by Ken Goddard
In the time it took Quince Lanyard to empty the first magazine of M109 explosive rounds into the three approaching boats, dodging nearly a hundred. 50-caliber bullets in the process, Gavin had dispatched seven of Kai’s wildly-firing assault team. He was waiting for the last pirate — a grizzled older man with enough common sense to take cover when he saw or heard the effects of Gavin’s first few shots — to make a run for one of the boats when he heard the M109 fire again; and then saw the searchlight from a rapidly approaching Blackhawk helicopter suddenly light up the Avatar.
Gavin cursed as he reached down, grabbed a small rock, and threw it in the approximate location where he thought the last of Kai’s pirates was hiding. He waited until the old man broke away from his hiding place in a desperate run for the water, dropped him with a pair of shots to the chest and head, and then raised the rifle and began firing at the Blackhawk just as the two anti-personnel rounds from Lanyard’s M109 detonated against the left side of the helicopter’s armored windshield.
Not designed to penetrate armored glass, the high-energy metal fragments simply scarred and blackened the Blackhawk’s windshield; shredding and disabling, instead, the unarmored searchlight mounted beneath the transport helicopter’s nose. But the pilots reacted instinctively, and understandably, by wrenching the Blackhawk away from the unexpected flack.
In doing so, they inadvertently exposed the Rangers in the main cabin — many of whom were already standing up, in anticipation of the helicopter’s imminent beach landing — to the incoming bullets from Gavin’s rifle.
Colonel Kulawnit and Major Preithat, intent on being the first Rangers on the beach when they landed at Tanga Island, were standing in the open doorway of the Blackhawk’s main cabin, holding onto safety straps, when the nose of the armored helicopter suddenly veered to the right in response to the M109 projectile explosions. The two men were still trying to regain their balance when the first bullet from Gavin’s rifle ricocheted off the titanium plate in Preithat’s armored vest, staggering him backwards into the arms of another Ranger.
The next four bullets hit Colonel Kulawnit’s Kevlar vest — in the high chest area, just to the right of his protective titanium plate, one bullet slicing in between the thick-meshed panels — and his unprotected left arm, sending him spinning him around and tumbling to the floor of the heaving helicopter next to the dangling body of the port-side crew chief who had been hit in the vest by the sixth bullet and then struck fatally in the throat by the seventh.
“Prathun!”
Gedimin Bulatt saw Kulawnit fall, yelled out as he released his seat harness, and dove for the sprawled body of his Interpol friend, trying to pull him away from the exposed open doorway. At that moment, two more anti-personnel rounds from the M109 payload rifle exploded against the tail rotor of the Blackhawk.
Built to withstand the glancing impacts of. 50-caliber anti-aircraft rounds, the Blackhawk’s tail rotor mechanism was no match for the explosive power of the M109 projectiles. Torn and jarred out of alignment, the tail rotors shuddered and then failed, wrenching the powerful transport helicopter away in an uncontrollable tail spin that flung Bulatt and Kulawnit out the door and tumbling down into the warm waters of the Tanga Island cove.
Gavin was in the reflexive process of reloading his rifle with a full 30-round magazine, his attention fixed on the wildly spinning helicopter as the Blackhawk pilots fought for control, when he realized that Lanyard was yelling in his earphones.
“What?” Gavin said.
“Get your arse down to the beach and into the bloody dinghy, you daft idiot! The Rangers are coming in with Blackhawks and machineguns. We’ve got to get out of here, now!” Lanyard repeated as he set the payload rifle aside, grabbed up his night-vision-scoped M4 carbine, and began scanning the water for more targets.
CHAPTER 15
The first thing Bulatt saw after he thrashed to the surface — coughing and choking, with Kulawnit still grasped tightly in his left arm — pulled the inflation tabs on both of their vests, and then quickly readjusted the night-vision goggles over his eyes, was the Blackhawk helicopter crashing into the water a hundred yards away.
Then he turned and saw one of Kai’s low-riding outboard motorboats drifting in the water halfway between his position and the anchored Avatar with what looked like a pair of lifeless bodies dangling over the side.
