His mind raced with scenarios, as she moved in the metal space above him for a few moments, until her face appeared, directly overhead.
“Think Entebbe,” she said.
He nodded, remembering the mass kidnapping that had sparked a rescue operation led by Israeli commandoes that, more than forty years later, remained a textbook problem for security strategists. “Got it. Assuming we have another mass kidnapping—which at this time seems damn well likely—then Entebbe could be a similar situation. The plane was hijacked over Greece, but the terrorists rerouted the flight all the way to Uganda, where Idi Amin welcomed them.”
She nodded. “Imagine’s top speed is nineteen knots. Relatively slow. Right?”
“Correct. The following ship—let’s name it Follower—is smaller and probably faster. If I were taking the guests aboard Imagine hostage, I’d transfer them to Follower. The smaller ship would be easier to conceal. I’d take them to my safe harbor, wherever that might be, leaving Imagine behind as a decoy. So, this situation has the potential to become an Entebbe-type situation, with the twist of a second transport vehicle.”
She nodded, a grim expression in her eyes. “Brilliant. If you were a pirate, you might get away with it. Hand me your backpack.”
He bent, lifted his backpack, then hoisted it overhead. As she grabbed it, his fingers grazed hers. Their gazes locked. “No wild heroics, Leo.”
“Understood.”
“Seriously. Keep your ass safe. I will be…” He had to clear his throat to spit out the words. “…fucking pissed if you get…hurt.”
Behind her face mask, something flashed in her eyes as she looked down at him. Concern. Uncertainty. After all, she knew his goddamn history. While her eyes reflected worry for him, though, her tone was one of pure irritation. “And you’d say this to Kamin, Stills, or Ryan? Any of our other agents onboard?”
Crap. She has me. I mixed personal feelings with business, and I didn’t even realize I was doing it.
“You’re lucky I didn’t punch you in the nose for that lapse. Be glad you’re wearing a mask that would’ve broken my hand. I’m ready to go kick some pirate ass. Don’t distract me. Let’s do this.”
She was fierce, his Leo. Fierce and well trained. He had to take his emotions, high at the moment, out of the equation. She was right. Of course, she was. A bam-bam sounded as the door of the suite next to them banged open. Pounding of heavy footsteps echoed.
“Hurry.” The helmet mic picked up urgency in her low hiss.
“No shit. Get moving,” he said. “Towards the stern.”
He was damn glad he hadn’t let up on pull-ups, arm exercises, or Parkour drills in recent months. Using hand and arm strength, core strength, and every muscle fiber he could call upon, he jumped and pulled himself up and into the tunnel-like space. When his feet were in, he belly-crawled backwards, then slid the cover into place and reinserted the entry panel’s screws. As he worked on the third screw, pounding on the door of their suite echoed.
With their backpacks on, Ace and Leo barely had space to move. Walls, floor, and ceiling of the crawl space were stainless steel, covered with a hard, marine quality composite. The floor held tubes that contained the complex wiring required for various systems—electrical, inter-ship comms, routers and boosters for Wi-Fi. The HVAC system ran overhead, composed of rectangular, sheet-metal ducts through which heating, cooling, air filtration, and ozone injection systems worked. The proliferation of access panels to the crawl space, in every suite, hallway, and stairwell, were an indication of how many things could go wrong with the ship’s systems.
Below them, as he finished with the fourth screw, the door to their suite gave way with a sharp crack. He lingered long enough over the vent to see five men spill inside, speaking a mix of Mandarin and English. Doors bounced as they were flung open. Shit was thrown around as they searched. The balcony door slid until it thudded. Chairs thumped on carpet as they were overturned.
As he and Leo silently retreated directly over their heads, Ace whispered, “Five males. What was that reference to Skylar?”
“They’re reporting to him. They were telling him there was no sign of Chloe and Zack in the room. It seems that other guests are missing from the roundup too. I couldn’t catch names.”
Ace caught up to her where the crawl space widened enough for them to move side by side. “Mandarin again,” he said. “Not only are they speaking the primarily language of Quan Security, that company had access to the ship for weeks.”
