Carlo jumped and whirled around. Behind him, Josias could see the shorter woman’s blouse was torn, exposing her bikini top underneath. Carlo didn’t bother replying. He followed Josias back out and up the short set of steps. From there, they ran back out into the darkness to find a giant Oceanhawk helicopter circling the boat.
“Shit!” cried Carlo. He turned and followed the helicopter as it circled less than a hundred yards away around the port side of the boat, then the stern. “Is it the Coast Guard?”
Junior shook his head. “I think it’s their Navy.”
“Throw me a light,” Carlo barked.
Junior rushed to a nearby storage compartment and lifted the old lid. He withdrew a giant flashlight and swung his arm out, throwing it across.
Carlo snatched the light out of the air and turned it on, still watching the chopper as it began another slow circle around the boat. The light was bright enough to partially illuminate the aircraft and revealed the giant side door that was open. Sitting on the inside, someone was leaning out with half of his face behind the night vision scope of an M40A5 sniper rifle.
They remained frozen, continuing to follow the helicopter as it slowly circled a third time, then a fourth. When it completed the fifth circle, the Oceanhawk slowed and stopped near the stern, hovering in place. Steve Caesare, holding the M40A5 rifle tight against his shoulder, never wavered.
The three men gripped their AK-47s tightly. Carlo glanced around the Prowler’s cockpit. It was a mess. There was no chance of lying their way out of this. He let his finger find the trigger guard on the gun, then snake its way around the trigger. “Don’t do anything!” Carlo yelled over the thundering blades. “Wait and see what they do.”
No one moved for a long time. They waited, continuing to watch the helicopter that was still hovering.
Finally, Josias twisted his mouth toward Carlo. “What are they doing?”
“I don’t know.” Carlo continued staring. The U.S. military was ruthless. They would not be fooled no matter how fast he talked. To them, attacking an American boat was basically an act of war. There was no chance of getting off the boat easily with a Navy helicopter and sniper overhead. They would have to make their own exit. “How many do you see?” he asked loudly.
“Just one,” Josias replied.
“Junior?”
Junior looked carefully into the flashlight’s beam, still shining against the helicopter. “I see only one.”
Carlo’s eye narrowed. He was no scholar, but he could count. The sniper might be a good shot, but if the three of them opened fire at the same time, two of them might get away. Especially if they could make it to the launcher on their boat. “Junior,” he said, looking sideways. “Start the engine.”
Junior began to move but quickly froze again. Carlo growled at him for not following orders but suddenly saw the look on Junior’s face. With eyes wide, he was staring across the boat and over Carlo’s right shoulder.
Josias turned and gasped as well, forcing Carlo to slowly turn around. A man was standing on the white fiberglass roof of the Prowler’s salon. He was dressed in black fatigues, which were soaked and dripping with water. Carlo stared briefly at the man’s bare feet and quickly followed them up his legs to the barrel of an M4 assault rifle. There was no doubt where it was pointed. It was aimed directly at Carlo’s head.
John Clay spoke from behind the sights. “Don’t… move.”
They didn’t. They remained very still, moving only with the gentle rocking of the boat. Carlo could clearly see Clay’s finger on the M4’s trigger.
From the roof, Clay glanced down into the cockpit. “Where are the women?”
“Down below.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
Clay looked directly at Carlo. “Tell your men to throw their guns in the water.”
Carlo repeated the command, and both Josias and Junior threw their AKs over the stern into the dark rolling waves.
“Now you do the same.”
Carlo complied, reluctantly.
Clay kept his right finger on the trigger and reached up to his ear with his left hand. He pressed the small ear bud in firmly. “You there, Steve?”
“Affirmative.”
“Light ‘em up.”
A moment later, a bright red dot from Caesare’s scope appeared on Carlo’s back.
Clay turned to Carlo and his men. “Face down on the deck. Hands flat on the back of your head. Right now.”
All three simultaneously dropped onto their stomachs and reached back behind their heads, as instructed.
The red dot from Caesare’s rifle followed Carlo down, where it continued dancing within a small circle on his back.
Clay stepped back and raised his weapon. He spoke to Caesare, loudly enough for the others to hear. “They’re yours. If one of them so much as raises his head, take it off.”
“Nothing would make me happier.”
With that, Clay instantly turned and ducked inside.
He quickly scanned the salon and ran down the starboard stairs, searching both cabins. Nothing. He ran back up, across the salon, and down into the port hull. There he saw both women bound on the bed, struggling to get the gags out of their mouths.
Clay rushed into the cabin and grabbed Alison, checking her for injuries. Seeing none, he eased the gag out and turned to Kelly. She had a small laceration on her cheek, but otherwise looked unharmed.
“John!” Alison sputtered, clearing her mouth.
“You okay, honey?”
“What are you doing here?”
“We weren’t that far away.” Removing the gag from Kelly’s jaws, he then gently rolled her over and withdrew a large knife from behind his back. It sliced through the duct tape effortlessly. “Are you hurt, Kelly?”
She felt her cut. “It could be a lot worse.”
Clay turned to free Alison. After returning the knife to its sleeve, he grabbed her and pulled her in close. She wrapped her arms tightly around him.
“Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes.”
Clay smiled and pushed Alison back just enough to kiss her.
After a long moment, Alison leaned back with warm, watery eyes. “I think you forgot your shining armor.”
Clay smiled at her attempt at humor, before standing back up. “Too heavy. I left it on the chopper.” He pulled both women to their feet. “I need to check on Chris and Lee.”
As he reached out and pushed the door back, Caesare’s voice broke in over his headset. “Clay, we’ve got an urgent call from Langford.”
“Take a message.”
Back up top, Clay found Chris just regaining consciousness. Clay double-checked his pulse and removed the tape from his hands. He then gently bent one of Chris’ knees and rolled him onto his side. He retrieved a cushion from a nearby seat, sliding it under his head.
Lee’s face, like Chris’, was covered in cuts that were beginning to bruise. Clay freed his hands and helped him up into a sitting position. He lightly patted down his legs, looking for anything else. “Anything hurt?”
Lee shook his head. “Not below my head.” He forced a smile through his cut lips. “I’m very glad to see you, Mr. Clay.”
Clay smiled and rose up. He clapped Lee gently on the shoulder. “So am I, Lee.”
He found the tape inside the cabin and knelt back down, jamming the ball of his knee painfully into Carlo’s back. Pulling the man’s arms down behind him, Clay wrapped them together tightly at the wrist. He then moved to the other two.
When Clay finally stood back up, Caesare’s red dot disappeared. A few minutes later, the helicopter drifted over the boat, allowing Caesare to rappel down. He unclipped and stepped over Chris with Kelly kneeling at his side.
Caesare crossed the cockpit and stopped next to Carlo. With one of his boots, he dug into Carlo’s gut and forced him over onto his back. Caesare squatted down next to the Haitian and looked into his dark eyes. There was no trace of remorse.