“Yes, but this is insane.”
Scott stuffed his Sig Sauer into the crevice of a passenger seat. “I’m going to need your weapon.”
She handed him her Glock and banked toward the motor-yacht.
“Do you have another clip?” he asked.
“No,” Jackie said as she slowed to match the speed of Sweet Life. “I hadn’t planned to start a war today.”
Traveling at the same speed as the motoryacht, Jackie flew the LongRanger directly over the bridge and then began a rapid descent. As she slowed the rate of descent, Ramazani stepped out and looked up, fired a quick burst from the AK-47, then ducked back into the pilothouse.
The yacht suddenly heeled over in a tight port turn, forcing Jackie to make large corrections to stay in place. Thirty degrees into the turn, the ship rolled out on its original course.
“I’m going for it,” Scott shouted as he stepped out on the helicopter’s right landing skid and braced himself. When Ramazani appeared again, Scott fired two rounds through the roof of the wheelhouse. The terrorist darted inside and retaliated by firing a long burst straight up through the roof. Scott heard rounds puncturing the belly of the helicopter.
“Take it up,” he yelled. “Get outta here!”
“What do you think I’m doing?” Jackie shouted as she pulled every ounce of power she could from the straining engine.
As they climbed away, Scott stepped forward to the cockpit. “If you’ll make an approach straight at the stern, I think I can keep him pinned down until I can jump on the transom.”
“Scott,” she said in an even, calm voice. “That’s over-the-top. What are you going to do if you get aboard?”
“I’ll figure that out after I get there,” he said with a slow smile.
She frowned, then checked the engine instruments. “This is not a good idea, believe me.”
“If you have a better idea, I’m willing to listen.”
Without uttering another word, Jackie flew a wide arc to approach the yacht from the rear.
While the captain of Sweet Life wiped blood from his face and neck, Ramazani looked around the shattered pilothouse. There were holes in the overhead and glass and debris scattered everywhere. He turned to the first mate. “Get below and secure the hatch to the engine room!”
Without saying a word, the hollow-eyed man ran to the companionway leading to the main deck.
Ramazani checked the time and distance to the impact point with the supercarrier. Eight minutes and twenty seconds. If I could just knock that helicopter out of the air.
Jackie flew low and fast as she approached the yacht. Scott kept the Glock trained on the aft opening to the wheelhouse. When Ramazani suddenly appeared, Scott fired four rounds as the terrorist fired a short burst at the helicopter and ducked inside.
“Keep it coming,” Scott said as he stepped out on the landing skid. “We’re almost there.”
Nearing the transom, Jackie rapidly slowed the LongRanger while Scott kept firing rounds through the opening to the bridge. At the last second he leaped off the skid and landed on the sundeck, then slid off the aft end of the deck and fell on the transom.
Seeing Ramazani reappear, Jackie quickly banked the helicopter to make a 180-degree turn as a round ricocheted off the copilot’s door. A second later two more rounds penetrated the engine compartment. Completing the turn, she cringed when another round ripped through the cabin.
Scott entered the main salon and came face-to-face with a man brandishing a rifle. Both men fired at the same instant and the Iranian slumped backward and fell over an L-shaped lounge. He was dead before he hit the carpet.
With a rivulet of blood running down the outside of his thigh, Scott raced forward through the mahogany-paneled dining room. He was about to climb the ladder leading to the pilothouse when a fusillade of rounds ripped into the bulkhead next to him. Scott dashed into an elegant king-size master stateroom and froze when he saw an open crate of AK-47s.
He grabbed one of the rifles and stuck the Glock down the small of his back, then opened the double doors leading to a teakwood trimmed sitting room. Scott stopped and stared when he recognized the Russian nuclear symbol on the large steel container. They do have a nuke.
“Give it up,” Ramazani ordered from the master stateroom. “Your friend crashed the helicopter and you’re trapped.”
He’s lying, Dalton told himself as his heart stuck in his throat. He could feel his pulse pounding. I hope he’s lying.
“There is no way out,” Ramazani declared with confidence in his voice. “It’s time for you to make peace with your God.”
Scott spied a carpet-covered hatch.
“You and this boat,” Ramazani said contemptuously, “are going to be vaporized in six minutes.”
With no other way out of the sitting room, Scott fired a few rounds into the stateroom and opened the hatch. He dropped into a narrow, softly lighted passageway leading to the engine room. If I can disable the engines, the detonation isn’t going to obliterate Jacksonville.
When he reached the T in the passageway under the main deck, he stopped and silently cursed. The hatch leading to the engine room was chained shut with two interlocking chains and three heavy-duty padlocks. This son of a bitch is clever.
A second later Ramazani sprayed the access space with rifle fire. “Drop your rifle and come out.”
“I don’t think so,” Scott said as he held the AK-47 out in the main passageway and fired a burst in return.
“Don’t be a fool,” Ramazani cautioned. “If you toss down your weapon, you can swim for your life.”
“I don’t trust cowards,” Scott said sarcastically as he frantically looked around. He saw two things that gave him hope — a hatch directly above his head and a bronze underwater through-hull fitting. Moving swiftly, he checked to see if the small overhead hatch would open. He shoved it up a couple of inches and discovered an aft stateroom.
“You are trying my patience,” Ramazani said in a threatening voice. “You cannot escape from here, unless I allow you to leave. Surely you would like to leave before the ship explodes, wouldn’t you?”
“Massoud, that’s a stupid question,” Scott said as he squeezed off another few rounds down the passageway, then opened the full-flow seacock. Seawater gushed into the yacht as he used the butt of the assault rifle to break the handle off the seacock. I hope we’re taking on water faster than the bilge pumps can pump it overboard.
Scott turned and shoved the rifle up through the hatch, then scrambled into the stateroom. He cautiously opened the door and spotted a deckhand carrying an AK-47.
“Take a hike,” Scott growled as the startled man dropped his weapon and ran toward the aft deck. Dalton fired a few parting shots as the terrorist jumped over the transom and disappeared in the churning wake.
Without warning, Ramazani stepped out of the master stateroom. Scott pulled the trigger and nothing happened.
49
Jackie watched a man jump into the yacht’s wake, then bob up and flail the surface of the water as he disappeared under the belly of the helicopter. Unsure if it was Scott, she made a tight, spiraling descent and buzzed the man. Stricken with panic, the deckhand was churning the water in a desperate attempt to keep from drowning.
Jackie pulled up and glanced at the aircraft carrier in Mayport Basin. Hurry, Scott. Take control of the yacht. She gazed at the channel leading to Kennedy. If the yacht maintained her present course and speed, she would enter the channel near the shoreline in approximately five minutes.