Lucas and Gary exchanged a glance. “Where are the keys?”
“The guards have them. If not, maybe somewhere out by the main door?”
Gary moved to the two dead men and did a quick search, and then reappeared with a full ring and tried keys until the lock sprang open. He repeated the effort at the next cell and, when the door opened, stepped back and tossed the keys to the floor.
“What are we going to do?” Gary asked.
“Guide them to the tunnel and get them to safety.” Lucas checked the time. “I need to intercept the others before they head to the boat.”
Gary gasped. “That’s right. They don’t know…”
“Get them outside,” Lucas ordered, and pushed past the prisoners to the cell block exit, and then rushed through the station to the entrance. Jeb and Ray were waiting outside, looking nervous. Shots continued to ring out from all around them as the Chinese warded off the attack.
“Well?” Jeb demanded.
“They aren’t here. The Chinese took them to the ship today,” Lucas said, eyes roving over the area as he spoke.
“But…they’re going to blow it up! We have to stop them.”
“Gary’s got the rest of the prisoners. Take them through the sewers to the rendezvous area. I’m headed for the pier.”
“I’m going with you,” Jeb said.
“You’ll just slow me down.”
“That’s my wife and daughter we’re talking about. If you think I’m leaving them on that boat…”
Lucas sighed. “We’re wasting time. Ray, work with Gary. Jeb and I are headed to the waterfront.”
Another deeper-pitched explosion sounded from the area by the main gate, and Lucas placed a hand on Jeb’s shoulder. “Change of plans. You head to the boat and tell them to wait for me.”
“Where are you going?”
“To see what’s making that racket. If it’s a rocket launcher, I need to take it out so Art has a fighting chance.”
“We don’t have time, Lucas.”
“If you were out there getting hammered, you might see it differently.”
“It’s going to be over pretty soon anyway–”
“Just do as I say. I’ll be there in a few,” Lucas snapped, and then took off at a run, not waiting for Jeb’s response.
Jeb glowered at his departing back and then turned to Ray. “I can find my way back to the sewer when we return from the boat. Just leave the cover ajar like I did.”
Ray gave a small salute. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
Lucas drove himself hard and covered the ground to the main gate in three minutes. He was panting by the time he slowed, the mortar shell explosions having stopped moments before, and cringed at another deep boom from the tree line outside the gate. He inched to the corner of a stone building and peeked around it, and spied a half dozen soldiers firing from the sandbagged guard post. At least three times that many dead lay strewn about the approach, smoking mortar craters telling the story of their demise. Lucas looked along the line of buildings that faced the gate and saw movement in a second-story window of what had once been a hardware store with an apartment above, and nodded to himself at the distinctive shape of a shoulder-fired rocket tube projecting from the sill.
He made for the ground-floor shop, the display window long gone, its interior as dark as the bottom of the bay. Once inside, he stepped cautiously through the debris, using his NV scope to see; any noise he made was masked by the gunfire from the battle roaring outside. At the back of the shop he found a stairway that led up, and he exchanged his partially spent magazine for a full one before mounting the stairs.
At the second-floor landing, he heard two men arguing in Chinese and crept toward the sound, M4 pointed at the source. He stopped at a partially open door and, when he was sure the argument was coming from inside, swung it open and moved into the room in a crouch, firing bursts as he went.
The soldier clutching a rocket launcher screamed in anguish as Lucas’s rounds shredded through him, and he dropped the weapon onto the hardwood floor as he collapsed. Lucas shifted his aim to the second man, who was turning toward him with an AK, and cut him to pieces with two staccato bursts. Seeing no other threats, Lucas crossed the room, set his rifle down, and scooped up the rocket launcher to study its sighting and firing system. It seemed straightforward enough, and Lucas moved to the window, aimed at the soldiers firing from the sandbags, and gently squeezed the trigger.
