Plague Ship

  He grabbed one of the women, a dark-haired beauty he recognized was a waitress from the dining room, and raced back to the helm. He positioned her between him and the stalking freighter as a human shield, in case they had snipers. He noted that the merchantman had narrowed the gap even more.

  “I believe the game is called chicken,” he said to no one in particular, and savagely pushed the rudder control to port.

  At this speed, the ship responded nimbly, and her bow came over. It slammed into the side of the freighter with a titanic scream of tearing metal. The impact heeled the ship to starboard, staggering Kovac, who had braced for it. The bow railing was crushed in, and the two ships grated against each other. A dozen balconies for the most expensive cabins were torn away, while, all over the ship, passengers and crew were thrown to the deck. There were injuries throughout the vessel, though nothing more severe than a few broken bones.

  Kovac turned the ship away from the scene of impact. The freighter turned with him but kept a much wider separation this time, its captain obviously leery of another collision.

  He wasn’t sure what inspired him, but Kovac had a sudden idea to end this quickly. Leaving the helm position, he yanked one of the dead officers from the floor and walked the corpse outside, with one hand on the officer’s belt and the other on the back of his neck so it appeared he was walking on his own. Kovac paused for a second, to make sure the men on the other ship had a chance to see him, before rushing the flying-bridge rail and heaving the body over.

  He ducked behind the rail and couldn’t watch the body fall the hundred feet to the sea, but he was certain his opponents had. Kovac knew they wouldn’t let an innocent man drown, and it would take them at least an hour to rescue him. He liked the irony that they would be forced to give up their pursuit for a dead man.

  “DAMAGE REPORT,” Juan called, as soon as the two ships pulled apart.

  “Crews are on their way,” Max said straightaway.

  When they hadn’t been able to raise the cruise ship on the radio, their plan had been to get the crew’s attention and hail them with loudspeakers. The owner of the Golden Line was most likely complicit in Severance’s plot, but it couldn’t involve all of his officers and crew. If they could get a warning to them about Zelimir Kovac’s real reason for being aboard, they could put an end to this once and for all.

  Cabrillo had fully expected the shipmaster to turn away, as he had, but never anticipated being intentionally rammed. No captain on earth would jeopardize his ship and crew with a stunt like that.

  There was only one logical conclusion. “Kovac’s taken over the Golden Sky.”

  Max eyed him and nodded imperceptively. “Only thing that makes sense. How do you want to play it?”

  “We’ll lay up alongside again and fire over grappling hooks. I don’t know how many men he has, but I think a dozen of us ought to suffice.”

  “I like your Captain Blood style.”

  “Avast, ye matey.”

  “If he tries to turn in to us again, you boys are going to be in a world of hurt.”

  “It’s your job to make certain he doesn’t.” Cabrillo was about to call down to Eddie to prepare a boarding party when Hali suddenly shouted, “Someone was just tossed off the wing bridge!”

  “What?” Max and Juan said in unison.

  “A guy in a dark windbreaker just threw what looked like an officer off the wing bridge!”

  “Helm, full reverse,” Juan snapped on the intercom. “Man overboard. Man overboard. This is not a drill. Rescue team to the boat garage. Prepare to launch the RIB.”

  “He’s playing dirty,” Max said.

  “We can play dirtier. Wepps, aim the gun cameras on the Golden Sky’s bridge ASAP and put them up on the main screen.”

  A moment later, the images flashed on the monitor. Because the cruise ship was so much taller than the Oregon, the best angle came from the camera mounted on the ship’s mast. When the camera was switched to low-light mode, they could clearly see into the bridge. There were women standing at all the portside windows, hostages placed there so a sharpshooter couldn’t get a clean hit. There was a figure crouched at the helm, possibly Kovac, with another woman pressed tightly against him.

  “He’s no dummy, Juan. We can’t risk a shot with him using those folks as human shields.”

  “Chairman, it’s Mike. Doors are open and we are ready to launch.”

  Juan looked to see their speed through the water, waited a moment for them to slow to the maximum safe speed, and ordered Trono and his rescue team to go.

