“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.