The rocket streaked to the guard post and exploded in a blinding flash, instantly vaporizing the shooters. He didn’t linger to eye his handiwork and instead reached for the last launching tube on the floor beside the dead soldier and shouldered it. Lucas sighted on the gate and fired, and was already dropping the tube and snatching up his rifle when the rocket blew the heavy iron barrier aside like it was made out of cardboard.
Lucas was down the stairs and out the door before the smoke had cleared from the twin blasts, and was running with all the speed he could manage through the rain as he left the scene of the massacre and tore across town to the waterfront, where hopefully Jeb had heeded his instructions and was waiting. He was halfway to the pier when he nearly ran headlong into a four-man patrol, and narrowly evaded detection by pressing himself into a doorway as the men rushed by. Lucas resisted the urge to gun them down and waited until they disappeared into the mist, and then continued to the pier, watching for more troops in case he wasn’t so lucky the next time.
He crossed the shoreline boulevard and darted toward the pier just as the shooting from the gates stopped, signaling that Art’s men had either all been killed or had pulled back and were headed for the rendezvous point. He picked up his pace for the final stretch and then skidded on the wet concrete to avoid stumbling over the body of a dead Chinese soldier.
“What the…” he exclaimed, crouching with his rifle at the ready. He spotted five more dead soldiers sprawled on the ground, and was straightening when Jeb called out in a hoarse whisper.
“They’re all dead.” Jeb stepped from behind the building at the edge of the pier and walked slowly to Lucas.
“How?”
“Must have been a shoot-out. They were dead when I got here.”
“What about Gary and his crew?”
Jeb shook his head. “They didn’t make it. Two of them are by the building. Gary’s in the boat.” Jeb paused. “Sounds like the firing from our side stopped.”
“Chinese are shooting at shadows now,” said Lucas. “Probably continue for a while.”
Jeb squinted at the ship’s lights. “We’re going to have to rescue them ourselves, aren’t we?”
Lucas’s expression was grim. “Looks that way. Let’s get to it before someone figures out what’s going on.”
“How many Chinese you figure we got?”
“At least forty or fifty. But that still leaves too many.”
It was Jeb’s turn to nod. “It’s a start. You think there’s a bunch more on the ship?”
“Might be. Only one way to find out.”
“Just us?”
“We’re the only ones left. Are the charges still in the rowboat?”
“Looks that way.” Jeb paused. “How are we going to find my family on a ship that size?”
A smile tugged at the corner of Lucas’s mouth. “Ask.”
Jeb stared at Lucas in disbelief and then awareness softened his features. He nodded and closed his eyes, and Lucas saw his lips move. When he opened them again, his gaze was hard.
“So be it. We’ll find them.”
Lucas made for the railing, his footsteps sure on the slippery surface.
“One way or another.”
Chapter 43
Jeb cast off the bow line and Lucas lowered Gary’s body into the water as the rowboat drifted from the dock. Jeb coiled the line neatly in the bow and then sat on the middle seat and reached for the oars.
“I grew up fishing these waters in skiffs like these. Never thought I’d be rowing one
outside the mouth of the bay in a storm,” he said.
“We can switch off if you get tired.”
“That’s not going to happen. But it’s going to get ugly once we hit the ocean, unless the sea’s flattened since the rain hit.”
“Not much of a wind.”
“That might be the only thing that’s gone our way tonight.”
Jeb began rowing, and the little boat cut across the surface with surprising speed. Lucas inspected the demolition packs as they made their way toward the ship, and once satisfied that they were intact, regarded the rowboat with a frown.
“How many can one of these things hold?”
“A twenty-two-footer like this? Maybe eight, ten people on a good day.” Jeb took another powerful pull on the oars and the boat seemed to skim along the surface. “We’ll manage.”
“I see a couple of bullet holes in the hull, but above the waterline.”
“Another lucky break. Doesn’t matter. We can always plug them with something. It’s pretty hard to sink one of these – they built them with a layer of foam in the hull. Good design. They’ll last forever.”
Lucas watched the rainwater sloshing in the bilge. “How do you get the water out?”
“Hand pump. There’s one in the stern.”