“Correct. It’s walking like a duck, Ace. It makes sense that Quan would be involved, in some capacity. Maybe it isn’t the entirety of the security company that’s corrupt, but the team that is aboard Imagine is the likely culprit. Quan had the same intel we had. Passenger data. Ship schematics and systems.” She shot Ace a sideways glance. “Including the air handlers.”
He nodded. Wiring system tubes rolled under his hands and knees as he crawled. They had thirty yards to go. Not comfortable, but doable. “And Quan had access to information regarding the guests—who’s who, and how much wealth they represent.”
“The security company was hired by Imagine Casinos Worldwide,” she said. “Could Baru be behind this?”
Ace considered whether Baru could be the perp, as a faint pop-pop-pop of gunfire erupted from over their heads, on the Melpomene Deck. They halted. Given the distance they’d travelled through the crawl space, he pegged the firefight as being in the vicinity of the spa. When the gunfire quieted, they continued on.
In a low whisper, he said, “I’m not sure what Baru would gain from it. This cruise is giving him even more of the prestige he craves in the gambling world, putting him on par with all of the big houses. I don’t think he’d sabotage it. Have you noticed how proud he is?”
“Beaming. As though he’s spit-polished every inch of this ship himself.” She paused as they reached a vertical return vent. With the connected ductwork, the apparatus took up half the space.
“You first.”
She slipped off her backpack, then turned to her side to slide around it.
“I’d vote for the pirates wanting Ling and May Wen.” Ace moved around the ductwork, then caught up to her. “They’re the biggest ticket items on board. The rest of the guests might simply be bonus extras.”
She nodded. “But the rest of the guests are high ticket leverage to use in the negotiation process.”
“About ten more yards in here, then we open the panel at the end and go down one flight of stairs. From there, we’ll access the crawl space above the Clio deck. We’ll see what’s happening in the theater, then split up at the forward stairwell.”
About five feet before the end of the crawl space, there was enough room for him to crawl past Leo. He directed her to hang back as he got to work removing the entry panel on the vertical wall. “It’s pretty tight.”
Klunk.
“Our tool’s silent, but given that we’re working with heavy metal, gravity will cause that klunk. Which means you’re risking exposure if someone’s within earshot on the other side.”
He glanced over his shoulder in time to catch her eye roll.
“Stating the obvious again.” A bit of a smile played at her lips. “I get it. It’s a quirk. You do it even when you’re not a team leader, you know. Sometimes it’s irritating.” She shrugged. “Mostly it’s not.”
He scowled. As he slid the panel aside, from overhead in the stairwell, he heard footsteps.
“Ace—”
“Got it. Stand down.”
Glock drawn, he slipped through the opening. Disobeying his instruction, Leo immediately came through, on his right. Just as he rose to his feet, two men, wearing camouflage gear, walked down the stairs, side by side. Chatting, with no situational awareness. Mistake. One was a blond Caucasian. The other was Asian. No respirators. Good to know. No safety helmets. Big mistake. The two men were gripping assault rifles. They started to lift them. Fatal mistake.
Leo shot the one on the right
between his eyebrows. Ace took out the guy on the left. Both tumbled down the stairs, coming to rest on the landing at their feet.
Ace checked for pulses. Both dead. “You didn’t follow orders. I told you to stand down. That means to maintain your position, which—”
“I know what it means.” She unstrapped the dead men’s watches. “You were being protective.”
“Damn straight, and that has nothing to do with what’s happening between us. It’s all about your role being critical to our mission. Of the two of us, you’re more likely to establish a connection to the outside world. Your mission won’t be accomplished if you unnecessarily throw yourself in harm’s way without regard to safety. Understand?”
“Understood. Should I remain at attention for your reprimand, or may I figure out their comm system?”
As anger flashed in her eyes, he told himself not to let personal feelings interfere. Yet no matter how much firepower or gear she carried, no matter how serious their situation, he couldn’t help but notice the wisps of chestnut hair escaping her helmet to curl towards her jawline and cheekbones.
