by Mack Maloney
All it takes is one …
They spent the next few minutes taking inventory of their ammunition supply. The results were disheartening.
They had six M4s between them, all of them adapted to be belt fed. The problem was they had more empty belts than full ones. In all they had just 223 rounds. Split six ways, that was not a lot. In any kind of major firefight, 223 rounds could be gone in a matter of seconds.
Gunner’s ammo supply was especially low. He’d gone ashore at Gottabang with a full load in his Streetsweeper—but he’d expended 95 percent of his shells in the battle against the beach’s security forces and while repelling the first two pirate attacks. Now he had just three shells left, all of them of the incendiary variety.
Each man also had a Beretta sidearm—but there were no extra clips for them. And there were definitely no other firearms on the ship, nor were any of the Korean crewmen armed.
At the end of it, Gunner said, “We might be kinda screwed here.”
Nolan could only agree. “We’ve got to come up with some other kind of weapon,” he said. “Something outside the box.”
Gunner looked around the barren bridge. “Something like what? There’s not much of anything on this tub.”
Nolan asked one of the Senegals to retrieve the ship’s original crew. Within a minute, the four Korean sailors were on the bridge. Though they’d stayed in the mess hall with Emma and the ninety-nine refugees during the previous two attacks, after viewing the aftermath of those battles, they were well aware what Alpha was capable of.
Yet, they were hardly soldiers, and when Nolan told them he thought the pirates were going to attack again, the Koreans became very nervous. Then Nolan asked them: Were there any other weapons aboard the ship? Anything at all?
The crew members settled down enough to think. Through hand signs and rough English they confirmed there were no guns aboard. Nothing along those lines.
But maybe …
The four men disappeared below deck, but within another minute, two were back. They were carrying a bucket filled with a thick red liquid.
Though it looked like blood, Nolan recognized it as hydraulic fluid.
The sailors explained that in one of their last bits of duty, on the day before the ship was due to be broken, they had drained all hydraulic pipes on board, simply to save the workers on the beach from doing the messy job. The fluid itself had been poured into empty diesel barrels; four were now located in the ship’s cargo hold.
But what good would this be?
“Make hot,” one of the crewmen said. “Dump on bandits. Burn skin…”
Nolan looked at Gunner, who just shrugged.
“Boil that stuff up and pour it on someone coming up a ladder?” he said. “Could be nasty.”
The other two Koreans arrived. They were carrying a box containing an array of kitchen knives, ranging in size from a dinner knife to a butcher’s cleaver to something that resembled a cutlass.
A chill went through everyone on the bridge. If a fight ever came to the point of using some of these things as weapons, then it really would be a battle for their lives.
Nolan started to thank the Korean sailors, but then each one took a couple long knives and put them in their belts.
Again through rough English one explained: “This is still our ship. This time, we will stand and fight with you.”
* * *
NOLAN DRAGGED HIMSELF to his feet and left the bridge. There was something else he had to do. He had to talk to Emma.
He went below, hoping to find her asleep. Like the rest of them, it seemed as if she hadn’t stopped moving for more than a few minutes since they’d embarked on this bizarre voyage.
He headed to the mess hall where most of the Gottabang refugees were sleeping on cots and blankets. Nolan had spent a good deal of his adult life killing people. Throughout his years in Delta Force, on both large and small ops, and then in his second career hunting down pirates, there had been only one objective: Get rid of the bad guys.
Now, he was realizing that saving lives actually took a lot more energy than taking them.
He went through the mess hall, but Emma was not there. He walked past the ship’s tiny sick bay, but she was not there either. He finally went to the makeshift hospital they’d set up in the ship’s galley. This was where he found her.
She was sitting in the corner with an infant in her arms, frantically applying cold water to the baby’s forehead. The baby was crying, but even as Nolan approached he could tell its cries were getting faint.
Emma would not give up, though. Water to the forehead, slipping bits of food between the lips. Hugging the infant, rocking back and forth, she was trying to keep herself together and save the child at the same time.
But it was not to be.
The infant let out a weak cough, and then stopped crying for good.
Emma didn’t want to accept it. She continued to hold the child close, in whispers imploring it not die. But it was too late. The spirit had passed. Nolan had seen many things in his adventuresome lifetime. But this might have been the saddest thing of all.
He waited a respectable amount of time, then took the infant from Emma’s arms. He walked back to the mess hall and returned the child to its mother.
Then he went back to Emma. She was collapsed against the wall, tears rolling down her cheeks.
Nolan put his weapon aside and sat down beside her.
“I wanted them all to survive.” She started sniffling. “It was so important that none of them die.”
“All of those people would have died if you hadn’t saved them,” he told her. “You have to think of the others who are still alive. You’re their guardian angel.”
She looked up at him with her huge blue eyes. All her makeup was gone by now, yet Nolan realized she was even more beautiful without it.
“Do you really think that?” she asked him tearfully. “Do they really think of me as their ‘guardian angel?’”
He smiled at her. It had been so long since he’d smiled for any reason, it almost hurt.
“I’m sure of it,” he said.
Suddenly, she was embracing him tightly.
