Oath of Honor

by Matthew Betley

  Trouble certainly seems to find you guys, Cole thought as he ran to catch up. The UOE members followed them once again.

  ———

  As Logan ran for his life, there was a sudden scream of pain from behind, but he didn’t dare turn around. He knew from experience that he couldn’t help whoever had been hit until he had eliminated the immediate threat.

  Insurgent snipers used wounded US servicemen as bait, often killing two or three more who tried to help before finishing off the initial target. That brutal and gut-wrenching lesson had been ingrained in every military member who stepped foot on Iraqi soil, and this situation was no different. Logan knew if he stopped, he and the others would likely die.

  The high-pitched roar of the twin Gatling guns was deafening. Bullets tore into the deck around them. Large chunks of nonskid surface flew into the air and peppered their backs and legs. Logan briefly recalled sprinting the length of the inner cavern of the Haditha Dam two years earlier and redoubled his efforts.

  An open hatch to a small observation room on the first deck was directly in front of him. He ran faster. Just a few more seconds. Please God.

  Logan dove through the dark opening as the large glass window disintegrated under the withering fire. He landed on his side, slid on the smooth floor, and scrambled furiously to hide behind the observation room’s wall.

  Two figures burst into the room behind him and found cover even as bullets devoured the entryway. Inspector Romero and one UOE member crouched next to Logan.

  “Where’s Alexia?” Logan shouted over the din of the barrage.

  Inspector Romero shook his head. “No idea,” he exclaimed, breathing hard. “But it doesn’t matter, because if we don’t figure out a way to take out that bird, we’re all dead.”

  Logan nodded, cringing as .50-caliber slugs struck a flat-panel monitor on the wall across from him. It exploded in a shower of sparks, flame, and smoke. Smoke.

  “Hold on a sec,” Logan said, and grabbed an M18 smoke grenade off his vest. “This might at least buy us a little time,” he said as he pulled the pin and lobbed it out the shattered window.

  Logan heard a small pop followed by the hsssssss of white smoke escaping the canister. He looked around the room for options. Another hatch opposite the doorway led deeper into the ship. No good. And then he saw it—a metal ladder in the far corner of the room led up a small well secured by a hatch. It led to the roof of the observation area. Bingo.

  “You know how to use that effectively?” Logan asked the surviving UOE member as he pointed at the XM25 automatic grenade launcher slung across the commando’s back.

  “Absolutely,” the Spaniard replied.

  “Good. Follow me.” Logan glanced through the doorway and saw a haze of white smoke thickening by the second. He knew it wouldn’t last long, especially if the AH-6 moved closer.

  As he crawled toward the ladder, he turned to Inspector Romero and said, “As soon as we open fire, do the same. If we’re lucky, we’ll knock him out of the sky; if we’re not, we’ll likely be dead.”

  Logan reached the ladder and climbed. He grabbed the hatch, twisted the lever, and pushed upward. Another burst from the Gatling guns lanced through the smoke and struck the room below.

  Fate was on their side, at least for the moment. A large exhaust vent directly adjacent to the hatch concealed them from the view of the AH-6 pilot.

  Logan emerged from the opening onto the roof and transitioned into a prone position next to the vent. The UOE commando slid next to him and removed the XM25 grenade launcher from his back. He made an adjustment on the weapon and waited.

  The smoke had thickened into an amorphous white barrier that seemed to shift with the movement of the ship. The helicopter was hidden in its midst, a flying predator waiting to strike. Won’t last much longer.

  “Wait for it. As soon as you have its outline, take him out,” Logan said to his UOE brother-in-arms as he aimed his MP5 toward the AH-6’s anticipated position on the other side of the smoke. They didn’t have to wait long.

  Instead of slowly dissipating, the smoke screen was blasted apart by a sudden gust of wind. It disintegrated into tiny wisps of translucent haze that danced on the deck before vanishing completely, mesmerizing and terrifying them at the same time.

  Oh shit, Logan thought. They were now completely exposed. His fear was confirmed as the nose of the AH-6 suddenly tilted upward and aimed the twin Gatling guns at them.