While her eyes conveyed the gritty determination he’d expect from any agent, she couldn’t control the flush of pink in her cheeks. He knew her well enough to know that it came from excitement, stress, and the incredible energy produced by her incomparable brain. Fuck-it-all-to-hell, to him, her flush made her human.
Not superhuman.
Which made her vulnerable. Which made him think of how precarious their position was and how easy it would be for a well-aimed bullet to mortally strike her in any one of a number of places, despite her protective gear.
“Well?” She held up the hand that held the watch and earbud, wiggling the equipment in his direction.
Cocky. Gorgeous. Confident, and damn well focused on her mission. Goddammit, but he was totally into her. Every single facet of her, even the part of her that would make her a handful on any job, for any team leader. Given her brilliance, her unparalleled technical capabilities, and off-the-charts field skills, having her on a job was well worth a bit of attitude. He wasn’t the only agent who thought so. To his knowledge, they all did. “Carry on.”
After stripping the dark-haired man of his earbud, she sat on the bottom stair. He removed the blonde man’s comm gear and handed the guy’s watch to her. He kept the blond guy’s earbud, though. He studied the small plastic device. “Looks similar to what we had before we moved to implants.”
“Yep, and their watches are similar to what we use now. Capacitive touchscreen. Won’t work with gloves. Hopefully, it’s not fingerprint enabled. That would be a real pain in the ass.” She touched the watch face with her index finger and pressed. “Nope. We’ll be able to manipulate. It’s got cellular and Wi-Fi capabilities. Defaulting to their comm system and operating on a closed channel. When we insert the buds into our ears, we’ll be live. So, don’t put it in until I figure out how to mute it.”
Ace slipped the bud into his pocket for safekeeping until she directed otherwise. He went through the two men's pockets as she studied their comm system. He pulled out phones and tossed them to her. He found metal clips with identification cards. He glanced at the cards briefly. “Steffan Wendt, from Frankfurt. Lee Yang. Beijing.”
“Lucky.”
“That occurred to me as well.” They were in luck from a communication perspective, because Ace spoke German fluently. He could speak English with a slight German accent almost as easily as he spoke English without any accent at all. “Mute button? Figured it out yet?”
“Testing it.”
“Override buttons are on the side.” She turned the thick watches sideways, holding them up and squinting. “Red’s probably mute.”
“Probably? Doesn’t sound very analytical.” Ace lifted Wendt, then slid him into the crawl space he and Leo had just come from to enter the stairwell.
“Sometimes even Ragno makes a guess. You know that, don’t you?” She pressed the watch, then inserted Yang’s earbud into her ear. “Yep. Red button mutes the system. Green means go. Channels are manipulated on the watch face. There are plenty of options programmed, but these watches both default to their comm system. Earbud’s good to go.”
Ace lifted Yang and shoved him into the crawl space next to Wendt. “What channels are active?” he asked, as he slipped Wendt’s earbud into his ear.
“There are varying degrees of static on a few lines, channel four in particular. Your earbud is on line four now.”
He listened to hums, clicks, and static. “Encryption?”
“Possibly. It would take me some time to crack it. I’d have to route the calls to Ragno’s encryption team to do it. Bingo. Line sixteen. Clear chatter. I’m setting Wendt’s comm to that line now.”
On line sixteen, Ace heard a male voice, English. Midwestern twang. “Childs. Calling Skylar.”
He glanced at Leo.
She nodded. “I hear it.”
“Copy,” a male answered, in terse English. “Skylar to Childs. Proceed.”
“Medics and assistance needed on the Euterpe Deck,” Childs said. “Suite 510. Blackwell. Todd and Nina. The Blackwells are gone.”
Leo handed Ace the watch and smartphone that had belonged to Wendt. “I disabled GPS capabilities.”
“The Blackwells apparently left their suite through an access panel in the floor,” Childs was saying. “Phuong is dead. Shot in the chest. Bei was shot in the neck. He needs a medic. ASAP.”
“Goddammit. We knew the Blackwells both carried weapons,” Skylar said. “Bei and Phuong should have been more careful.”
“James is going after the Blackwells,” Childs said. “I’ll apply pressure on Bei’s wound till the medics arrive.”