“I’ve been such a fool my whole life,” she said. “And I know I can never make up for it.”
He was frozen on the spot, at a loss for words.
“You’re just a kid,” he finally sputtered. “You’ve got a long way to go.”
This made her laugh. And he began to hug her back.
That’s when the Senegal came into the room—the same one as before. The bearer of bad news. But he didn’t say anything this time.
He didn’t have to.
Nolan just looked at him and asked: “Ils sont à venir?”
The man nodded grimly.
They were coming again.…
* * *
NOLAN RAN UP to the main deck, jammed on his battle helmet and pushed his night-vision telescope into place.
He looked to the east and saw lights that stretched almost horizon to horizon, all of them heading for the Taiwan Song.
Gunner was soon beside him.
“There’s a lot more of them than the last go-around,” he said to Nolan. “They must have gotten some new recruits.”
Nolan nodded. “If they’re here for the reason we think they are, they probably had no problem picking up new blood. There’s hundreds of small pirate bands up and down this coast that would be more than willing to help them out for a fee.”
Nolan zoomed in on the fleet and could see the Bom-Kats’ distinctively shaped boats and billowing deck flags. There were at least three dozen speedboats heading their way, each one carrying at least a half dozen pirates.
“How much time do you think we have before they get in range?” he asked Gunner.
“They’re moving pretty quick,” Gunner replied, adjusting his own night-vision goggles. “I’ll say five minutes. Maybe less.”
Nolan had to think fast, not easy to do with no food or sleep in almo
st three days. He let out a high whistle; this brought the Senegals up on deck with him. The ship’s Korean crewmen were close behind.
The sheer size of the approaching flotilla left no doubt this would be an all-out assault. So, Nolan had to come up with a defensive plan, making sure it was workable but also as simple as possible.
It took a couple minutes, but finally each man knew what he had to do. The situation was so desperate, though, they could not afford to send one of the Senegals back down to protect the people in the mess hall. Everyone who could shoot a weapon or wield a knife would be needed up top.
Gunner divided up the ammunition. Each Senegal got forty rounds for his M4. Nolan was left with twenty-three. They all had huge Beretta handguns as well, with eight-round clips. Basically their last ditch weapon, they would have to make every bullet count with these, too.
Each Senegal then took a carving knife from the box of cutlery the ship’s crew had uncovered. Using wads of duct tape, they attached the knives to their M4s like bayonets. Then Nolan assigned them positions around the ship: one Senegal at the bow, two at the stern, one amidships starboard and one amidships port. He and Gunner would fill the gaps at the railings on either side of the bridge.
Nolan checked the approaching fleet again and then took one of the steak knives himself.
He was sure of only one thing at that moment: Two hundred and twenty-three bullets would not be enough to win this battle.
* * *
NOLAN HURRIED BACK down to the galley.
Emma knew what was happening, just by the look on his face. He got her back to the mess hall and told her to put all the refugees in one corner, turn out the lights and not move until someone came for her.
“These people are depending on you,” he said. “Stay with them, keep them safe.”
He started to go, but she grabbed his hand, stopping him. In the dim light of the passageway just outside the mess hall door, she looked up at him, but didn’t say a word.
If this had been a movie, they would have kissed here. But it didn’t happen. Nolan simply brushed her cheek, catching a tear just as it was rolling off.
Then he told her again: “Don’t move until one of us comes for you.”
He gently nudged her into the mess hall and closed the flimsy panel door. He waited until he heard her lock it from the inside. Then he looked down at the threshold and saw the light go out.
He took the added measure of killing all the lights in the passageways around the mess hall, hoping to discourage any pirates who might actually get aboard the ship, the ultimate nightmare scenario.
Then he ran back up on deck.
* * *
HE FOUND GUNNER at his position, port side next to the bridge. He was checking over his Streetsweeper. Again, the bad news was he had just three explosive projectiles left.
“More than anyone, you’ve got to be smart in how you use those,” Nolan reminded him.
They looked out on the water. The Bom-Kats were only about a mile away and closing fast.
“Roger that,” Gunner agreed grimly.
The four Korean sailors reappeared on deck. They had something rarely seen on a ship: a wheelbarrow. Two of them, in fact.
They explained that while getting the Taiwan Song ready to be broken, they’d used wheelbarrows to dump debris ripped from the walls over the side.
Now the wheelbarrows could be used for another purpose. The sailors had carried the four barrels of hydraulic fluid up to the deck. They’d also put a fifth empty barrel right behind the bridge, along with some mop buckets. They indicated they were ready to do their part.
Nolan took assorted trash from the bridge and threw it into the empty barrel. Then he told the crewmen: “OK, let’s light a fire in here.…”
But the four sailors hesitated. Intentionally lighting a fire aboard a ship was not only dangerous, it was considered the height of bad luck.
“It’s OK then,” Nolan reassured them. “I’ll do it.”
Once the fire started, the sailors put a brace across the barrel from which a pail full of hydraulic fluid could be hung and heated up. The wheelbarrows were placed nearby, ready to transport the hot liquid once it was bubbling.
Inside a minute, the crewmen had one bucket of the fluid already starting to percolate.