  “Now!” Logan screamed as he stared directly into the menacing face of the AH-6. It’s too late. And then he saw what loomed behind the war machine, and his jaw dropped in disbelief.

  From behind the AH-6, the enormous steel arm of a crane slammed into the tail of the helicopter like an angry metal giant swatting an annoying insect.

  Logan heard several bursts of automatic gunfire from the observation room, but he also thought he heard guns blasting away from other positions on the deck.

  The impact from the crane violently turned the helicopter sideways and exposed its left side to Logan and the UOE commando, who pulled the trigger on the XM25.

  Thwoosh!

  The 25mm grenade sailed toward the hovering killing machine with expert aim and into the open-air compartment behind the cockpit. The UOE commando had set the detonating distance to match that of the AH-6, and the high-explosive airburst round exploded in a magnificent display of destruction.

  BOOM!

  The supersonic shockwave shredded the interior of the helicopter. A secondary explosion as the fuel tank ignited split the wounded bird in half, engulfing the rear section in flames. The back half was propelled away from the cockpit and fell to the deck. An earsplitting metallic screech reached them as the gearbox disintegrated and the rotor blades were torn apart.

  Logan watched in amazement as a large chunk of one blade sliced into the cockpit on the pilot’s side and lodged itself halfway through the glass. Grimly, he thought, I hope he was already dead.

  The front half of the AH-6 plummeted to the deck and bounced forward. It came to rest against the ship’s railing, a dead metal husk.

  The sounds of battle were silenced. The helicopter’s wreckage sizzled and popped on the deck. The stench of cordite, smoke, and fuel filled the air. At least the bullets have stopped. Time to take the bridge, Logan thought.

  “Let’s go,” Logan said to the UOE commando, then paused and added, “ ‘Absolutely’ is right. Nice shot—but how’d you get it to detonate inside? I thought they were airburst grenades.”

  The professional killer smiled. “They are, but I got his distance from the laser range finder the second I got up here and set it. The damn gun’s so smart, it transmits the data to the grenade itself.” He gestured dramatically with one arm. “And voilà!” he said, and looked at the remains of his kill with the pride of a veteran hunter.

  “Good to go,” Logan said, and climbed back through the hatch down to the observation room.

  Inspector Romero stood outside and looked up at the bridge four levels above them. The fiery wreckage emitted an eerie glow that illuminated the deck and distorted the shadows. “We need to get up there,” he said as Logan and the commando joined him.

  Logan looked up to see the other UOE commandos slowly working their way up the outside of the structure. Before he could reply, a voice spoke from nearby. “Logan, you really know how to make an entrance,” John Quick said as he approached with Cole Matthews and the UOE team in tow. “I came around the corner just in time to see your new friend fire the grenade launcher as the crane batted the bird out of the sky. It almost wasn’t a fair fight,” he finished, grinning crazily.

  “As always, a day late and a dollar short,” Logan responded sarcastically. “Sounds like you had some excitement on your side of the ship.” He paused, and added seriously, “We lost at least one man and our helo got knocked out of the sky into the sea. Status unknown, but it didn’t sound good.”

  “We took one casualty, but he should make it. There’s a man with hi
m now.”

  The sound of running footsteps interrupted the impromptu reunion. Through the smoke and flames of the wreckage, the running figure of Commander Alexia appeared.

  “What happened to you?” Logan asked with relief in his voice. “I thought their bird got you.” And then it hit him—the crane operator. “That was you on the crane, wasn’t it?”

  Commander Alexia nodded grimly. “Sergeant Artiga didn’t make it. The gunfire got him as we dove for cover since we knew we couldn’t make it to the structure. We were too far back to make a run. So I circled back to the crane along the starboard side.”

  Logan was impressed.

  “Like your Navy SEALS, taking a ship is a primary mission for us. You never know when you’ll need to know how to use a crane.”