After pulling a military bandage out of a pouch on his vest, and then tightening it as best he could around Kulawnit’s badly wounded arm — all the while struggling to keep the unconscious Colonel’s face out of the water — Bulatt quickly pulled off and discarded his armored vest, lifejacket and boots, and then started kicking and stroking the classic one-handed lifeguard tow in the direction of the drifting boat.
He was still a good twenty yards away, gasping for breath as he fought against the weight and drag of Kulawnit’s vest and armaments, when he first heard and then saw a small dinghy motoring out from the beach. As he watched, the small boat made a sharp turn toward the still-anchored fishing yacht whose engines were starting to rumble loudly in the darkness. At that moment, Bulatt saw the familiar outline of the night-vision goggles on the operator’s face, and realized the small boat would pass within twenty yards of his position in the water.
Bulatt’s first thought was to dive under the water, knowing there was little or no chance that he and Kulawnit would remain unseen on the surface. But then he remembered the colonel’s inflated life vest. He was fumbling for the vest’s plastic zipper when his hand brushed against the grip of the 9mm Beretta semiautomatic pistol strapped to Kulawnit’s armored vest.
Bulatt’s thumb was reflexively unsnapping the safety strap holding the pistol in the black nylon holster when Gavin — accelerating the small dinghy in the direction of the Avatar where Lanyard was now working feverishly to raise the anchor — spotted the two figures in the water, and grabbed for his rifle.
Cursing, Bulatt yanked the pistol loose from the holster, momentarily let go of Kulawnit in order to jack a round into the Beretta’s chamber with his left hand, and then began firing at the figure in the bouncing dinghy.
Gavin was still trying to bring his M4 carbine around one-handed, so that he didn’t lose control of the small watercraft, when the first 9mm round streaked past his shoulder and shattered the dinghy’s small transom windshield. The next two struck his armored vest, the high-velocity impacts of the mushrooming rounds staggering him backwards and sideways just in time to save his life.
Instead of hitting Gavin in the head — as Bulatt had been trying very hard to do while fighting against the currents, the swells, and the drag of Kulawnit’s still-unconscious body — the fourth 9mm bullet whipped past his right ear just before the fifth tore a deep gouge across the right side of his head. The last impact sent him bouncing off the dinghy’s rubberized-tube railing and tumbling to the narrow deck, at the same time loosening his one-handed grip on the carbine which spun overboard into the water.
Momentarily stunned, Gavin lay in the bottom of the dinghy until the thumping sounds of two 9mm hollow-point rounds tearing into the transom of the now-wildly-swerving craft’s outboard motor jarred him into action. Keeping his head as low as possible, he reached up, grabbed the steering wheel, and quickly accelerated the small boat toward the now-moving Avatar; realizing as he did so that a second Forestry Division patrol boat was rapidly approaching the distant spot where the Blackhawk had crashed, its searchlights sweeping across the water.
Moments later, Gavin came alongside the now-slowly-moving Avatar, cut his engine, scrambled aboard the fishing yacht, quickly tied the dinghy’s bow line to the Avatar’s stern rail, and then scrambled across the lower deck and up the ladder to the bridge, holding his hand tight against his head wound. “Bloody hell, Quince,” Gavin yelled as he came up onto the bridge, “can’t we go any — ?”
Then he froze in disbelief when his night-vision-aided eyes took in the degree of carnage. “Christ Almighty! What’d that Kai bastard do, lob a bom
b up here?”
“Might as well have.” Lanyard was at the helm of the Avatar, monitoring gauges and fighting against controls that were no longer responding properly. He glanced back at Gavin and saw the blood covering the right side of his long-time-partner’s face. “You okay?”
“Bloody splitting headache,” Gavin growled as he fumbled around in a wall-mounted first aid kit for a compress bandage that he pressed against his cheek. “You get Kai?”
“Shredded him into fish food with the one-oh-nine,” Lanyard responded. “What happened to you? Somebody get off a lucky one?”
“Lucky, my arse. Some bloke in the water who was trying to keep his mate afloat double-tapped my vest plate with a couple of nine-mils, and then nearly did the same thing with my noggin.”