Lucas busied himself with the pump, which consisted of a plastic tube with a hose connected to a nub near the end with a handle. He stared at the hose and the tube, and Jeb grinned.
“You stick the tube in the water and the hose over the side. Works like magic.”
Lucas did as instructed, and each time he withdrew the handle and pushed it back in, a stream of black water gurgled over the side from the hose. The bilge was dry within no time, and Lucas set the pump back in place and looked up at the clouds.
“Rain’s letting up some,” he observed.
“Good and bad. That means less pumping, but visibility from the ship will improve.”
Lucas could make out the dark outline of the vessel as they neared. The bulk was enormous, like a skyscraper turned on its side. If it had looked huge from shore, now it was impossibly large, and as the little boat approached, the charcoal hull seemed to block out the sky.
“There’s a gangplank,” Lucas said, pointing. Jeb twisted to look over his shoulder and grunted. “Anyone on guard?”
Lucas raised the M4 and perused the area through the scope.
“Negative.” Lucas hesitated. “At this rate we should be there in a few more minutes.”
“Then what?”
“We’ll see.”
The skiff reached the gangplank, where three Chinese boats were lashed to the portable dock at the base. Jeb shifted his bulk, moved to the bow, and tied the line, all in seemingly one fluid motion. When Jeb had made it onto the dock, Lucas passed him the three demolition packs and climbed from the boat, the floating platform surprisingly stable to his landlubber legs.
“Can you carry two?” Lucas asked. Jeb nodded and handed him one of the packs. Lucas slipped his arms through the straps and Jeb did the same for one and shouldered the other, and then moved to the nearest Chinese boat and eyed the console.
“No keys, just an ignition button, transmission, and throttle. Wish we’d had one for the trip out here.”
Lucas held a finger to his lips and pointed up the gangplank rising eight stories from the surface at a steep angle. He began trudging up the passage, holding the rail with one hand and his rifle with the other, Jeb a half dozen yards behind him.
At the top, Lucas paused and took a look down the deck in both directions before whispering to Jeb, “All clear.”
Jeb didn’t comment, and Lucas crossed the expanse, keeping low so anyone in the bridge wouldn’t see him, and cut across the nonskid to a watertight door. When Jeb reached him, Lucas turned the wheel lock and pulled the hatch open, blinking in the artificial light that flooded from the interior.
They stepped through the door and onto a landing, and were faced with a decision: stairs up, stairs down, or the corridor to their right. Lucas wished he had an idea of where anything on the ship was besides the big guns, whose barrels announced their presence from miles away, but resigned himself to figuring it out as he went along.
Footsteps sounded from the metal floor of the hall, and he made his decision.
“Hide up there,” he whispered to Jeb, who immediately moved to the stairs and took silent steps until he was out of sight.
Lucas looked down at the floor, where water from their boots had puddled, leaving wet tracks from the exterior door, and realized that any subterfuge was unlikely to work. The footsteps drew nearer, and he just had time to lean his M4 against the wall and shrug off the backpack when two Chinese rounded the corner, one in an army uniform, holding a binder, the other in a sailor’s whites, empty-handed.
The sailor reached for his sidearm, and Lucas spun in a blur and leveled a powerful kick to his chest, knocking him backward with an audible crack of ribs. The man grunted as the wind rushed from his lungs, and Lucas followed through by freeing his hunting knife from its sheath and slashing across his throat, sending a spray of blood streaking along the wall. The officer with the binder dropped it and groped for his hip holster, but Lucas was too fast. He slammed the steel butt of the knife handle against the soldier’s temple with a brutal backhand that dropped the man like a brick.
Lucas relieved the army officer of his pistol and waited until he’d regained his senses enough to sit up. He held out his knife so the man could see the blood on the blade, and then spoke softly.
“You speak English?”
The man gave him a blank, frightened stare, and shook his head. Lucas pantomimed a woman’s curves and then held out his hands and shrugged quizzically. The officer’s eyes widened in realization and he pointed to the stairs leading down. Lucas motioned with his knife for the man to stand up, and felt in his vest for the bandana he used to wipe his brow on hot days. He retrieved it and balled it up, and then moved in close to the officer and pressed the knife blade to his throat as he brought the bandana to the man’s lips.