“Hot quick,” one sailor said, pointing to the boiling liquid.
“But once we start, you must keep it coming,” Nolan urged them.
The four men understood right away.
“Count on us,” one said firmly. “We stand with you.”
* * *
THE PIRATE FLEET began to split up about a quarter mile off the Taiwan Song’s stern.
Nolan had climbed halfway up the ship’s forward mast by this time. With his night-vision telescope turned up to full power, he counted thirty-eight speedboats in the pirate fleet, along with three larger vessels. These were dhonis, traditional Indian fishing boats. They looked like diminutive Viking ships, about twenty-five feet long, with a large engine and stack at the rear, a small-enclosed bridge at the front and a sail in the middle. Like everything Bom-Kat, they were intricately constructed and had many flags adorning their masts and aft sections.
The divided fleet began moving up on either side of the old freighter, just out of the M4’s range. With this maneuver, the pirates’ strategy was confirmed. This was going to be a mass attack, an assault from all sides.
Nolan yelled to those below to get ready. Then he tried studying the trio of dhonis accompanying the fleet. His instincts told him one must be the pirate commander’s ship. If so, would sinking it affect the coming battle? Possibly … But which of the three was it? Alpha Squad had only so much ammunition, and Nolan didn’t want to waste even a single round shooting at the wrong target.
He yelled down to Gunner, asking if he could guess which dhoni was the command vessel. But he was as much at a loss as Nolan.
“No idea,” he yelled back up to Nolan. “And one in three ain’t good odds at the moment.”
The speedboats began revving their engines. Some started circling the freighter; others began closing on it. The pirates were making their move.
Nolan tightened his battle helmet. His clothes still smelled faintly of Emma’s perfume.
This was all about her, he thought once again.
He was sure of that now.
* * *
THE ATTACK STARTED at exactly 0300 hours.
There was no diversion this time; none was needed. The reinforced Bom-Kat force hit the Taiwan Song from all sides, en masse, even as it puttered along at barely five knots. The pirates had a simple plan, too: brave the gunfire, get on board the ship and overwhelm the vessel’s defenders with sheer numbers.
The pirates began throwing up rope ladders all over the ship; their grappling hooks made a distinctive clang when they hit the deck railings. It sounded like dozens of out-of-tune church bells going off at once.
Standing fast in their positions around the deck, the ship’s defenders watched all this unfold. Of the seven men of Alpha Squad, six had pistols and a combat weapon with a long carving knife attached. Gunner was the exception. His Streetsweeper was not conducive to holding a bayonet, makeshift or otherwise. So in addition to his Beretta and oversized shotgun, he’d armed himself with the largest piece of cutlery on the ship.
The idea was for them to use the knives to cut the rope ladders off the railings before the Bom-Kats could climb up. This way Alpha could still fight off the pirates while saving their precious ammunition until they really needed it.
But Nolan quickly found it would not be as easy as that. Not ten seconds into the attack, a rope ladder clanged onto the railing right in front of his station, which was starboard side, next to the bridge. The hook grabbed on tight and began jerking with the movements of the pirates climbing up.
Like the others, Nolan had used duct tape to attach his carving knife to the end of his M4. Again, by positioning it like a bayonet, he hoped he could both defend himsel
f and slice through the attackers’ rope lines. But in his plan, he’d been expecting the Bom-Kats’ ladders to be made of something like heavy clothesline, as they’d been in the previous attack. This time, though, the ladders were made of substantial hemp twine, at least four inches around and heavily braided. Just one look at it told Nolan there was no way he could quickly slice it in half. Instead, he would have to cut through it with his makeshift bayonet like a saw cutting through wood. But as soon as he started doing this, the duct tape holding the knife to his gun barrel began coming loose.
Meanwhile, the first pirate climbing the rope ladder was just a few feet away from him. Nolan had no choice but to pull out his Beretta and shoot the man between the eyes. He didn’t even stop to watch him fall. Instead, he pulled the carving knife off his M4, threw the rifle aside, and with both hands, began frantically cutting the rope beneath the large grappling hook.
He was still sawing away when a second pirate neared the top of the ladder. Nolan had to shoot him as well. He fell away, only to be replaced by a third pirate who Nolan also had to shoot, all while still trying madly to cut the rope.
By the time a fourth pirate neared the railing, the weight on the weakened twine had become too much and snapped on its own, taking him and several more pirates down with it, much to Nolan’s relief. But he’d used three bullets from his pistol just to defeat this first tiny group of Bom-Kats—and under these conditions that was way too much ammo to expend. Even worse, when he looked at the carving knife, he realized that trying to cut through the thick hemp had bent and dulled the blade considerably. And a moment later, another hook clanged onto the railing in front of him.
This time he attacked the rope with verve, sawing away as he anxiously eyed six more pirates climbing toward him. But the knife just could not do the job fast enough, so Nolan had to use his Beretta once again and shoot the pirate at the top of the ladder, as well as the attacker behind him. Only then did he manage to cut the second rope to the point where it finally snapped on its own, sending the rest of the pirates back into the sea. But no sooner had this rope ladder fallen away, when another hook clanged onto the railing nearby.
