by CW Browning
“How is she?” he asked them brusquely.
“Sleeping,” said one. “The doc was just here and gave her another dose. Before that, she was moving around in there, but she didn’t try to get out.”
Harry nodded and cracked open the door, peering inside. Angela was laying on the bed, fast asleep. He watched her for a second, then closed the door again.
“Did the doctor say anything about her condition?”
“Only that she’s in a lot of pain,” the second guard said with a shrug.
“Where is he now?”
“He’s gone to the pool for a night swim.”
He nodded and turned to leave, but paused after a few steps and looked over his shoulder.
“Stay awake,” he warned them. “It’s quiet, but if anyone comes on this yacht, they’ll be coming for her.”
Both men nodded and one patted the bulge at his side.
“We’re ready,” he promised.
Harry nodded and turned to make his way back up to one of the upper levels where a full-sized swimming pool offered additional recreation. He’d get a full medical report from the doctor and then go back to his baseball game. In the morning, he would re-evaluate. If there was still no sign of Viper, he would do as Roberto wished and leave, taking Angela with them. There was no rush. Viper would find him eventually and, when she did, he would finish what he’d started last year. It was time for the Organization to be destroyed.
And it would begin with Viper.
Harry had just reached the swimming pool when one of the crew members came running up behind him breathlessly.
“Colonel!” he gasped. “Captain wants you right away!”
Harry scowled and turned away from the pool as the doctor finished a lap and surfaced near the far end.
“What’s going on?” he demanded, pinning the crew member with a ferocious look.
“I don’t know,” he stammered. “He just said to get you and be quick.”
Harry exhaled and followed the young man quickly to the stairwell that would lead him back up to the bridge. Instead of accompanying him, the crew member continued down the corridor.
“Where are you going?”
The man turned to look at him. “To find Roberto.”
Harry frowned and went up the stairs to the upper level. If the captain wanted both him and Roberto, something must be wrong. When he reached the bridge, he didn’t bother knocking but opened the door and strode inside.
The captain was seated in front of his controls and flat screens, alternating between looking at the screens and peering out of the windows. The spotlights had been turned on outside, flooding the waves around the yacht with light. When he entered, the captain glanced at him.
“You wanted to know if anything changed,” he said shortly.
“Yes?”
“That fishing boat is moving,” he said, pointing to one of the screens. “It began moving a couple minutes ago. It’s heading straight for us. I’m waiting for it to come into view now.”
Harry strode forward and looked at the blip on the screen where the captain was pointing.
“How fast is it traveling?”
“About forty knots. Not fast enough to be alarming, but fast enough to make me think it’s not a fisherman.”
Harry raised his eyes and peered out into the illuminated ocean in front of them. After a second, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
“That’s not a fishing boat,” he told the captain, dialing. “It wouldn’t be coming straight for us like that.”
The captain glanced at him. “You think it’s what you’ve been waiting for?”
Harry didn’t answer. Instead, he spoke into his phone. “Roberto, get your men ready. There’s something happening. Get them to the front of the boat.”
He hung up and watched through the windows, waiting for the boat to come into range of the floodlights. Below them, at the front of the bow, the helipad was empty. As he watched, Roberto ran out and across the open space, heading for the railing on the bow. Most of his men followed him, machine guns draped across their torsos, and Harry nodded faintly in approval. If Viper had chosen to hit them head on, she was in for a warm welcome.
“There!”
The captain pointed and Harry watched as a small speedboat came into view off the starboard bow. The figure at the helm was dressed in black tactical gear and Harry sucked in his breath. A part of him hadn’t really believed it could be her. Viper wasn’t reckless, and she certainly knew better than to come at them straight-on, but it appeared that that was exactly what she had decided to do.
“What are you up to?” he murmured to himself, watching as the boat skimmed across the waves, showing no indication of slowing down.
The look of interest quickly turned to one of disbelief as the boat sped toward them, drawing closer by the second.
“What the hell are they doing?” the captain exclaimed. “It’s going to run right into us!”
Harry clenched his jaw as the boat drew dangerously close and the captain quickly spun the wheel, trying to turn the yacht and avoid a collision. Roberto’s men opened fire, pelting the boat with a rain of bullets, yet the craft continued, the figure at the helm not moving.
The explosion was sudden, lighting up the water and night with a brilliant starburst of yellow and white. The bow of the small boat lurched up out of the water as flames engulfed the vessel, shooting sparks and debris into the air as the boom reached them in the bridge.
Harry stared, dumbfounded, at the burning wreckage of the speedboat as the aftershocks reverberated through the yacht, setting the whole ship trembling for a moment. While the vessel hadn’t hit the yacht, it was close enough that they felt the explosion keenly.
“What the hell just happened?” he barked at the captain. “Did you see what happened?”
“It exploded.”
“Yes, thank you,” he snapped, turning to stride out of the bridge. “I want to know why!”
“Well, they were shooting at it,” the captain called after him. “Maybe they hit the tank.”
Harry scowled and moved down the stairs to the lower level, running along the corridor to the helipad.