“You get him?”
“No, lost my carbine overboard when I got hit. He’s still out there somewhere by that drifting outboard. Better keep any eye out if he gets that boat going; that lad’s a bloody good shot.”
Lanyard glanced back where Gavin was pointing and smiled.
“No worries, your bloke won’t be going anywhere in that boat unless he brought along a spare engine. Here, take the helm and try to maintain this heading. The rudder’s not responding, so you’re going to have to work the throttles to make any course changes,” Lanyard explained, and then proceeded to use the contents of the first-aid kit to clean, sterilize and bandage the relatively superficial but freely bleeding wound as the Avatar surged back and forth on her erratic course away from the islands.
“Thanks, mate,” Gavin said when Lanyard was done, gratefully giving up what little control he had over the struggling yacht. “How bad are we shot up?”
“Both engines are still running, and there’s no compartment fuel leaks as far as I can tell, which is pretty bloody amazing given the number of fifty-cal rounds Kai punched through her guts. But we’re losing fuel steadily from one of the main tanks, and the starboard shaft starts vibrating at anything over half-speed. Which wouldn’t be too bad, all things considered, but our controls are shot to bloody hell and we’re taking on water faster than the pumps can spit it out,” Lanyard added. “How’s the dinghy?”
“Hull and rail tubes are still intact. Took a couple of rounds in the transom and engine cowling, but I don’t think anything vital got hit. Why?”
“We may need it. Wallis is heading our way with a seaplane, but I told him we’d try to get clear of these islands and into Malaysian air space first.”
“What are we talking about, in terms of distance?” Gavin asked, trying to ignore the growing distress in his stomach.
“Maybe fifteen nautical miles, give or take, assuming the rescue crews don’t spot us — which they shouldn’t in all this fog — and we can hold a steady course.”
Gavin looked around at the choppy water that was now causing the Avatar to surge up and down as well as back and forth back as Lanyard tried to keep her on course. “Fifteen miles? In a bloody twelve-foot dinghy? Are you mad? We’ll be lucky if we make a half-mile before we’re swamped.”
“May not have to find out how lucky we are if we can baby the engines on this gal and keep her afloat for another — ”
A red light began flashing on the control panel.
“Oh bloody hell, we just lost another pump. Only the two back-ups operating now, and they sound like they’re on their last legs,” Lanyard muttered as he watched the gauges for a few more seconds, and then sighed. “Well, Jack me lad, it looks like it’s going to be the dinghy or a long swim. No way in creation we’re going to get this gal into Malaysian waters before the water starts washing over her bow. And I don’t really fancy the idea of swimming alongside a bloke who’s leaving a chum trail for the sharks to follow.”
Holding onto a rail for balance, Gavin looked back at the rescue patrol boat lights — now only glowing pinpoints in the fog that hovered over the dark choppy water — and the erratic wake being produced by the struggling yacht.
“Okay, the dinghy it is, as long as we bring along a couple of buckets for bailing,” Gavin agreed reluctantly. “I don’t fancy being in that water at night either, bleeding or not; and I’ll be damned if we’re going to be the reason Wallis has to fly into Thai air space. Piss him off right proper, we would, if we got him shot down by the bloody Thai Air Force.”
“Yeah, he’s got enough to be pissed about already,” Lanyard agreed.
“You mean the Avatar?” Gavin looked around the shattered bridge. “Come on, mate, she’s a good old broad, but no great loss. He was going to leave her to Kai anyway.”
“No, I mean that,” Lanyard said, pointing to a dark-stained burlap bag lying on the deck in the far stern corner of the bridge that looked like it might contain the better part of a freshly-killed chicken.
“And that is?”
“You do remember the Clouded Leopard carcass we stashed in the fish freezer, where we figured it was going to be safe?
“I do. What about it?” Gavin stared at the stained and lumpy bag with a growing sense of foreboding.
“Thanks to that bastard Kai, and his bloody big fifty, that’s all we’ve got left — of the big bits, anyway.”
