Linc stood behind Eric watching all of the entrances to the bridge, and Eric stayed focused on the control panel, Sylvia had gone to the other side of the bridge where the mercenary had been dragged out of the way.
She was going through his pockets when the door on the other side of the bridge cracked open, and a canister was tossed through. It popped open and started spewing white smoke.
“Gas!” she yelled.
Linc didn’t have time to react. The gas grenade had landed between his feet. He keeled over onto the floor like a cedar tree that had been chopped down.
Marauder Page 29