The officer got the hint and opened his mouth, and Lucas stuffed the bandana in it and stepped back.
“Jeb,” he whispered up the stairwell. Jeb materialized a moment later and regarded the Chinese prisoner.
“What do we want him for?” Jeb asked.
“He knows where they’re being kept.”
“How do you know he’s not lying?”
Lucas indicated the dead sailor lying in a lake of blood. “Doesn’t want to wind up like his buddy is my guess.” He paused. “Keep your gun on him while I get my pack and rifle. He tries anything, shoot him.”
Jeb flipped the safety on his rifle to burst mode, and the officer registered the sound as well as the merciless look on his face. Lucas retrieved his things, cleaned his blade on the dead sailor’s shirt, and then prodded the officer with the point just hard enough that the man knew he was ready to use it.
The officer took the stairs carefully after wiping the blood off his cheek from the knife blow to his head, and Lucas followed close behind in case he tried to bolt. At the second landing the man stopped and grunted. Lucas exchanged a glance with Jeb and prodded him with the knife again. The officer continued down an identical hall to the one above, and stopped fifty yards along it at a steel door with a bolt on the outside. Lucas pushed him out of the way and sheathed the knife before shrugging his rifle strap from his shoulder and bringing the M4 to bear.
“He moves, you know what to do,” he instructed Jeb, and then pressed his head against the door to listen. Hearing nothing after several seconds, he slowly slid the bolt with his free hand and twisted the handle, wincing at the squeak. He pushed the door open and looked inside, and found himself face-to-face with Ruby, Rosemary and Mary sitting on the floor behind her, Sylvia and two women on the far side of the chamber staring at him in surprise.
“Lucas!” Ruby blurted, and ran to him.
He hugged her and then gently pushed her away
. “We have to get out of here,” he said, his voice low. “Are you all right?”
“So far. How did you find us?”
“I had some help.” He looked to Rosemary and her mother. “Jeb’s in the hall. We’re here to take you to safety. Don’t make a sound.”
“Jeb?” Mary exclaimed, and Lucas shushed her.
“Quiet, unless you want to get us all killed,” he hissed.
Mary blanched and set her mouth. Lucas backed out of the room and stepped aside, eyes on Jeb. “They’re okay,” he said, and with no warning, clubbed the officer with his gun. The man slumped to the floor, unconscious, and Lucas knelt beside him as the women hurried from the room. Mary ran to Jeb and he embraced her, and then Rosemary joined her, tears streaming down her face.
“Papa! You found us–” she said, and Lucas cut her off.
“Shut up, or we’re not going to make it out alive,” he snapped.
The women fell silent, fighting panic, and Lucas hauled the officer into the room by the arms, deposited him in the center of the space, and then strode to the door and closed it, bolting it in place. Jeb eyed him, his expression saying he wanted guidance, and Lucas whispered to him, “Take them down to the boat. Give me the packs. I need to finish the job.”
“You want us to wait for you there?”
“No. I’ll take one of the Chinese boats. No reason to let them go to waste. Open the sea cocks on all but one and get out of here. I’ll take the last one.”
“What if it doesn’t start?”
“Pray it does.” Lucas paused. “Can you row all the way back with them aboard?”
“Try stopping me.”
“Then get going. I’ll meet you at the rendezvous point.”
Jeb handed Lucas the demolition packs and he draped one strap over each shoulder.
“Follow me up,” Lucas said. “I’ll head for the big guns and set the timers for twenty minutes. That should give you enough time to get clear.”
Ruby sidled next to him. “I can help.”
He shook his head. “No. This is my idea. I’ll do it. You go with them and help Jeb.”
Ruby studied his face, worry in her eyes, and touched his arm. “Be careful, Lucas. You’ve used up most of your nine lives.”
The Day After Never - Perdition (Book 6) Page 22