“No,” Skylar said. “Go with James.”
Leo and Ace locked glances. Skylar’s order might’ve just been a death knell for his man, Bei. He’d given the order without hesitating. Even with a bit of irritation underlying his words.
Skylar continued, “Keep me updated. Attention. All operatives. The guests who are unaccounted for are now Ling Wen, May Wen, Todd Blackwell, Nina Blackwell, Chloe St. Laurent, and Zack Abrams. Here are your orders. Childs and James, continue searching for the Blackwells.” Skylar rattled through an extensive list of names and directed them to find the Wens. A shorter list was to find St. Laurent and Abrams. “We cannot commence Phase Two without these people. Find. Them. Now.”
Line sixteen went silent.
“Good to know they’re still in Phase One,” Leo said.
“Whatever that means.” Ace replaced the panel that led to the crawl space, while Leo rechecked the other lines on the comm system. “Other than their line four, the only other line currently in use is channel sixteen. Line four remains a series of clicks and static. Sixteen is the only line that is clear.”
“Bei, Phuong, Childs, James, Wendt, Yang, Skylar.” Ace repeated the names that they’d heard. “Those names mean anything to you?”
“No. Adam Evans and Sylvia Leon wouldn’t mean anything to them either. Seems like we aren’t the only ones aboard using fake names.”
After replacing the bolts, Ace used the ball of his fist on each corner of the panel, until the seams blended with the adjoining wall. He glanced around. “No surveillance cams, here or down these stairs, which will take us to the crawl space above the Clio Deck. It’s a long crawl space, spanning the entire enclosed area on the deck, almost from stern to bow. Gives us a straight shot over the casino, the foyer between the casino and the theater, and then over the theater. We’ll check out what’s happening there. Then we’ll go our separate ways.”
As she nodded, he followed her gaze upwards, to the white walls of the stairwell. His glance took in the telltale signs of the two close-range shots that had taken down Wendt and Yang. Red splatter. Definitely visible. Larger drops, red blood and gray matter, were on the stairs. Although the bodies were hidden, in the crawl space, Ace and Leo didn’t have time to deal with the rest of the cleanup.
As they ran down the stairs, they detached their respirators from their helmets and strapped them onto their tool belts. At the next landing, he paused at an entry panel that provided access to the crawl space above the Clio deck, while she faced the opposite way, standing guard at his side with her Sig drawn.
She asked, “What do you think Skylar’s Phase Two is?”
“Kidnappings typically require communicating with a third party to let them know that you have hostages, correct?”
“Correct. Kidnappers have to make demand to a third party—'I’ve hijacked Imagine. Pay up. Free prisoners. Give my country a nuclear weapon. A billion dollars.’ Or whatever.”
He removed the first screw that held the access panel to the wall. As he answered her, he slipped it in his pocket for refastening from the inside. “And given the diverse nationalities of Imagine’s guests, and their wealth and importance, the demand will provoke an international incident.”
She nodded. “Macau is a Special Administrative Region of China, a huge revenue generator. Both Macau and China would be involved. Given the number of Americans aboard, the U.S. would cooperate.”
“Sure hope so,” Ace said, removing the second screw, then getting to work on the third. “China should deploy everything it has to keep Macau appearing safe. There is also the Ling Wen factor. He’s got folk hero status, given the philanthropic reforms he pushed through the Chinese government. The scholarship system that he personally funds makes him a celebrity.”
“China will lead. People’s Liberation Army Air Force is pretty damn awesome.”
He nodded as he worked on the panel. “Agreed. The PLA is mighty, and China would deploy jets, ships, and submarines to protect Wen. Intel has been telling us for years that China is building up military installations in the South China Sea. Now could be the time for them to flex their muscle. U.S. military installations in the area are scant, but there are enough in the Philippines to provide aid. Even with a false radar image and false coordinates, the cavalry will find Imagine in a matter of hours once the ransom demand is made. The likelihood of getting away once the cavalry focuses on Imagine is pretty slim—that is, if the operation is still aboard this ship.”
Imagine (Black Raven Book 4) Page 10
