Imagine (Black Raven Book 4)

by Stella Barcelona

  “Scott.” He called the agent with the leg wound who was in the Compass Rose Bar. “Any sight of Skylar on the helipad?”

  “Negative, sir.”

  “They’ve got to be there, in the shadows, waiting for the chopper.”

  “Imagine’s helipad landing lights are now on.”

  “I’m on my way up.” The helipad was two decks above him, on the opposite side and end of the 440-foot ship. Saying that he was on his way helped him keep going. Plus, now that the theater was secure, it was damn well time for him to talk to the leader of the PLA Advance team. “Ragno. Put me on the line with Commissar Ming.”

  “Zeus is handling that. He’s in the war room, across from me…giving me a headshake.”

  “Tell Zeus I said it would be damn nice to strategize with Ming what needs to happen when they get here. It seems like that’s my duty as the lead agent on Imagine. Or, should I just not worry about Skylar’s two hostages?” Ace reached the door that would lead to the port side of the Clio deck and opened it. Sucking in cool, head-clearing ocean air, he glanced right towards the bow, then left towards the stern. No Quans in sight. The night was dark, but stars twinkled. Moonlight was reflected on the ocean’s rippling waters. Ace took the nearest set of stairs, two at a time. “Maybe I’ll recline in a deck chair, sip a piña colada, and wait for the fucking rescue as I—”

  “Understood, Evans.” Zeus’ words were heavy with a no-nonsense, humorless tone. “I’ll add you to my line with the Commissar ASAP. The delay has nothing to do with you. Ming’s using an interpreter to make sure there’s no misunderstanding. Comms are a bit stilted, and he’s an egotistical prick.”

  “Firepower of advance team?” Ace asked, reaching the top of the stairs, and running to the next set of exterior stairs, at midship.

  “According to Ming, there’s enough to destroy the following ship. Our intel tells me China’s got plenty in the near vicinity of Imagine. We’re catching the hot yellow spray of an international pissing match. China is secretive regarding military assets with everyone, especially the United States. Since we’re an American private security firm, widely known to have contracts with our government, he considers us one and the same as our government. And, because Imagine’s still in what China considers to be its territorial waters, and bearing a Chinese flag, there’s not a goddamn thing I can persuade the United States to do.”

  As he neared the top of the stairs, he heard heavy footsteps on the deck above him. He pressed himself against the wall, and glanced up to see two men, wearing camo gear, passing him. They saw him as he saw them. One turned, lifting his rifle. Ace fired before him. Two more Quans, down. “Will Ming fire at Follower upon arrival?”

  “Working on that now.”

  Stepping over the dead guys, Ace glanced left and right, then headed down the deck. “What the fuck does Ming need to know before he blows that goddamn ship out of the water?

  “He’s concerned about the identity of Follower, which is unknown at this time,” Zeus said. “He’s being secretive about strategy—”

  Frustration pulsed through Ace’s veins. “How has Ming not comprehended what’s at stake? I’ll gladly tell him the facts, in simple, easily translatable terms. Here goes. Whoever is in charge is responsible for more than 100 deaths. The lives of two hostages now hang on our immediate actions. Ming can do a Google search and figure out that May Wen and Randy Howell are pretty important. Plus, a who’s who of the world’s wealthiest people will die when the missiles that are pointed at us are fired.”

  “Zeus disconnected midway through your diatribe,” Ragno said. “He’s talking to Ming. He’ll be back with you…now. Here he is. Zeus only. Not Ming.”

  “I’m sharing your frustration.” Zeus’ tone remained steady and cool. “Urgency doesn’t change that we’re an American private security firm operating on a vessel that originated out of a city-state that a Communist country considers to be its own. Officials are in a bit of shock that we staged the operation as we did, and I’m sure as hell not explaining how we did it. Leo reestablished comms with us not even an hour ago. It’s taken me a while to work up the bureaucratic food chain. Ming’s first words to me, translated loosely, were, ‘your motherless fucking American mercenaries deserve to die for creating this mess in my country.’”

  “He’ll change his tune when he learns the details of what Quan Security is doing aboard this ship.”