“What the hell just happened?” he repeated his question to Roberto as he emerged onto the helipad.
“We stopped her,” Roberto told him triumphantly. “We killed the Viper!”
Harry pushed past him and ran to the railing, staring over the side at the burning remnants of the boat. Parts of wood and fiberglass floated on the waves while flames devoured the structure of the boat. Something caught his eyes and he frowned. Turning, he motioned to the bridge, pointing to the area.
“Tell him to point a light on it!” he yelled.
Roberto pulled a hand-held radio out of his pocket and spoke into quickly. A moment later, one of the spotlights shifted, lending more light to the wreckage in the water. Harry sucked in his breath as he stared at what had caught his attention.
A deflated rubber inflatable wearing black tactical gear floated amongst the debris.
“Dammit!”
Harry spun around just as the sound of rapid gunfire reached them, coming from the stern. Roberto froze, staring at Harry in a moment of utter confusion.
“I don’t understand,” he began, but Harry cut him off as another burst gunfire erupted from the port aft.
“The boat was a decoy,” he exclaimed disgustedly. “Viper is here. She came at the stern. She’s already aboard!”
Viper reached up and cut the parachute lines away with her combat knife as a gust of ocean wind propelled her forward. The stern of the Sea Queen bobbed about ten feet below her, the flat deck deserted. She braced herself as she dropped, the black parachute disappearing into the waves behind the yacht. Her black boots hit the wood hard and she grimaced as the abrupt jolt sent shock waves up her spine. Gravity pulled her forward and she braced one black-gloved hand on the wooden planks to stop from falling flat on her face. Looking up, she watched as
another large black piece of nylon floated down to disappear into the waves. Hawk had landed on the uppermost level.
She straightened up and quickly undid the straps of the parachute pack on her back, pulling it off and tossing it over the side into the water. Michael’s boat should be drawing attention to the bow of the ship, and that was where most of the security would be. She only had a few seconds. She swiftly unclipped the bag containing the diving tank and pulled it over her head. Looking around, she moved to a rattan chaise-lounge on the side of the deck and bent down to shove the bag under it. It would be safe there for now.
Then, glancing at her watch, she moved silently to the port side, moving along the outer railing of the yacht swiftly. She had just reached the outer steps to take her to the next level when the yacht lurched and the deck vibrated beneath her feet. A second later, she heard the explosion. A small, satisfied smile curled her lips and she ascended to the next level quickly. Michael should be getting on board now, if he wasn’t already, and would start looking for Angela. It was up to her to make sure he had the opportunity to get her and then get to the tender boat in the garage behind the deck where she had just landed.
Reaching the next level, she turned aft and moved along the outer railing to the back of the boat. Coming to a wall of windows, she paused and pressed herself against the side of the ship, leaning forward to peer into the inner room. A huge TV flickered on the far end and she blinked at the sight of the Phillies at bat. Something pulled deep inside her. Viper wasn’t a superstitious woman, but at the sight of Dave’s favorite team hitting a home run, she felt a wave of peace go through her. It had to be a sign that Dave was watching out for her.
Shaking her head, she scanned the room and, finding it empty, moved quickly past the wall of windows. She was being ridiculous. Dave was dead, and she would be too if she kept letting things like a baseball game distract her.
Viper came to a stop suddenly as the hair on the back of her neck prickled and a shiver of awareness shot down her spine. Pressing herself against the side of the ship again, she glanced behind her to find the walkway empty. She turned her head back and listened, trying to hear something above the sound of the waves. There! Someone was moving toward the walkway around the corner ahead.
Pulling out her combat knife, Viper moved silently along the wall until she was next to the corner. She could hear the person breathing and smelled the acrid scent of cigarette smoke. A radio crackled and then a voice came over, loud in the silence.
“Pedro, go to the girl’s room and back up Marcus and Jose,” a voice barked. “A boat just tried to ram us. Make sure the prisoner is secure.”
A heavy sigh greeted that and a cigarette butt flew past the edge of the wall to disappear over the railing.
“En camino.”
Pedro rounded the corner, looking down as he clipped the radio back onto his belt. The last thing he saw was a blade flashing into his line of vision before it disappeared into his sternum. He opened his mouth, whether to scream or suck in air Viper would never know. Her gloved hand covered it swiftly as she wrenched the blade up to pierce his heart. A moment later, Pedro’s eyes slid closed and she pulled the knife out as he slid silently to the floor.
She reached down and pulled the 9mm from his waistband before stepping over him and peering around the corner. Finding the adjoining walkway empty, she moved along it until she reached a door that would take her inside. Opening it, she slid inside and the smell of chlorine assaulted her nostrils. A full-sized pool stretched before her, surrounded by waterproofed teak flooring and several chairs. Someone was swimming underwater, heading away from her, and she moved silently to the side.
It was a man, and he was about halfway down the length of the pool. If he had gone under at the end, he would have to surface for air soon. She pulled one of the Ruger SR22s from its holster and reached into her inside jacket pocket for a suppressor. Attaching it with quick, sure fingers, she watched as the man continued underwater for a few more strokes. By the time he surfaced for air, she was ready, with the gun pointed at his head. At this distance, she couldn’t miss.