  The Rigid Inflatable Boat flew down the Teflon-coated ramp and hit the seas hard. Mike turned the RIB immediately to port to ease the transition into the swiftly passing water.

  “We’re clear.”

  Using thermal-detection gear, they should have no problem spotting the officer. Mike Trono had been a pararescue jumper before joining the Corporation, and was cross-trained as a medic. There was no need for the Oregon to stand by.

  “Helm, bring us to ninety percent of our former speed. If he turns, match him, and if he slows don’t close the gap. I want him to think we can’t catch up.” Max shot Juan a questioning look. “We need a little time to get a boarding party organized, and I don’t want him pressured into thinking he should keep throwing people overboard.”

  Cabrillo was changing in his cabin when he got word from Hali that Mike had found the officer and reported he’d been shot twice in the chest. Juan calmly gave his orders that the RIB should remain deployed in case Kovac tossed someone alive off the bridge. Inside, his emotions distilled down to a burning fury. He didn’t care that they had wasted minutes searching for a corpse. With the Oregon’s massive speed advantage, there was no way they would ever lose the Golden Sky.

  The anger was directed at himself. An innocent man was dead because he came charging in like a bull in a china shop. There could have been another way to capture Kovac and rescue his people. He should have come up with a better plan.

  His phone rang and he snatched it up, barking, “Cabrillo.”

  “Knock it off right now,” Dr. Huxley said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I just heard about what happened and I know you’re blaming yourself for it and I want you to stop this instant. As soon as the news broke that Eos had been destroyed, Kovac went into trapped-rat mode. He’s cornered and panicked. That’s why that officer was killed, not because of us. You and I have been over this a hundred times before. You aren’t at fault, so don’t take blame that isn’t yours. All right?”

  Juan blew out a breath. “And here I am working myself into a world-record bout of recrimination and self-loathing.”

  “I knew you were. That’s why I called.”

  “Thanks, Hux.”

  “Go take him down before he kills anyone else, and you’ll feel much better.”

  “Doctor’s orders?”

  “Exactly.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Juan was on deck with his team. He divided them into two groups of six, with Eddie leading the first and him in charge of the second. In order to maintain control of the cruise ship, Kovac would need people on the bridge as well as in the engine room, to stop crewmen from killing power. That would be Eddie’s responsibility. Juan wanted Kovac all to himself.

  They all wore black formfitting outfits over Kevlar body armor that wouldn’t snag on obstacles and impede their assault. Their boots had soft rubber soles, and each man carried a gas mask, because all sported tear gas grenades. The interior of the Golden Sky would be brightly lit, so only one man on each team carried night vision gear.

  With the number of civilians aboard the ship, Cabrillo ordered half loads for their ammunition to avoid overpenetration killing someone beyond their target. He carried a Glock instead of his usual FNs, since even a half charge of powder would send the smaller bullets through a man.

  Their grappling hooks were launched by a shotgun-type weapon. The lines they trailed were incredibly strong
and light, which made climbing difficult. For that, each wore special gloves with mechanical pincers to grip the monofilament.

  “Max, you read?” Juan said into his throat mike.

  “You’re live.”

  “Okay, take us in flank speed, and don’t forget to tell Mike.”

  The acceleration was almost instantaneous. Juan slit his eyes against the brutal wind. The Golden Sky lay four miles ahead, her gleaming upperworks making her look like a jewel on the dark waters, while her wake glowed with an ethereal trail of phosphorescence.

  The Oregon was moving some twenty-odd knots faster than the cruise ship, so they quickly cut the distance.

  “Kovac must be going nuts,” Eddie remarked. “We keep showing up like the proverbial bad penny.”

  “Chairman, he tossed another,” Hali shouted over the radio. “It was a woman this time, and she was definitely alive.”

  “Alert Mike. Wepps, give ’em a squirt with the Gatling as close to the wing bridge as you can. Let Kovac know the next time he sets foot out there, we’re going to shred him.”

