“I can see what you mean,” Hunter told Yaz as they and all of the sailors on the boat — O’Brien included — stood in awe of the gigantic vision. “It’s a very powerful image. Just enough to throw a lot of people over the edge, I would think.”
“Getting a radio message,” a sailor watching over the tug’s communications set reported.
Immediately Hunter, O’Brien, and Yaz were inside the tug’s bridge.
“What language is it in?” Hunter asked.
The sailor adjusted his headphones. “If I had to guess, I’d say Arabic,” he said.
“Strange,” Hunter said. “I didn’t expect they’d be broadcasting in Arabic. Unless … ”
“Unless what?” Yaz asked.
“Can you try another frequency?” Hunter asked the radio operator.
The sparky twisted a few dials, then said, “Yes, here’s another broadcast coming through. Same source, but in a different language.”
He kept trying other frequencies and picking up other languages.
“They’re all over the band!” he said, excitedly.
“Let’s hope there’s one in English,” Hunter said.
No sooner were the words out of his mouth when the radio operator cried out, “Bingo! We got English!”
He flipped a switch and put the broadcast on the tug’s tiny speaker. The person talking — a strange, whining, chilling voice — was in the middle of his message.
“—the dawn of Briareus. You cannot resist this inevitable power. The age of Lucifer is here. Briareus, he of one hundred arms, is here. Here to do Lucifer’s bidding. Do not resist—”
“I can’t believe someone would fall for something so hokey,” Yaz said.
“I know,” Hunter said, marking down yet another instance that seemed right out of a bad horror movie. “But he’s touching a nerve somewhere.”
They listened to the message repeat several more times before O’Brien asked, “He doesn’t even give them a chance to reply.”
“That’s all part of the plan,” Hunter said. “They have no recourse. Either surrender or go down fighting.”
“Well, let’s see if we can influence that decision,” Hunter said, bounding out of the cabin and onto the deck.
He took a quick position check. The oil platforms were now about three miles to the south, the first elements of the Briareus ships were one and a half miles to the north.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s prepare the first missile. Sparky, put the call into the frigate helicopter crew. Tell to wait ten minutes, then take off.”
Everyone pitched in to load the Harpoon missile onto the makeshift launcher. “This is a heavy bastard, isn’t it?” Hunter said. They all struggled somewhat until the rocket was finally in place. Then the launch crew started wiring the missile in place, followed by an orgy of button-pushing.
“Ready to fire,” one of the sailors finally said.
“Roger,” Hunter said. “Now, the first target … ”
He was peering through powerful electronic binoculars. The spyglasses had a fairly elaborate nightscope capability, just enough for Hunter to pick out the biggest ship in the lead section of the Briareus fleet.
“That one looks like a good-sized missile cruiser,” he said, handing the binocs to the launch sailor. “Can you get it?”
“At this range, it should be no problem,” the man answered.
Hunter double-checked through the scope, then said: “Okay. It’s your show. Fire when ready.”
All those not involved in the launch retreated to the cabin. Suddenly, there was a burst of flame on the deck and the Harpoon flew off its launcher.
Hunter watched it climb, level off, and head straight for the missile-launching cruiser. “When that baby hits,” Hunter said, “everyone from the fleet captain to the cook will be convinced the Turks launched it.”
Ten seconds later, the missile impacted right into the cruiser’s bridge, causing an explosion that lifted the beam of the ship right out of the water.
“Jee-suz,” Hunter exclaimed as a ball of fire rose from the ship. “You Navy guys know how to pack a missile.”
Immediately after the explosion, they heard a cacophony of klaxons and warning bells coming from the enemy fleet.
“That’s one,” Hunter said. “Now let’s get two off.”
Once again they struggled to put the Harpoon in place, while O’Brien coaxed the engine to chug one more time, just enough to turn the tug around.
Less than forty-five seconds later, the second Harpoon was launched, this time right at the Turkish oil platforms. Hunter followed this missile’s flight with the binoculars. The Harpoon skimmed along the ocean surface as advertised, rising up when needed. Suddenly, its warhead homing device locked onto to a target and it veered to the left.
“It might have found some kind of radar set,” Hunter said as the tug crew watched the Harpoon twist and turn through the platforms. Finally it streaked right into a large rig in the middle of the pack. Another enormous explosion followed. When the smoke and flame cleared, nothing remained of the platform except some scattered, burning debris.
“Wow!” Hunter exclaimed. “Good shooting, guys!”
But now they heard other noises. Turning back to the fleet, they saw by the light of the burning cruiser that five of the Briareus ships had turned broadside to the platforms.
“Oh boy,” Yaz said. “Here we go.”
No sooner had he spoken than the first volley of shells streaked over their heads and came crashing down around the platforms. As soon as those shells hit, another barrage was tearing over their heads.
“Paddy!” Hunter yelled, “can you get this baby going just one more time?”
“I’ll give it a try,” the Irishman said, scrambling down the ladder leading to the boat’s engine room. “But I think she’s had it … ”
Now the oil platforms began their revenge. Suddenly two Exocets zoomed by the tug, no more than twenty feet out.
“I’m glad we’ve got nothing those bastards can home in on,” Hunter said. He watched as the two rockets streaked off toward the Briareus ships, blue flames spitting out of their tails.
Bang! Bang!
“Two direct hits!” Yaz yelled out as the Exocets slammed into a destroyer and a missile-launcher corvette. The explosions were so powerful, a shock wave rippled back to the tug.
Now, less than a minute after the Harpoons had hit, the sky was filled with flaming ordnance. Incredible naval gunfire from the fleet, dozens of Exocets from the platforms. The dark night had now become like day in the reflections of the explosions. Hunter looked up at the face of Lucifer, still hanging in the sky, the expression oblivious to the sudden violent battle that had broken out.
“Well, we’ve certainly started something,” Yaz said excitedly as a trio of Exocets raced by. “Now where the hell is that chopper?”
At that moment, O’Brien emerged from the engine room. “She’s dead, major,” he said. “Can’t get her to even cough.”
“Don’t worry,” Hunter said, closing his eyes and listening. Ah, yes, the feeling was coming over him. It had been a long time. Too long. “The chopper is on its way.”
Exactly one minute later, the frigate copter was hovering above the tug, its winch line lifting the first two crew members up to safety. Despite all the missiles flying around and the shells streaking overhead, the Norwegian chopper pilot held steady. He didn’t flinch when a stray round from a destroyer fell within a few hundred feet of the tug.
Hunter and Yaz were the last to go up. No sooner were the crew members dragging Hunter on board then the chopper pilot dropped to nearly wave-top level and throttled up. In seconds, the copter was dashing out of the battle zone and heading for the carrier flotilla.