After gulping some air, however, the man went back under and continued swimming. Viper made a face and lowered her pistol, moving alongside the pool and keeping pace with him, one eye on the swimmer and one eye on the other door to the pool room. He reached the end of the pool and this time when he surfaced, he was confronted with the end of a barrel.
“Who are you?!” he gasped, falling back a pace in the pool and staring up at her, water dripping down his face and neck.
“Who are you?” Viper returned softly.
The man visibly shuddered at the tone in her voice.
“I’m the ship’s doctor,” he said quickly, holding up his hands. “I’m one of the crew.”
Viper tilted her head and studied him for a moment.
“Is that so? And what kind of illnesses do you treat on the high seas, doctor?”
“I...well, all kinds,” he stammered. “Cuts, breaks, the odd gunshot or two.” He shrugged and smiled weakly. “Water sports are a dangerous business.”
“And are there many water sports going on right now?” she asked softly.
He shook his head, his hands shaking.
“No. Nothing. All I have is a patient that I have to keep sedated.”
“How boring for you. So everyone is healthy?”
“Well, everyone except her.”
Viper’s eyes narrowed swiftly and she raised one eyebrow. “Her?”
His eyes widened at the deadly tone in her voice.
“Yes. She has a dislocated shoulder. It happened before they brought her onboard. It’s too swollen to put back into place, so I must keep her sedated to manage the pain.”
Before Viper could press him for more information, a staccato of gunfire erupted from the direction of the stern. She stood up and ran swiftly to the door she had entered from, cracking it open and listening. Someone was shouting below and then there was a single shot, followed a second later by more rapid fire. Viper moved to the railing quickly and looked over in time to see Michael take cover behind the chaise lounge where she had hidden her bag. A figure lay prone on the deck a few feet away from him, a machine gun beside him. Turning her head, she saw another man advancing across the deck with an automatic in his hands.
Viper raised her gun and, a second later, the man fell backwards with a bullet hole in his forehead. Michael straightened up from behind the furniture and looked up at her. She touched her forehead in salute and he lifted a hand in thanks before darting out and disappearing from view along the port side.
Turning, she went back into the pool room in time to see the good doctor pull something out of a bag on the other side of the pool. He turned, a gun in his hand, and Viper fired. Blood appeared on his bare chest and the gun slipped out of his hand as he stumbled back, falling into the chair. She strode around the pool and towards him, her gun never wavering.
“Where is the patient with the dislocated shoulder?” she demanded, reaching him.
He stared up at her, his eyes glazed with pain. “I...can’t...he’ll kill me...” he gasped.
Viper looked down at him coldly.
“You’re already dead. Where is she?”
After a few ragged gasps for air, he capitulated. “Cabin at the end...second level...”
Viper nodded, watching as he took his last breaths before she turned to leave the pool room. As she did so, her ear bud came alive.
“Satellite and electricals are primed. I’ll detonate as soon as Michael and Angela clear the ship,” Hawk said in her ear, his voice low and deep. “I’m heading for the lower level.”
“Roger that,” she replied, reaching the other door and cracking it open. Finding the corridor empty, she moved out of the pool room. “Tell Michael Angie is on the second level, in the cabin at the end.”
“Got it.” Hawk sounded out of breath, like he was running. “I’ll let you know when the rest of the charges are
set. Good hunting.”
“You too.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Michael moved down the corridor, his heart pounding. That had been too close for comfort. When he climbed aboard at the stern, he hadn’t been expecting anyone to be waiting. They should have all been at the front of the yacht. Thankfully, as he pulled himself out of the water, he heard the shout from the other side of the deck and had time to fire before the first man pulled the trigger. His shot had been true, but another one had come around the corner just as he moved away from the edge of the deck. He managed to roll out of reach from the spray of bullets haphazardly sent in his direction. Luckily for him, the person firing clearly had no real experience in aiming his weapon. He just pointed in the general direction and pulled the trigger. Even so, it had been damn close. If it hadn’t been for Alina, he doubted he would have made it past the stern.
He shook his head. When he looked up, an involuntary chill had gone down his spine. Even though she was on his side, the look on her face had been enough to make even the staunchest Marine balk. She looked like an avenging demon, standing near the railing dressed in full gear. He had been staring at her in shock when she raised her hand and touched her forehead in salute, breaking him out of his stupor. It was one thing to know what Dave’s kid sister did for a living; it was something altogether different to actually see her in action.
There had been no sign of Damon, but Michael knew that if Alina was onboard, so was he. He had no idea how they got to the yacht, but clearly no one on the ship was aware of their presence. Yet. He had to locate Angela before that happened. Once the colonel realized what was happening, the cartel would spread out and tear the yacht apart looking for her.
He was halfway down the corridor when a door opened behind him and he heard an exclamation. Michael’s heart sank, then started pounding once again.
“¡Eh, tú!” a deep voice called. “Stop!”