  “Indeed, Commander Alexia. Nicely done, and I’m truly sorry about your man,” Logan said sincerely. “But we need to secure the bridge as soon as possible. Can you radio the raft teams and tell them to secure the deck and begin evacuating casualties? See if you can get the surviving helo to radio the Castilla to send a rescue team to search for survivors where our bird went down. Ask our pilot to stand by near us, though. Also, ask the raft teams not to search the ship until we know it’s clear. There could be more of these guys hiding or setting up booby traps. Please order the team on the structure to remain outside the bridge until I get up there. I want to be the first one in to talk to the captain. I’ll find out if he has any other surprises in store for us.”

  Commander Alexia nodded and turned to speak quickly into his throat microphone.

  Logan looked at John, Cole, and Inspector Romero. “You guys ready to finish this thing?” he asked. Reflected flames flickered across his green eyes and magnified the intensity of his gaze.

  “The sooner the better,” Cole answered.

  “Good,” Logan said, and turned to climb the nearest ladder to the ship’s second level.

  CHAPTER 15

  Logan crouched on the right side of the bridge door below the ledge of the windows. He held his Kimber .45 at an angle in front of him. John, Cole, and Inspector Romero stacked up behind him in formation.

  There was silence from inside.

  Logan signaled the UOE commando on the opposite side of the doorway and held up his left fist before making a knifing gesture toward the door and grabbing the levered handle.

  The commando pulled the pin on an M84 flash grenade and waited.

  Logan pulled the lever quickly and pushed the door inward.

  Shots from inside shattered the window of the door as the hardened UOE commando threw the flash grenade into the enclosed space. Moments later, the relative calm that had settled over the embattled ship was blown away.

  BOOM!

  The sudden blinding light was followed by the concussive force of a 180-decibel explosion. The remaining windows shattered, and glass fell on the UOE commandos surrounding the bridge.

  Logan’s ears still rang as he entered the bridge with his pistol up and surveyed the scene.

  Only one occupant remained. A man Logan recognized as the captain from all those years ago knelt on his hands and knees near a control panel fifteen feet to the right of the doorway. The grenade had detonated less than two feet from him. He shook his head from side to side in an obvious attempt to clear the ringing in his ears. Logan saw blood trickling from his right ear. Shattered eardrum—our bad, he smirked unsympathetically.

  The captain sensed movement from his right and staggered to his feet. He whirled to face his attackers. As he turned, Logan glimpsed a small device in the captain’s right hand. A trigger detonator, Logan thought in horror, and his reflexes took control.

  Logan raised his pistol so quickly that to John it looked like he was still extending it as the Kimber roared to life with a single loud shot. The bullet struck the captain directly between the eyes and created a small hole that immediately oozed dark blood. The captain’s head rolled back as death gripped him and his hands tensed in response. It was just enough to compress the trigger in one last destructive act of defiance.

  “I wish we’d done that the first time we met that asshole,” John muttered.

  Logan didn’t have time for a response. From deep within the bowels of the ship, a series of muffled explosions rocked the North Korean vessel. The thunderous crescendo built in intensity as the large cargo ship suddenly lurched to the port side.

  “Everyone off now! She’s sinking and going fast! Get the helo up here. I don’t want to swim back to Spain.” Logan looked around the bridge. Come on—come on—come on. There has to be something that we can use. Then he saw it—gotcha!

  He scrambled to the control panel, grabbed the folded laptop computer, and threw it into the small black backpack he wore. Better than nothing at all, he thought, and exited the bridge for the last time.

  The UOE commandos had recognized the imminent danger after the first explosion. By the time Logan joined the rest of the men on the walkway, the Spanish operators were halfway down the structure. Inspector Romero and Cole were with them. John was the only one waiting.

  “We’re not having good luck with ships this week. I hope you’re still swim qual’d, because if we don’t move quickly, we’re going to get wet,” John said, sarcastically referring to the swim qualification requirement that all Marines maintained.

  As if on cue, the bow of the ship slowly began to lower into the black sea, lifting the stern slightly out of the water.

