Joe received a shock when he opened it. Inside lay the chip from the laptop. His heart sank visibly.
‘You see, Professor, lying to me is pointless,’ Scorpio said smugly, ‘and all that time you thought I didn’t know. I hope now that we have an understanding?’
Joe looked at him feeling sick. ‘Yes,’ he said croakily, realizing the danger the world now faced. He knew he had no choice but to help this madman, but he was going to make sure he delayed as long as he could in the hope of rescue.
One thing he refused to do would be to set the device’s auto-destruct sequence. Such an action would surely mean the death of Jack and Allie.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
At the water’s edge, twelve men in black attire, abseiling harnesses, and body armor, sat waiting around three inflatables that were to take the teams to the cargo vessel under cover of darkness. The plan was to arrive just before daybreak. Curly had a deck of cards and dealt by the red glow of his torchlight to the three colleagues on his team.
Curly sighed. ‘The worst part is the waiting.’
‘Will you stop complaining? You’re worse than my grandmother,’ Roberts chided.
‘Well come, on think about it. How much time is wasted just sitting around?’
Roberts stared at him. ‘How many times do we have to go through this?’
‘You should have stayed on the farm,’ Watts sniggered.
‘The pay was better.’
Watts held his cards to his mouth. ‘Breaker...breaker. Cow juice ready for collection. All roads secure. Over and out.’
Curly thumped him.
‘Are you gonna play or what?’ Roberts said with his arms crossed in mock agitation.
‘Yeah, yeah, hold your horses. Can’t have a decent grumble with you lot around.’
‘Complaining again are we Curly?’ a voice behind him growled. ‘I think we’ll have to cut out that tongue of yours.’ Foster winked to the others.
‘Yeah okay; very funny boss.’
‘Right you slobs.’ Foster raised his voice slightly, so all twelve could hear. ‘We have the go. Time to move out. Remain in radio contact at all times. I’ll be monitoring from the Forward Operating Base.’
Curly stood up, knocking the makeshift card table over to the groans of everyone around him. ‘The mission: One; infiltrate the cargo vessel. That’s Alpha to you and me. Two; ascertain if the Simpson family, the ‘X-rays’, are still aboard, and rescue them by any means. Secondary action is to plant a tracking device somewhere on the ship so that we can track its movements. Do not engage any hostile ‘Yankees’ unless provoked, and certainly not Yankee One, Scorpio. I’m sure you all remember what he looks like. However, if we have a complete compromise, just get a GPS tracker on the helicopter we know they have. This is most likely Yankee One’s escape vehicle. Satellite imaging provided that little gem. There is a heavily armed compliment aboard Alpha, an estimated forty-five Yankees. We understand, however, that only a superficial guard will be patrolling. I hope that the rest will be sleeping like babies. If we’re compromised, we’ll have backup from the Navy who will cover our asses should we mess up. However, they won’t be able to get to us for a few minutes. Once we have cut power to the ship, we conduct a room-to-room search, if need be subduing any Yankees quietly. After locating the hostages, exfiltrate them by your designated route.’ Curly repeated the mission briefing. ‘Any Questions?’
‘Yeah, why don’t we just pump gas in there? Knock them all out while they’re sleeping?’ a voice at the rear of the group asked.
‘Well that was one idea the bosses bandied around, but it was deemed too risky; too slow. We are to rescue the X-rays and track Yankee One to his base and capture him there. We have free-reign, but it has been stressed that we create as little collateral damage as possible,’ Foster offered.
‘Gotcha.’
‘Okay, check kit, you have one hour,’ Curly ordered.
Each man spent time checking his weapon was functioning and was securely strapped to his body, and that there was nothing loose that would create sound. All equipment was checked, and double-checked until finally, two men from each team pushed the inflatables further into the water and climbed in to join the others.
It took a matter of minutes for the inflatables to skirt the harbor. No one said a word as they paddled, each man concentrating on their particular job. Except for the occasional splash of an oar, they moved on in silence. All of them would have to scale the ship by use of grappling equipment, but this could only be achieved when the patrolling guards where on the opposite side of the vessel. Secure radio communication from the Navy was invaluable here. Via night vision equipment that trained on the deck, they would cue the teams for a go.
In almost complete darkness, the inflatables gently bumped against the side of the ship. One man from each team was poised with grappling hooks in hand, ready to throw on command. Seconds ticked by until finally the command was given.
‘Hook team; you are a go.’
On cue, three rubber coated hooks were swung and thrown high to catch on the guardrail surrounding the main deck. Hardly a sound was generated, except the swish of rope and the soft thump as the rubber made contact. With a swift tug, each hook man confirmed they had a solid grip.
‘Team two, you are a go.’
The first team to climb began their ascent, hand over hand, while the hook men held the rope taught. Upon reaching the top, they would initiate their night viewing goggles and cover the ascent of the others. Team three would lower rope ladders over the side for quick evacuation. The hook team would bring up the rear while covering the ascent of the teams from below. Each man had his individual abseiling harness and rope, ready to deploy, to gain access to the cargo hold if none of the identified safe routes could be used.