CHAPTER 16
Off Tanga Island Cove
It had taken the better part of Bulatt’s remaining strength to tow Colonel Kulawnit over to the low-lying outboard, pull the two lifeless and shattered bodies of Kai’s men into the water, and then shove the unconscious colonel up and into the boat.
He was in the process of pulling himself in, holding onto the splintered railing and trying not to swamp the low-riding boat, when he felt the pressure wave of something big coming fast beneath the boat.
“Shit!” Bulatt cursed reflexively even as his survival instincts found new reserves of energy to help him twist, yank and propel himself up and into the boat just as a huge tiger shark struck at the nearest of the floating bodies a few inches from his flailing feet. The impact of the thick dorsal fin — and then the massive thrashing tail — against the boat’s keel jarred it sideways, forcing Bulatt to grab desperately at the opposite railing to keep himself and Kulawnit from being tossed back into the water.
For a few seconds, the water around the boat churned madly as a second and third shark fought over the carcasses. Then, finally, the water surface grew relatively still, allowing Bulatt to release his grip on the railing and Kulawnit, catch his breath, re-adjust his night-vision goggles, and then examine the colonel’s wounds.
Finally convinced that he’d gotten most of the bleeding stopped with the bandage from Kulawnit’s vest pouch, Bulatt rose up on his knees, trying not to rock the shallow-beamed boat any more than necessary, then waved and yelled — to no avail — at the patrol rescue boat that was some hundred yards and barely visible in the growing fog as the crew continued to search for Rangers from the crashed Blackhawk.
Got to get over there before they decide to take off and leave us here, Bulatt thought grimly as he looked around for something he could use as a paddle. To his dismay, the only thing he could find was a torn and jagged piece of the outboard engine cowling that was roughly nine inches square.
After staring out at the deceptively calm dark water for a few moments, Bulatt crawled over to Kulawnit, pulled the 9mm pistol out of his vest holster again, loaded a fresh magazine, aimed it upward, started to pull the trigger, and then hesitated.
No, better not, he told himself. They see gunfire coming from one of these outboards, they’ll probably fire back with everything they’ve got, including the deck gun, and then come over to scoop up the pieces.
Sighing in resignation, Bulatt picked up the torn piece of aluminum cowling by the one non-jagged edge with his left hand, adjusted his grip on the pistol, cautiously moved forward to the bow of the low-riding boat, leaned forward so that his chest and right arm were braced against the bow railing, hesitated, dug his left hand deep into the water in a single hard stroke, and then quickly pulled his hand out of the water.
The boat mo
ved slightly forward and to the left.
That’s right, gotta use a ‘J’ stroke, just like they taught us at the training center, or I’m going to be going around in a big circle.
Steeling himself, Bulatt dug the piece of cowling deep into the water again, only this time in a ‘J’ stroke pattern, and saw with satisfaction that the outboard was now drifting more-or-less in the direction of the distant patrol boat lights.
Okay, just another fifty or sixty strokes. No problem.
Bulatt started to dig his hand deep into the water a third time when he felt the pressure wave suddenly surge up against the piece of cowling and barely managed to pull his hand away when the massive head of the huge tiger shark came lunging up out of the water beneath his fingers, the powerful jaws snapping at empty air. An instant later, the underside of the shark’s huge head crashed down on the boat’s already splintered railing, propelling Bulatt’s head forward and into the shark’s blunt sandpaper-like nose.
The night-vision goggles absorbed most of the impact, the lens scraping against the rasp-like skin as the goggles were ripped away from Bulatt’s face. Blinded now in the almost total darkness, he desperately shoved himself away from the thrashing shark’s head and snapping jaws; and then felt the recoil of the Beretta — and heard the concussive gunshots — before he even realized he was shooting.
The 9mm hollow-points ripped into the nose and gaping mouth of the fearsome-looking beast; its nightmarish black eye and glistening teeth intermittently visualized by the blinding gun-flashes.
Then, suddenly, the upper torso of the huge shark was completely visible — bathed in a brilliant overhead light — as it whipped its head away from the bullet impacts, jarring and nearly swamping the boat again, and then swung back in an instinctive and unrelenting attempt to reach its human prey.