  The armored plate covering the starboard-side Gatling gun folded back and the weapon peeked from its redoubt, as the motor spun up its six rotating barrels. When it fired, the sound was like a mechanical buzz saw tearing itself to pieces. A tongue of flame shot twenty feet from the Oregon’s flank and a stream of two hundred depleted uranium rounds arced across the sky. They passed so close to the flying bridge that paint blistered off the metal railing. The bullets peppered the sea ahead of the ship in a multitude of tiny eruptions.

  The Golden Sky immediately turned away from the attack.

  “That rattled his cage.” Eddie was grinning.

  Max kept the Oregon a hundred feet off the other ship as they came abeam and when Kovac tried to turn into them again Max kept just out of reach, using the bow thrusters to keep the Oregon turning tighter than the Golden Sky.

  “Max, get ready,” Juan said, “Wepps, prepare to fire again on my mark, but don’t hit the ship.” He waited for his men to get in position on the Oregon’s rail, their grappling-hook guns at their shoulders. “Aim for the main deck. Max, go!”

  The Oregon carved in on the liner, cutting the gap in half in just a few seconds.

  “Fire,” Juan said, and the Gatling shrieked again, as he and the assault team launched their grappling hooks.

  All twelve hooks sailed across the gap, and when they heaved back on the lines all had caught firmly. The Oregon came in even tighter, almost brushing the cruise ship, so the men wouldn’t injure themselves when they arced across, while the Gatling continued to spit a continuous stream of fire across the Sky’s bridge.

  “Go.”

  Juan gripped the line tightly and leapt over the railing, swinging across the gap at an ever-accelerating pace. The Oregon cut away sharply behind him. He had intentionally aimed above a large row of windows and had judged the distance perfectly. His feet hit the glass, and he exploded into the deserted dining room, saving himself the tedious task of climbing up the line. His team knew to hook up outside the bridge if they got separated.

  He unslung the MP-5 from across his back. Moving cautiously, the weapon tucked high on his shoulder so he had a constant sight picture, he weaved through the tables toward the exit.

  He came out on the mezzanine level of the atrium. Passengers were milling around, still dazed after the impact with the Oregon. A man was lying at the bottom of a flight of stairs being attended to by a pair of women. An elderly lady screamed when she spotted him.

  Juan raised the submachine gun’s barrel in a nonthreatening manner. “Ladies and gentlemen, this ship has been hijacked,” he said. “I am part of a United Nations hostage-rescue team. Return to your cabins immediately. Tell passengers you see that they must stay in their cabins until we have secured this ship.”

  A man in civilian attire with the aura of authority approached him. “I’m Greg Turner, second assistant engineer. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Tell me the fastest way to the bridge, and see that these people get to their rooms.”

  “How bad is it?” Turner asked.

  “Have you ever heard of a good hijacking?”

  “Sorry. Dumb question.”

  “Don’t sweat it.”

  Turner gave Juan the directions, as well as a magnetic pass card to get him into the off-limits spaces, and Cabrillo took off at a trot. When he reached the door marked NO ADMITTANCE, he swiped the card through the reader and propped the door open with a nearby potted fern for the rest of his team. By his estimates, they should be only a minute behind him.

  He jogged past countless cabins and raced up two flights of stairs before emerging in the hallway that gave access to the bridge. He activated his laser sight as he slowly approached the door. Cabrillo paused when he heard voices muttering in a cabin a few doors back from the bridge entrance.

  “Captain?” he called softly.

  The voices stopped, and someone peered around the doorjamb. The single eye he saw widened in horror at his appearance.

  “It’s okay,” Juan said softly. “I’m here to stop him. Can I speak to your captain?”

  The person came fully around the corner. She was wearing a uniform, and, judging by the stripes on her shoulder boards, she was the Golden Sky’s first officer. She had jaw-length dark hair and perfectly tanned skin that set off her honey brown eyes. “That butcher killed the captain and our third purser. I am Leah Voorhees, first officer.”

  “Let’s talk in there,” Juan said, pointing to the cabin behind her.