  The two men rushed down the ladders to join the rest of the assault force, which had already evacuated onto either the boats or the remaining NH90.

  Another muffled explosion reached their ears as they hit the deck. The rate at which the ship was sinking suddenly increased, and Logan and John found themselves facing a thirty-degree slope.

  The NH90 helicopter hovered forty feet away. It was blocked from moving any closer by the crane’s enormous arm, which had come to rest on the deck after knocking the AH-6 out of the sky.

  Logan and John scrambled up the deck’s nonskid surface. A loud, wrenching metallic shriek mixed with the roar of rushing water.

  This is going to be close, Logan thought, and pushed himself harder.

  The ship suddenly lifted higher and tilted portside. Logan and John were knocked off their feet and began to slide down the deck’s surface toward the ship’s main structure.

  As they fell, they grabbed the railing that ran along the base of the crane, hanging suspended at a precarious angle.

  Logan looked up and behind him to see the enormous stern of the ship sticking out of the water like some monstrous creature yearning to touch the sky. The stars and moon in front of him were disorienting, and he looked around for options. He didn’t see the helicopter. At least the pilot got the rest of the team out. Only a few more seconds, and we’re going under, he thought.

  “It’s just like fucking Titanic!” John screamed.

  Logan smiled at his friend. “Maybe, but I’m not holding your hand! If we’re lucky, we can break the pull and kick our way to the surface.” Both men knew the biggest threat would be the moment the ship went under the surface. The suction created by the sinking vessel would pull them and everything else near it to the bottom, even if they let go of their death grips on the railing.

  A loud screeching grabbed their attention, and they looked up just in time to see the crane’s gigantic metal arm arcing toward them as gravity pulled it downward.

  It swung over their heads and stopped, the metallic arm pointing directly into the water, which had engulfed the base of the superstructure. They watched in disbelief as the sea appeared to devour it, slowly rising up its outer surface. The churning water was an angry, amorphous leviathan eager to claim its prize.

  The sudden sound of rotors and the downdraft of the NH90 broke their fascination. As soon as the crane had shifted, the pilot—who’d pulled the helicopter away from the ship as it rose up from the sea—seized his opportunity and moved in closer to them.

  The hel
icopter hovered fifteen feet away and directly in front of them. Logan saw movement in the open passenger compartment. What the hell?

  Something long and heavy unfurled in the air like twin snakes striking and crashed into the deck six feet below them. A rope ladder!

  The lights on the ship went out, and their world became a dark roar of rotor blades, rushing water, and screeching metal. Logan felt the wind increase as the waterline closed in on them. “Now!” he screamed, and released his grip. He fell into the shifting shadows.

  I don’t need to be told twice, John thought, and let go. He plummeted a short distance and felt the nonskid surface grab at his clothes. He held his arms out in front of him. Please, God, be there.

  Thwack! A rung from the ladder smashed into John’s forehead, but he felt his left arm slide between two other rungs below it. He secured his left arm to his chest with his right and held on for dear life. Freezing water suddenly drenched his boots and engulfed his legs. An unfamiliar panic gripped him. The violent din of the water consumed his world, and he squeezed the rope ladder even tighter.

  The ladder went taut, and John was violently pulled upward and out of the roiling sea below. He swung freely on the ladder and wrapped his right leg through it—and struck something with a wet boot. He looked down to see Logan dangling from the rope ladder several rungs below him, soaking wet. He’d accidentally kicked him in the face.

  “Nice of you to join me!” John shouted into Logan’s upturned face. But his sense of humor failed him as he glimpsed the deathtrap they’d barely escaped.

  Logan turned back toward the ship below just in time to see the top of the bridge disappear under the surface. All that remained visible of the cargo ship was the stern. Flashes of light danced across the submerged ship as major electrical systems failed. As the stern slipped into the dark abyss moments later, a burst of light erupted under the water, illuminating the ruined ship in one last garish, ghostly image. And then it was gone, descending to the bottom of the Alboran Sea and Davy Jones’ Locker. The Wonjo Buhwal was no more.