  “Agreed,” Zeus said. “But he’s come a long way from his original perspective in a short time. Like it or not, he’s in charge. In this case, diplomacy means we have to appear not to be the ones giving orders.”

  “Understood.” Yet the only diplomacy he cared about was having Ming do what the fuck needed to happen, when Ace thought it damn well needed to happen. He thought for a second about the problem, and came up with an idea that might be a solution. Yet there was that niggling doubt that Ragno had created about his faith in Wen, and the doubt provided a caution signal.

  “Ragno? Any more info on Wen? Any concrete reason why I should doubt my hunch that he’s a good guy?” Unlike Leo, once comms had been restored, Ace hadn’t been privy to the endless text streams of the agents working in Denver.

  “Nothing concrete,” Ragno answered. “Skylar is working closely with someone. Before we shut down Quan’s comms, agents here, and Leo, suspected that Skylar was working with someone on the ship. Their hunch was based on Skylar listening to someone on Imagine on the encrypted line and the frequency of those comms, which we weren’t able to decipher. We haven’t ruled out Wen. Plus, whoever is doing this had access to the ship’s schematics and systems, and they did for some time. Wen certainly had access. His shipyard built the ship.”

  He understood Ragno’s concerns, yet his gut compelled him to believe that Wen was a good guy. “We managed to get access to the ship’s schematics and systems, without building the ship,” he said. “Plus, as security, Quan had access. And it could be that Skylar was in communication with the helm. Raznick’s a likely candidate. At this point, we don’t know who the hell is in there. Securing hostages was more of a priority.”

  “Leo gave us Raznick’s name as a person of interest,” Ragno said. “I’m clicking over to that team’s analysis now. Yes. Agents here detected sizable monetary deposits into his accounts within the last three months. They’re trying now to figure out the source of those wire transfers.”

  “So, Raznick’s more of a candidate to be Skylar’s partner than Wen,” Ace said. “I’m sticking with my hunch. Skylar and Wen are not working together. Let’s return to the idea of Wen helping us, because we’ve got a more immediate problem looming than who the ultimate players are. We’ve got to keep them from blowing up this ship and it doesn’t sound like Ming’s operating fast enough. Wen hasn’t gotten to be the wealthiest man in China by being ignorant on how to play political games. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” Zeus said.

  “Agreed,” Ragno echoed.

  “I’m almost to the helipad, where Wen was last seen. Give me a few seconds to get him on the line. If China’s wealthiest man can’t persuade Ming to listen to us, we don’t have a shot.”

  “Great idea,” Zeus said. “Assuming your hunch is correct.”

  It better be.

  “Evans,” Branch said, through the com system.

  “Go ahead, Branch,” Ace tried to brace himself for the bad news the medic might be delivering, while his mind raced across the distance he’d just travelled, over hundreds of yards of teak decks, down two stairwells, to the hallway where Leo lay with Branch at her side.

  Please, God. No. Not dead.

  Fuck it.

  Can’t.

  Can’t think like that.

  “Leo’s holding on. She can barely whisper,” Branch continued. “She’s trying to tell me something about a…prostitute. Got no idea why, but she’s insistent that I need to tell you guys.”

  Keeping his eyes peeled for Wen, Ace felt a glimmer of hope for Leo’s condition. Trying to
communicate facts had to be a positive sign. “Ragno? Mean anything?”

  “That was a thread earlier. I’m clicking over to that group’s analyses, to see where they ended up. But first, rotors are spinning on Follower’s chopper. I’ll let you know when they lift off. Copy?”

  “Copy.”

  “Okay,” Ragno said. “I’m back to the prostitute issue. Before you entered the theater, the group analyzing facial recognition had a ping on Miranda Lake, Howell’s fiancée. Facial rec pegged her as a window worker in Amsterdam, from one of the more exclusive brothels.”

  “That would mean that Howell had brought a prostitute aboard, passed her off as his fiancée, then gave a pretty convincing act of grief-stricken horror as Skylar executed her.” Ace thought about the show Howell had put on when Miranda had been shot. “Heartless. And clever. No one who witnessed that would think of him as a suspect.”

