The four SEALs burst into the room, weapons up, covering the Chinese. The officer’s eyes widened, then he scowled and slowly reached for a pistol at his waist. Murdock shot him in the shoulder and he bellowed in pain but didn’t fall. The three Chinese at the game, stood slowly. None had a weapon within reach.
“Who the hell are you guys?” the crewman asked.
“Navy SEALs,” Murdock said. “Come to get your ass out of the fire. We’ll need your help. Get your captain up here, now. Tell him we’re onboard and taking you out of Hong Kong.”
The SEALs tied the four Chinese hand and foot with riot cuffs and cinched them tight. They bound up the officer’s shoulder wound to stop the bleeding.
The crewman held out his hand.
“Norm Hadilston, from Chicago. I’m the second officer. Glad to see you guys. This is fantastic. I thought we were stuck here for a month or so. How can you break us out of this jail?”
“Not sure, Hadilston. That’s why we want to talk to your captain.” Murdock’s earpiece sounded.
“Cap. Lam. We’re at the engine room, but there are some problems here. We haven’t attacked yet, but there are six Chinese in there and all are awake and armed. No sign of any crew. We’re working on it.”
“Roger that, Lam. Take it slow and quiet. Keep them away from the intercom. We don’t want any loud speaker jazz.”
Hadilston watched the interchange. “I’ll call the captain at once. He isn’t a sound sleeper. Should be here in five minutes.”
“If we get you free of the Chinese onboard, can you move the ship away from the pier and head out the channel without any tugs?”
Hadilston scowled then slowly nodded. “Yes, I’ve seen it done. Not easy but with a little luck we can do it.”
“Good, now we need control. My man said some problem in the engine room.”
“The Chinese are fascinated with our engines. They have some engineers down there, I think, besides the soldiers.”
Several decks below the bridge, Lieutenant (j.g.) DeWitt stared at the door marked “Communications.” No one had entered or left as he and two men watched. There had been no passengers in the companionway.
He and Ostercamp and Mahanani moved up on each side of the door, then DeWitt tried the knob. It turned and he jerked the door open and jumped inside. One sleepy crewman lifted his head out of his hands and stared at them.
“Who the hell are you guys?” he asked.
DeWitt cleared the room with darting glances. There was no one else in the room filled with radio equipment, fax machines, readout screens, and video monitors.
“We’re the guys who are going to get your ass out of a sling,” Ostercamp said. “Any Chicoms usually stand guard in here?”
“Nope, no Chinks at all. Who are you guys?”
“U.S. Navy SEALs,” DeWitt said. “Can you lock the door from the inside and keep everyone out?”
“Sure, but—”
“Good, we’ve got other jobs to do. You should be getting instructions from your Captain shortly. Just hang in here with us. We hope to be moving this ship before daylight.”
All of the SEALs heard the warning in their earpieces.
“Tran at the gangplank. We’ve got trouble. Two army trucks just pulled up with what looks like fifteen men in each one. I’ve got the EAR. Should I use it if they start to board?”
“Yes,” Murdock said at once. “Put them down now, even if they don’t start to board. They’ll find the guards down.”
At the gangplank, Tran “Train” Khai sighted in on the closest army truck. The fifteen men had gathered around it and he fired.
He watched the Chinese soldiers shiver and stare in astonishment, then they fell down like dominoes, one after the other. Some shouts came from the men at the other truck.
“Eight thousand, nine thousand, ten thousand,” Tran counted, then he fired at the second truck. The Chinese there had started to run for the first truck and two of them evidently were outside the effects of the EAR. The rest at the truck went down and out. Tran kept his weapon trained on the two men who stopped and looked back at their own truck. They both ran back and began to look at their unconscious buddies.
“Nine thousand, ten thousand, eleven thousand…” Tran fired again nailing the last two men. He touched his mike. “Last of the thirty men down and out,” he said on the Motorola.
On the bridge, Captain Omar Prestwick hurried through the door. He had on his white uniform shirt and pants, but he hadn’t taken time to tuck in his shirt. He was also barefooted.
“Damn, real live U.S. Navy SEALs?” He held out his hand. “Prestwick here. Wonderfully glad to see you. Can you really get us out of Hong Kong?”
“Going to try, Captain. I’m Lieutenant Commander Murdock. We have control of the communications room. We’re working on the engine room, engineering, and security. What else do we need to control to get the ship under way?”
“Move it, tonight, without tugs?”
“Doubt if we could call up a tug or two without Chinese permission. I understand you can move away from the pier without tugs.”
“Yes, but damn hard. Hell, worth a try. If we can control the ship. You have commo. We need engineering and engine. Takes some time to get us ready to move. Not like kick-staring a Harley.”
He stared at Murdock and the other men’s weapons.
“You have real bullets in those guns, I’d guess. Be careful so you don’t shoot up a batch of my passengers.”
“We’re taking all precautions, Captain.”
Murdock held up his hand as his earpiece spoke.
“Skipper, Fernandez at engineering. We’re inside. We have half of it. There’s another big room two Chicom soldiers ran into and we’re not sure how to get them out.”
“Hold, we’ll send you some help. DeWitt can you move to engineering and assist.”
“That’s a roger, skipper. We’re on our way.”
“Captain, my man says two Chinese are in a second room at engineering. Is that the vital one?”
“Yes, we need both rooms to move the ship. They have to get in there without damaging anything. Let me get our chief engineer down there to help them.” The captain moved to the phone and dialed.
Two decks below at the security office, Hans Kok, checked the security monitors that covered twenty-four main sections of the passenger areas of the big ship. Earlier he had seen what looked like some young men with weapons, but he figured it must be some kind of program the entertainers were working on. But it was late for that.
Then he spotted another one, this time there was no doubt, it was a man with a submachine gun moving cautiously down a hall. What the hell was going on? He was about to call his supervisor when he saw the time: almost 2:00 A.M. The Chinese soldier guard who had been stationed with him snored softly to one side where he sat in a soft chair. His automatic rifle lay across his chest, the butt on the floor.
Kok checked the other monitors. Twice more he saw young men with weapons moving around the ship. They were in civilian clothes, but acted like soldiers. What should he do? Notify the Chinese? Now that would be dumb. Call the captain? At 2:00 A.M. that would be bold. Just wait and see what happened?
He looked up as the door to the room burst open and three men with weapons surged into the room. He looked at the ugly snouts of the three submachine guns pointed at him and slowly raised his hands. He pointed to the Chinese soldier. Without a sound, one of the men eased up to the Chinese and hit him on the head with the side of his machine gun. Then the man grabbed the rifle as the Chinese slumped unconscious.
“Do you speak English?” Jefferson asked.
On the bridge, Murdock heard a message in his earpiece.
“Cap, we’ve got real troubles down here in the engine room. We’re in the first section, but the next section seems to be the important one. The Chicoms must have seen us coming. They have the door locked down and five or six of them have firing positions inside all aimed at the door. You better get down here and see what the fuck we can do.”