“Okay Eva, thanks, you’re right. Any one of the Don Juan’s in your life could save you from the two hundred sweaty guys outside who want to shower with you next,” he reminded her.
She put a hand to her mouth in surprise. “I forgot about that, sorry,” she admitted. “Goodness sakes Slade, you made me forget all about them. I have to admit, you do make a girl feel safe.” She dropped the towel and posing coquettishly, telling him, “This you cannot afford; but it’ll be worth it if you can save our lives.”
“The visual is more than enough to send me to Confession Eva. Now be a good girl and send your husband in,” he told her.
Eva shrugged on a robe. Before she left she reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “Are you really that nice a guy Slade?”
“Unfortunately — yes,” he smiled. “It’s a curse; a bloody curse.”
Eva ducked into the bedroom. Captain Fletcher entered the bathroom momentarily. Slade didn’t meet him in the shower. Their conversation was much more to the point, much more professional, and Jeremiah didn’t enjoy it nearly as much.
Raised voices stopped their conversation. One voice was Eva’s, but there were other voices, male voices, and one was Colonel Nikahd’s.
Fletcher grabbed a towel and after a glance at Slade, he hurried out into the bedroom. The voices approached the bathroom door. A moment later Nikahd said, “What are you doing captain? Is there something in there you don’t want me to see?”
“No, nothing!” he said.
“Stand aside,” Nikahd replied sternly. Apparently the captain didn’t move fast enough. “Stand aside or I will have your wife raped in front of you.”
The latch turned. Slade had only a single moment to act.
CHAPTER 34: Taking the Plunge
Colonel Nikahd opened the bathroom door. It was dark. He turned on the light. That showed him what the captain had been hiding. Shaking his head, the colonel reached across the small space and picked up the Glock 9mm sitting on the counter next to the sink.
He lifted it, pointing it at Captain Fletcher’s forehead. The huge man dwarfed the wiry Iranian. He didn’t move, and Nikahd asked him, “What were you going to do with this captain; did you really think you could take over the ship with a pistol?”
“No,” Fletcher said soberly. “But when the time comes I can keep my wife from being tortured by you bastards!”
The two Iranians with Nikahd stepped forward in anger, but the colonel shouted at them with surprising fury, “Stand down! I did not give you permission to move!”
They stepped back, smoldering, but not daring to cross the most feared man in the Iranian Army. Nikahd cocked the slide, spitting out the bullets in the pistol until there was only one left. Then he handed the gun back to Fletcher. “There, when the time comes, you will have to decide whether to use that last bullet on me or your lovely wife.” He smiled, adding, “I can understand a man like you, Captain Fletcher.”
Then they left.
Fletcher and Eva rushed into the bathroom. Slade was nowhere to be seen. The captain threw open the shower curtain — nothing. “Where the Hell did he go?”
A black shape dropped from the ceiling above the shower, surprising them both. It was Slade.
“Holy! You scared the crap out of me!” the big man said. He turned to Eva, and said, “He didn’t do that to you did he?”
She blushed and said, “No, and a good thing to!”
Slade exhaled sharply, “Playing Spiderman doesn’t get any easier with age, I’ll tell you!” He took out a couple of clips from his belt and handed them to Fletcher. “Here, you may need more than one; just in case.”
“Don’t you want it back?” he said, taking the clips and inserting a full one into the pistol.
Slade shook his head. “If I need something I’ll get it from the Iranians; they brought enough for all of us.” He went to the port hole and looked out. Turning back to the couple he pointed to the door.
“Lock that. Only open it if Nikahd announces himself. Then be polite. I have to get the crew out now. The lifeboat is the obvious solution. But we have to wait until tonight to go, I’m looking at about 2 am Tehran time; they’re circadian rhythm will be low, and we’re going to need all the advantages we can get. I’ll come and get you, but if I don’t then you two just head to the lifeboat — got it?”
“We can’t go without the crew,” Fletcher told him emphatically.
“Captain Fletcher if I don’t show up then you are going to be all that’s left of the crew. Get off the ship. There’s an LA class attack sub off our starboard side, the Key West. They will see you; they’ll take it from there.” Without another word Slade opened the hatch and slipped out the back.
Fletcher and Eva followed close behind but when they stepped out on the deck Slade was gone.
As the day progressed the coast of Iran fell away to the north and the coast of Oman fell away to the southwest; the Galaxus entered the Arabian Sea. Their course turned to starboard at midafternoon, heading into the open water between the Arabian Peninsula and the subcontinent of India. Slade napped part of the day, staying out of sight and out of mind in the lifeboat. He wasn’t looking to make trouble, at least not until he got the crew safely off the Galaxus.
When evening finally fell he waited patiently until he had complete darkness. Then he crept out of the lifeboat and scouted out his route. The aft hold where the crew was being kept was a catch all for the ship. It was specifically for dry goods, but it wasn’t designed for enormous containers — or people for that matter — but often the ship would store a quantity of spare parts, even spare engines when necessary. It was the primary way for accessing the engine room from the outside. This gave Slade a way in other than the above deck entrance which was guarded.
He worked his way down to the engine room, looking specifically at where the Iranians had their men. It didn’t take long to map out his route and the impediments in his way. After that it was simply a matter of waiting.
At 1:30 am, an hour-and-a-half after the guard changed, at about the point where the guards were starting to get sleepy and complacent through inactivity, Slade crept into the engine room. Three men were on duty there, monitoring the engines, the fuel levels, environmental control systems and the like. Two were at a small table playing cards. A third was making the rounds.
Slade waited until the man turned the corner, putting the loud, hulking, green painted starboard diesel between his fellow terrorists and himself. The terrorist walked by, his eyes on the diesel gauges. He never heard Slade creep up behind him. The black shadow wrapped an iron muscled arm around the terrorist’s throat and plunged his blade in between the ribs, pricking the heart from behind.
The terrorist lost consciousness almost instantly. He was stone dead before Slade dragged him between the engine blocks and secreted his body beneath the catwalk. Disarming the Iranian gave Slade a P90 submachine gun with a red dot sight — a nice little gun — as well as a Glock 9mm.
His silencer fit both the P90 and the Glock. That made the two card players an afterthought. After sighting them from behind and using four bullets on them, Slade hid their bodies and secured the engine room, locking the hatch and chaining it shut.
There were two entrances into the aft hold. One was a large set of double doors. That was intended for bulk equipment. However, there was also a normal hatch. Slade listened with his ear against the steel before cracking the hatch and peering within. The first thing that hit him was the smell. After a few days the stench of sweat, shit and piss was almost unbearable. The Iranians didn’t furnish the crew with access to latrines. There was no reason for it. They were to be slaughtered anyway. The crew had no choice but to pick an area for their latrine and make the best of it.