  “Yes, but the group determined that the facial recognition, prostitute identity was inconsistent with what our pre-cruise background analysis proved for her, which was that Miranda Lake was solidly American, from Iowa, trying to make her way in New York as a fashion model.”

  “But it now highlights questions about Howell, right?” Thinking aloud, Ace said, “He created a new genre of violent video games when he was a kid. Our pre-cruise due diligence on passengers brought up fluctuations in his finances—”

  “Correct. Yet the Miranda Lake profile is flawless,” Ragno said. “And the group dismissed the prostitute identification as an anomaly in the new facial recognition program, which is still in the testing phases.”

  “You’re talking about Leo’s program?”

  “Yes.”

  “She’s been working on redesigning it pretty steadily over the last two months. Given what I know about her work, I wouldn’t dismiss anything it produces.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  2:50 a.m.

  When Ace was twenty feet from the stern of the ship and the helipad, he slowed. He envisioned the deck plan as he edged toward the bright lights of the helipad. The rear portion of the interior space on the Terpsichore Deck housed the ship’s salon, spa, and workout rooms. The helipad was between those rooms and the back end of the ship. He assumed Skylar and his gang of operatives, with Randy Howell and May Wen, were on the opposite side of the ship from where he stood. He’d bet his last dollar that they were also edging forward, ready to run for the helicopter as soon as it touched down.

  A few feet in front of him, Wen stepped out of the shadows. He’d removed his tuxedo jacket. His white dress shirt clung to his skin. Dark circles under his eyes showed fatigue and worry. He kept his rifle at his side. Ace continued to trust his gut.

  “Please,” Wen said. “Help me rescue my wife. I’ll do anything…”

  Yep. A good guy. Not a bad one.

  “I’m doing everything in my power to make that happen.” Ace touched his watch, adjusting the audio line to pull in his conversation with Wen. “My comm system will pick up what you say. I’m connected to Black Raven HQ in Denver. They’ll hear you. You’ll hear them.”

  He quickly brought Wen up to speed about their difficulties communicating with the Chinese officials. He underscored the need to act quickly. Two sentences summed it up. “We’re getting slow played by your country. We’ll all die if they don’t blow up that fucking ship now.”

  “Who’s leading the operation?”

  “Commissar Ming,” Zeus answered, his voice as clear as if he stood next to them.

  “Know him?” Ace asked.

  “Too well. He’s a petty bureaucrat with little man syndrome. In recent years he’s struggled to gain control within the Central Military Commission. Currently, he’s on the outs with our President. Not a good place to be.”

  “Friend or foe to you?” Ace asked.

  “An old enemy dating back to college days. I know what kind of weapon power exists in our near proximity.” The dark night mingled with Imagine’s lights, casting shadows on Wen’s face that did nothing to hide the grimness and hard resolve in his eyes. “If Ming wanted to destroy Follower, it would already be gone. Which makes me wonder about his motivation. And just how much the man dislikes me.”

  “We need your highest-ranking friend on the line. Now. Someone with pull over Ming. Someone you trust to be damn concerned about your life, who will blow Follower out the water within a few minutes of talking to you.”

  “President Hu Jinmen.” He rattled off numbers. “Private line.”

  Powerful friends in China couldn’t get any higher than Jinmen, the General Secretary of the Communist Party of China and the Chairman of China’s Central Military. “Ragno. Copy?”

  “Yes. Securing a connection now,” Ragno said. “Ace, the chopper on Follower lifted off. They’ll descend upon Imagine within three minutes.”

  “Scott,” Ace said, calling the agent who was in position in the picture windows of the Compass Rose. “Any Quans on the helipad?”

  “None yet,” Scott said.

  “They’ll all be there soon. Start picking them off. We can’t let them get on that chopper. The second it lifts off from this ship, we’ll be blown to pieces. And we cannot, under any circumstances, let them put May Wen and Randy Howell on the chopper.” Whatever unfolded in the next few minutes, he knew damn well there’d be no good ending for May Wen or Randy Howell if Skylar was able to pull them into the chopper.

  “Copy that. Take out the chopper?”

  “On my signal. I’ll be working on that as well. With Wen.”

  “Copy.”

  Wen nodded. “Got it.”

