"Cougar One," he whispered. "Target right."
"Two. Target left."
"Take 'em!"
It was tricky taking a shot while trying to control a parachute just thirty feet from touchdown, especially with some turbulence kicking up as he flew through the cruise ship's slipstream. He had to release the parachute control toggles while in a sustained near-stall, raise his weapon, aim, and fire, all before he stalled completely and lost control. The IR laser made aiming simpler; as the red dot slipped swiftly up the tango's body, from left hip to right shoulder, Walters began squeezing off shots, the H&K's integral sound suppressor muffling each shot to a loud, hissing snap.
The terrorist jerked backward, chin going up, hands clawing at his chest as he slammed into the glass at his back. Walters managed five shots before he dropped his weapon and grabbed the control toggles again, allowing himself to pick up airspeed once more and glide toward the open deck. To his left, Dave Yancey seemed to hover motionless in mid-air for a second or two as he continued pumping near-silent rounds into his target, then dropped his weapon as well and continued his glide in for a landing.
The deck came up to meet Walters' booted feet. He misjudged his speed, though, which was a little high. He touched down running, dragging down the toggles and collapsing the ram-air chute behind him, then slammed full body into the glass doors leading into the brightly lit casino.
Jerry Esterhausen jumped at the slam of something heavy hitting the door leading out to the Atlas Pool. Howorth stood and turned, trying to see, but it was dark outside and the lighting, though low, had wrecked her night vision. She thought she saw movement out there, however, a shadow in the blackness.
And she saw the two outside guards as well, crumpled on the deck.
The hijacker guard who'd remained inside the casino had been sitting at a chair up against the aft-starboard bulkhead. He'd started at the thump as well, and was moving toward the door to investigate.
He was five feet from Rosie, Esterhausen's card-playing robot.
"Jerry!" Howorth hissed. "We need a distraction! Fast!"
"Huh?"
"Your robot!…"
Jerry typed a command into his computer, then dragged his fingertip across the touchpad. Rosie, who'd been sitting lifelessly in her kiosk, awoke suddenly, her metal arms snapping up and out, her torso spinning to face the hijacker.
Behind Walters, David Yancey stepped onto the deck alongside the swimming pool at a gentle walk, his forward velocity perfectly matched to the speed of the ship.
"Army klutz," Yancey said. David Yancey was a former U. S. Navy SEAL.
"Fuck you, squid!"
Walters struggled to unhook the harnesses holding the parachute to his body As he looked up, however, he saw movement… and the flash of a weapon. Their last briefing had mentioned a tango inside the casino.
And suddenly a man screamed, and Walters heard the sharp clatter of a weapon firing full auto.
Chapter 25
The terrorist had turned at the noise, looking up to see Jerry Esterhausen's robot leaning toward him, arms outstretched.
The man panicked. He screamed and the AK in his hand went off; he was holding the weapon one-handed, and the muzzle climbed sharply with the recoil, out of control. People in the club screamed, some diving for the floor as stray rounds slammed into bulkheads and the ceiling. Bullets cracked and whined, some shattering the plastic woman-shaped torso shell of the robot, some ricocheting from tooled steel. The monitor at the top of the unit exploded in flying glass.
But as Jerry Esterhausen had pointed out on another occasion, the robot's computer brain was located in the machine's base. From across the room the engineer pressed a key and swiped his finger across the touchpad once again, and the machine's arms snapped closed like a trap, moving with mind-numbing speed, gathering in the terrified hijacker and his weapon and smashing him close against its torso in a metal embrace.
An instant later, the glass door behind him slid open and a nightmare shape entered — all in black, the form turned monstrous by heavy clothing, combat vest, helmet, and mask. The man advanced with a submachine gun tucked up tight against his shoulder, moving as though weapon and man were one and the same.
The terrorist gave a strangled scream, struggling against the relentless, backbreaking steel hug. The black-clad apparition pivoted slightly at the sound and fired, putting two rounds into the terrorist's head, the shots no louder than a sharp click. Spent brass tinkled and danced along the casino floor in the deathly silence that had followed the parachutist's entrance.
Please, sir! You're making me blush!"
With that, a number of civilians started to rise. Someone cheered, the cheer joined by another, and then another.
"Quiet!" Carolyn Howorth startled herself with the strength of her bellow. Her voice cut through the rising crowd noise and brought the mob to a halt. "Everyone quiet!
"Everyone stay down!" the black apparition by the door shouted. He kept the submachine gun up against his shoulder, pivoting this way and that, giving the appearance of being a machine himself, one seeking its next target. "Everyone stay down, stay calm, and we'll get you out of this!"
A second man in helmet, mask, and combat gear entered the open door and the two separated, putting their backs against the bulkheads to either side of the rear wall.
"Don't shoot," Howorth called. "You got them all in here!"
"Atlas Pool deck clear!" one of the figures said. "Casino clear! Three tangos down!"
And another black figure touched down on the deck outside, moving too fast. He took three running steps as he tried to come to a halt and fell into one of the two hot tubs set to either side of the swimming pool.
"In Allah's name, what is happening?" Khalid demanded. He held the radio against His ear. "Tahir! Report!" He shook the radio in frustration, then put it to his ear again. "El Hakim! Come in! This is Khalid. Talk to me!"
There was nothing, no response but static.
He changed channels. "Aziz! Are you there?"
"Yes, Amir!"
Khalid felt, first, relief at hearing the voice, followed almost at once by a deadly and cold sense of purpose. A radio failure by itself he would accept as accident — a dead battery, perhaps — but to have all three of the men guarding the stern deck area of the ship go silent at the same time that the security cameras and the shipboard monitor system switched off could not be coincidence.
"We have lost touch with the guards at the back of the ship," he said. "We may have unwanted visitors aboard. Where are you?"
"Grand Staircase, going up," Aziz replied. He sounded out of breath. "Deck Five!"
"Get to the casino as quickly as you can. Watch out for an ambush!"
"Yes, Amir!"
"Keep me informed! Out!"
Khalid thought for a moment more, studying the four men seated at the Security Office consoles. Beyond, the door into the IT center was open, and he could see two more men there… Hamud Haqqani and Ghailiani. Slipping the radio into its belt holster, Khalid strode into the IT center.
"What has happened to the security systems?" he demanded.
"Amir, we don't know," Haqqani said. "The main computer may have gone offline for a moment."
"Would that turn off the security cameras?"