Team two fanned out, their profiles low behind wooden crates scattered across the deck. Their weapons glinted slightly in the pale shipboard lighting. Team three hadn’t reached the top when the call went out.
‘Hold, Hold, Hold, two Yankees on approach.’ They knew it meant a patrol was in the vicinity, temporarily out of sight. The team on deck sank lower behind crates as footsteps approached. Voices were heard getting louder.
‘I will be glad to get off this ship and visit my family.’
‘Hah! You volunteer to visit your family; are you mad?’
‘Well, yes maybe you are right.’ A voice laughed, heavily accented.
‘There is one thing; I want to visit San -’
The voices faded.
‘All clear. Go, go, go,’ the comms chirped.
After a few minutes, all teams were aboard and quickly began to organize themselves, each making careful headway to their predefined areas of entry. Curly took the lead, skirting the massive cargo bay doors that were open. Through his night vision equipment, he could see the helicopter far below.
‘Team One,’ he whispered, ‘our point of entry is the dark area between those two containers.’ He pointed behind him. ‘Let’s go.’
The team moved swiftly and quietly, observing their arcs, checking for movement on all sides. Taking a look to port, Curly saw the Navy Destroyer slowly making its way towards the harbor entrance in a bid to cut off any small craft that tried to escape the area. He gave a little smile.
Upon reaching the entry area, each man began to fasten lines to the containers, parked close to the edge of the precipitous cargo bay.
‘One, this is Two. In position.’
Curly gave two clicks on his radio to signal he had received and understood the message. The other team had successfully gained entry to the lower decks and would begin a room-by-room search, probably the most difficult and potentially dangerous part of the mission. The risk of being encountered by hostiles was overwhelming.
Curly and the team once again retreated to the shadows of the containers as guards approached, taking a position at the edge of the cargo bay after the threat had passed.
‘One, this is Three. In position.’
Major Foster was listening in at the Forward Operating Base aboard the Navy Destroyer. His voice sounded clear and static free. ‘One. I have control. I say again I have control. On your command, you are cleared for a go.’
Curly moved his hand to his neck and activated his throat mic. ‘Roger. All teams go, go, go.’
Almost instantly, Curly received replies in the form of clicks. Now all teams, with precise choreography, would reach their designated areas and begin performing the tasks they had been assigned, searching and cutting power being the primary objectives. Curly nodded to his team who immediately stepped into place above the bay doors, clambered into position and lowered themselves slowly down. Their harnesses strained under the weight as they almost silently abseiled the wall. Halfway down, a magazine slipped from Curly’s leg strap and crashed on the floor with a metallic ring.
‘Damn!’ he cursed.
Almost immediately, lights burst on in the cargo bay, blinding the team.
Gunfire erupted from below.
‘One is compromised. All teams report,’ Curly demanded as he tried to stop himself swinging and aim his weapon at quickly amassing Yankees.
A breathless voice apparently on the move rattled in his earpiece. ‘We hear it, get the GPS tracker on site; we’re making our way to you now. We’re aborting the rescue.’
And that was the last thing Curly heard.
As his body hung limply, swinging in mid air to the sound of gunfire, the other three threw caution to the wind and hurtled down the ropes at speed.
Watts almost reached the bottom when his karabiner snagged. He was a sitting duck.
‘Cover me! I’m caught!’
But it was too late. More Yankees had piled into the cargo bay and began laying down fire.
As the gunfire continued, the rhythmic plopping of blood that splashed the deck from two prone bodies above, went unnoticed.
The sirens sounded, blaring ominously, causing Jack to wince as it penetrated his ears. Scorpio marched to a radio attached to the wooden wall of the boardroom. ‘What’s happening?’ he demanded.
‘Special Forces, Sir!’
Scorpio thought for a moment before continuing. ‘Prepare the helicopter; we are leaving now.’
‘Yes, Sir!’
Scorpio turned to his bodyguards. ‘Get them down to the helipad immediately.’ Four bodyguards responded without a word as they grabbed the captives roughly and thrust them ahead. Natalie followed behind.
‘Not so hard,’ Allie pleaded, ‘we’re moving aren’t we?’
The leading guard gave a snort of laughter and pushed her hard between the shoulder blades, bringing tears to her eyes.
Jack’s face contorted with anger, but he knew no good would come from challenging these men.
They were led down six flights of stairs amid armed men running back and forth, stumbling in the half-light. In the distance, they could hear a firefight, and explosions growing louder and closer, rocking the ship.
Electric light burst through the cargo bay doors as they opened onto the helipad. Within the loading dock, the light beamed down on a pitched gun battle. Men in black fought against Scorpio’s men who crouched behind anything they could, as round after round ricocheted from the bulkhead. Two men dangled a few feet from the floor, still attached to their abseiling ropes, their bodies limp.
Bright flashes followed by a loud bang erupted on the right, disorientating everyone in the vicinity.
