“Well enough?” the jaunty Englishman asked, motioning Clara to push him to the front of the room. “I’ve never felt better!”
His bandages and accompanying intravenous bottle notwithstanding, Hunter did notice that the Brit looked better than at any time since his wounding.
Heath stepped down as Sir Neil took center stage.
“All aircraft returned safely?” Sir Neil asked.
“Yes, sir,” Hunter answered.
“And the Moroccans have landed?” the British commander asked. “The Aussies and Gurkhas deployed?”
“Yes, suh!” Heath called out.
“Smashing!” the Englishman said. “And we’ve taken a measure of them in our first attack. Then we’ve done what we came here to do.”
The group of pilots broke into a spontaneous round of applause. It was Sir Neil’s show all the way.
“Now, let’s get serious,” the Englishman continued. “Hunter, what can we expect if they counterattack?”
Hunter thought for a moment, then said, “I think it’s really not a question of if, but when. They’ve got at least four squadrons of Hinds and I’m sure a lot of small surface-attack craft.”
“Any guess as to when they’ll strike back?”
“Could be within the hour,” Hunter said, slowly looking around at the assembled pilots. “Could be tomorrow. Could be as soon as night falls.”
Chapter 40
“Ready! Aim! Fire!”
The firing squad obeyed and unleashed a barrage at the four men standing on the stern of the battleship. The bullets hit the men in the heads and chests with enough force to knock them off the back of the ship and into the water.
High above, looking down from one of the ship’s catwalks, were Lucifer, three of his bodyguards, and the captain of the battleship. Lucifer was absolutely livid with rage.
“Do you see that, captain?” he asked, sneering at the naval officer. “That will happen to you and any other officer who betrays me!”
“I understand, Your Highness,” the nervous officer answered. “But surely you know that I had nothing to do with what happened to our ships—”
“I understand nothing!” Lucifer spit back at him. “You are supposed to be naval officers. Yet did any of you at least mention to me that the cursed carrier was in the middle of the Canal, and not floundering somewhere off the coast of Egypt?”
“But Your Highness,” the captain, a heady Brazilian, came back. “We don’t have the air-recon capability that the carrier has. Plus they must have found some way to propel the ship. Surely, they didn’t tow it that distance in such a short time.”
“Excuses!” Lucifer screamed at the top of his lungs. His bodyguards had seen him swallow a handful of pills earlier and now they knew the amphetamines were taking affect. “We are the most powerful fleet in the world. They are a bunch of misfit, underpaid mercenaries, foolish enough to haul a carrier across the Med. We should be able to crush them! Yet, because of this … this conspiracy of ignorance among my top officers, these English glory boys sink some of the best ships in our fleet!”
“But, Your Highness,” the captain pressed on, perhaps foolishly. “We are certain they have this pilot — Hunter — with them. His airplane has been spotted. The … ah, action at the pyramid might have been his doing. If this is true, he is a formidable foe.”
“More excuses!” Lucifer screamed. “Don’t tell me of this Hunter! I’ve fucked his woman! Understand? He’s no match for me. For the power I have at my disposal.
“Now immediately launch a counterattack! You are personally in charge, captain. Send the Hinds! Send our fastest ships up past the wreckage of those fools and attack! Attack! Attack! Wipe out those comic-book heroes. Send all of our battleships after them if necessary!”
The captain looked at Lucifer strangely. “All the battleships?” the captain asked. “Including this one?” For all he knew this was the first time the leader had mentioned putting himself near the battle.
“If necessary, captain,” the man answered snidely. “I will tolerate no more delays!”
The black-cloaked man was pounding his fist on the battleship’s railing.
“And if you don’t succeed, captain,” Lucifer continued, “you can be sure you’ll be down there next!”
The captain gulped once and watched as four more officers were lined up and executed, their bloody bodies dropping into the water like four stones.
Chapter 41
“Here they come!” The radar man in the Saratoga’s CIC called out.
Instantly, Hunter and Heath were looking over the man’s shoulder.
“Fast attack craft, just as you guessed, Hunter,” Heath said, hitting the carrier’s battle stations’ klaxon as he spoke. “Looks like about sixty of them! Thirty miles and closing.”
It was an hour past sundown. The flotilla was under strict blackout rules. Photos from the S-3A had confirmed twenty-three ships were sunk or damaged in the air strikes, but also that there was enough room between the hulks for the smaller fast-patrol craft of Lucifer’s fleet to squeeze through. And now they were here …
Heath was on the radio immediately, sending a predetermined coded message to the Commodore. He knew, as soon as it was sent, the Freedom Navy would be on the move. Four of Olson’s helicopters would also go into action.
“They’re off,” Heath reported as he heard the confirmation messages coming back from the armed yachts of the Commodore’s fleet. “The choppers too.”
Hunter shook his head. “Now, all we can do is wait … ”
Hunter stood on the bow of the carrier and watched the flashes of the spectacular battle off in the distance. He knew the fighting would be at too close quarters to risk sending any of the jets into action. They had to hope that the Commodore’s “reformed” pirates could stop the attack.
He watched the flares and explosions off to the south for the entire night, knowing that each hour that passed indicated an increase in the brutality of the fighting. He saw pieces of debris and bodies float by the carrier, even as the fires on the horizon grew brighter. He heard loud blasts similar to sonic booms, and occasionally, when the air was calm, the sound of high-powered deck guns chattering back and forth at each other.
Finally, just as the sun came up, the noise to the south ceased. Now dozens of separate funnels of smoke rose to meet and create one huge black cloud. He waited, scanning the horizon for returning survivors of the Freedom Navy. Heath and Sir Neil joined him and still they waited, saying that many of the Commodore’s ships were probably low on fuel and therefore returning at the lowest speed possible.
A full hour went by and still they waited. They shared a powerful pair of binoculars and took turns scanning the horizon. But all they saw was the smoke.
Finally, Hunter spoke the words none of them wanted to hear. “I don’t think any of them are coming back … ” he said slowly.
One of Olson’s choppers confirmed it. Launched to survey the battle area, the pilot landed on the Saratoga less than twenty minutes later and reported to Sir Neil directly.
“There is nothing, no one left,” the Norwegian pilot told them. “None of them. None of us. Ships burning everywhere. Some jammed together. Like they were ramming each other. Our helicopters all gone too.”
“No survivors at all?” Sir Neil asked, not quite believing it.
The Norseman shook his head.
“The Commodore gone?” Heath said, thinking of the colorful, Napoleonic figure.
“Those brave, crazy bastards … ” Hunter said, sadness in his voice.