  He followed her inside. There were two man-size lumps on the bed with a sheet pulled over them both. Dark blood stained the chest of one and the head of the other.

  Leah Voorhees tried to introduce him to the rest of the officers, but Juan cut her off. “Later. Tell me what you know about what’s happening on the bridge.”

  “There are two of them,” she said at once. “One named Kovac, the other I’m not sure. There is a third barricaded in the engine room.”

  “You’re sure there’s just one down there?” When she nodded, Juan radioed this piece of information to Eddie. “Go on.”

  “They came aboard by chopper not long after we left Istanbul. We were given orders from our head office to do whatever Kovac asked of us. They were supposedly looking for two stowaways who might have murdered a passenger.”

  “Those stowaways are part of my team,” Juan assured her. “They didn’t murder anyone. Do you know where they are?”

  Given the circumstances, she accepted Juan’s statement without question. “They were found a short while ago and are locked in the captain’s day office directly behind the bridge.”

  “Okay. What else?”

  “There were two ordinary seamen on duty, as well as two officers, when he took over. They also have female passengers as hostages. Who are you? Where did you come from?”

  “This is a United Nations mission. We have been shadowing this terrorist cell for some time. Kovac shook us when he boarded your ship, so we had to act fast. I am sorry that you couldn’t be informed, and I am sorry for the danger you’ve been put in. It was our intention to grab Kovac earlier, but, well, the UN’s a bureaucracy like any other.”

  The rest of Juan’s squad suddenly appeared, throwing dots of laser light around the room as they checked it.

  “It’s okay, boys,” Juan called, and the weapons were lowered. While he filled them in on what he knew, he asked Leah to draw a diagram of the bridge, and called Max. “Give me a sit-rep.”

  “Mike fished the woman from the drink. She’s fine, if a little hysterical. Kovac is still at the helm, surrounded by three of his hostages. We’ve spotted a second gunman, but he isn’t in view right now. The three other women are still pressed to the windows.”

  “Pull ahead of the Sky and get directly in front of her so you have a clear view of everything going on. Mark and Linda are being held in an office behind the bridge. See if you can spot them.??
?

  “Aye, aye.”

  Eddie called in to say they were in position and that they would have to blast through the door to gain access to the engine room. Juan told him to wait so they could synchronize their attack.

  Max radioed back, “I see a door on the back wall of the bridge, it’s closed right now, but I bet that’s the place. Kovac has shifted his three human shields to the main bridge windows. His chief goon is down a small corridor on the starboard side, standing at what I believe is the main entrance.”

  Cabrillo penned in the positions of everyone on the bridge on the diagram the first officer had drawn so his team knew what to expect. To date, they had never caused what was euphemistically called collateral damage, a record Cabrillo was immensely proud of and one he had vowed to keep.

  In the wake of 9/11, not only had cockpit doors on aircraft been beefed up but a great many cruise ships had also installed reinforced doors to protect the bridge. Juan placed the plastic explosives on it himself and retreated back into the cabin. He called Eddie and Max to tell them it was a go in thirty seconds.

  He kept his eyes glued to his watch and held up his splayed fingers when five seconds remained. He dropped a finger at every tick of the clock and pressed the button on the remote with his other hand.

  The blast filled the hallway with reeking white smoke and was a brutal assault on their senses. Cabrillo was in motion less than a second after the shock wave rolled past the cabin door. The beam of his laser cut a ruby line through the coiling haze.

  He raced onto the bridge with his men at his back, rushing past the red-hot remains of the door and ignoring the pile of gore that had once been Laird Bergman.

  “Down! Everybody, down!” the men repeated as they swept the room with their weapons.

  Kovac had reacted faster than Juan thought possible. As he pegged the Serb with his laser, Kovac had already pulled one of the women in front of him and pressed his pistol to her ear.

  “Another step and she dies,” he roared.

  Juan was staggered to see that his hostage wasn’t a stranger. Kovac must have known she was part of their team, because he had taken Linda Ross from the captain’s day office and was using her as his shield.