  Ace edged towards the stern, with Wen at his side, as they waited for President Jinmen to get on the phone. And, those weren’t his only worries.

  “Branch?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How is she?”

  The medic hesitated.

  “Goddammit. Tell me.”

  “Fading.” Branch continued. “Field transfusion ongoing, but she’s still bleeding. She needs full-fledged trauma services, Ace. Soon.”

  Ace was looking into Ling Wen’s dark brown eyes as he absorbed the news, which Wen heard. Wen gave Ace a slow nod, his eyes conveying grim understanding.

  President Jinmen interrupted the downward spiral, deep in his gut, that Branch’s news brought. Jinmen spoke in flawless English. “Hello, Ling. Something has to be seriously wrong if you’re calling at this time of the morning.”

  After Wen quickly brought the President up to speed on the circumstances aboard Imagine, Zeus left the matter in Ace’s hands. “A mass hijacking is turning into a mass murder, Mr. President, and we need you to stop it,” Ace said. “Ragno, does the President have the video feed of the theater and the weapons on board Follower?”

  “Working on that…now he does.”

  The line exploded with a conversation in heated, rapid-fire Mandarin, between Wen, Jinmen, and Ming. With a few seconds delay, Ragno translated and paraphrased what they were saying. “Ming’s slow-playing is now over. The advance team will now take out Follower within five minutes. They’ll use precision firing, but given the proximity, there will be wave action and repercussions on Imagine. Chinese military is aware of how close the two ships are. Now that the President is in charge, no one would dare screw this up.

  “Just the kind of progress we needed. Thank you, Mr. President,” Zeus said.

  “Still longer than optimal,” Ace muttered. “But I can work with it.”

  “Copy that, Ace,” Ragno said.

  The interior rooms of the Terpischore Deck blocked Ace’s view of the other ship. “What’s Follower doing?”

  “Repositioning. Pulling slightly ahead, and turning slightly. Prepping for firing. I’m starting a countdown. Four and a half minutes to detonation by our advance team. Give or take a few seconds.”

  Before taking off at a run, he had to know what was happening with Leo. “Marks?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How is she? No bullshit.”
<
br />   “Still with us. Fighting.”

  Ace breathed easier. He glanced at Wen. “Ready to take out a chopper?”

  Wen nodded.

  “Scott?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We’ll wait until it’s almost landed. I want to draw Skylar’s group onto the helipad. When I start firing at the tail rotor, you both will fire at the pilot in the cockpit. I’ll try to herd Skylar’s group to the port side. Wen will flank them from the rear. You’ll cover all action from above.”

  Wen said, “Understood. My wife. Please. Be careful.”

  “Nothing but. You too. Scott?”

  “Copy. Understood. And ready.”

  “Wen and I are advancing to the helipad. Now.” He glanced at Wen, and said, “Go.”

  As they ran towards the helipad’s bright lights, Ace heard the sound of chopper blades cutting through the dark night. He glanced into the sky; saw the dark outline of the helicopter as it approached Imagine.

  “Three and a half minutes to zero,” Ragno said.

  Ace took off at a run across the helipad.

  “Sir,” Scott said. “Your six o’clock. Three Quans.”

  As Scott warned, Ace spun around, aimed, and squeezed off a few shots. He heard Scott’s gunfire from the Compass Rose, above. Two men went down, as glass rained down from the picture windows that Scott’s gunfire had destroyed. The third Quan, still standing, returned fire in Ace’s direction.

  Ace made it to the edge of the ship. He slid into position, flat on his belly, and semi-protected from Skylar’s group by an equipment box that was built into the deck. He was ready to fire at the third Quan operative, but he didn’t have to. Scott’s gunfire had killed the man.

  “Three minutes to zero,” Ragno said.

  Ace’s view encompassed the full beam of the ship, from port side railing, to port deck, to the walls that framed the interior spa rooms, to the starboard deck, and starboard railing. Wen leaned against the port sidewall, about fifty feet from Ace’s position, rifle hoisted, with a bead on the chopper’s cockpit. The bright lights of the helipad indicated that Wen’s eyes were on Ace, waiting for the signal to fire.