‘Everyone, run, or you’ll die,’ the lead bodyguard ordered. That was the last thing he said as a cargo box toppled and hit him squarely on the head. He sank to the floor like a sack of potatoes, his eyes unfocused.
Jack heard a voice burst through the noise and confusion. ‘Visual on the X-rays; watch your fire!’
‘We’re never gonna get them like this.’
‘I have an idea. You two, on me.’
Jack looked for the source and saw three masked men in black attempt to make their way towards him. One man took a round to the left shoulder, and yet with incredible calmness, he picked himself up from the floor, crouched down behind a wooden crate, drew a pistol from his thigh holster and continued to fire rounds at Scorpios men, his left arm cradled across his body.
‘Move!’ the remaining guards ordered, and the hostages did as they were told, running left behind a few metal containers, momentarily shielded from the firefight. A bodyguard called two burly men to him. ‘Cover us; we need to get to the chopper.’ The men nodded and sounded off in a language unknown to Jack. More soldiers joined the group: two at the front, and two at the rear. The team moved quickly as they escorted the hostages towards the helicopter.
The men in black closed in, and then from nowhere a black-clad figure leapt from the top of one container, smashing into the rear guards and knocking them flat.
‘Get out of there you idiot!’ he heard someone shout, as the figure lunged for Jack and momentarily held him. Fingers clawed him, and then the soldier was sent crashing to the deck. Karl stood there for a few seconds, smiling, a smoking pistol in his hand.
‘Move it!’ Karl shouted.
The helicopter’s engines were running, the blades rotating at full speed, causing a cloud of dust and debris to fly in all directions. The transport was now surrounded on all sides by groups of Scorpio’s men who were holding off the attacking force with almost constant fire. As they reached the helicopter with hands covering their eyes, the family were manhandled into it quickly. Jack ended up sprawled on the floor of the passenger compartment. Scorpio sat huddled at the rear. ‘Go!’ he yelled.
The helicopter began to lift from the pad slowly, the pilot wary of hitting the sides of the open cargo hold.
‘Move it! Faster!’ Scorpio yelled, the panic clear in his voice.
‘We’re too heavy -’ the pilot began.
‘You!’ Scorpio directed at a bodyguard, ‘Let the girl go.’
Jack was stuck with fear. He knew what was coming and could not control himself as he called out. ‘No, please!’
Karl ignored him as he roughly grabbed Allie by the hair and threw her out of the open door of the helicopter. She fell with a scream, which cut short as she landed on the hard surface of the pad with a thump.
Jack couldn’t see what had happened, and it cut him like a knife. It must have been a seven or eight-meter drop; he knew it could have killed her. He glared at Scorpio.
‘Ha! Young Jack. I see that look in your eyes. This is to be understood. I am not a callous man, but needs must.’ Scorpio’s eyes glazed. ‘My cause is more important than one little girl. Imagine a world controlled by one man. No war, no fighting between countries. This is my ideal, Jack. Surely you understand that?’
‘All I see is a bitter, twisted psychopath who wants money and power!’ Jack spat back at him.
Scorpio’s face contorted for a moment and then lightened as he burst into a great belly laugh. ‘You will be the death of me, Jack.’
Jack had never wished for anything more.
*
The firefight was becoming quieter now as troops began to wane. A figure ran from a doorway and perched himself in half cover at the side of one the containers.
‘Bob, H.E.,’ he shouted.
‘What?’ Bob looked at his colleague.
‘High Explosives. The whole ship’s full of it. Ready to blow!’
‘Tell me you’re joking.’
A shake of the head confirmed it. Bob activated his throat mic.
‘Two to Bravo.’
‘Go ahead Two.’
‘The ship is rigged with H.E., ready to go.’
‘All teams pull out. Get the hell out of there, now!’
‘We have an injured X-ray in sight; it’s the girl.’
‘Grab her and get out of there.’
‘Roger; all teams covering fire.’
Bob and another from his team risked their lives as they raced toward Allie.
Bob grabbed Allie by her ankles and unceremoniously dragg
ed her behind a container, where she was hitched on broad shoulders and carried quickly out of the nearest doorway.
On cue, the remaining men ran to their escape points, occasionally firing behind them at pursuing Yankees.
Reaching the deck, they clambered down makeshift ladders to the awaiting inflatables, each team taking turns to cover the others. As soon as all men had been retrieved and Allie was safe aboard the craft, they sped away under cover of smoke grenades thrown onto the deck of the ship. From the ship came a great cheering; Scorpio’s men believing they had won. Tara smugly raised her weapon and fired into the air.
The celebrations didn’t last long as a massive explosion ripped through the hull of the ship, sending debris, fire and smoke hundreds of meters into the air. The shock wave almost capsized the escaping teams’ inflatables.
Then another explosion, and another, until finally, the ship began to sink slowly into the harbor, taking with it the Yankees that remained. But more importantly, crucial intelligence that could have been gained.
*
‘Absolutely beautiful. Such meticulous timing,’ Scorpio crowed as he watched the fireworks with glee from the window of the escaping helicopter.
Jack cried quietly, unable to shake off the horrific images he had of Allie sinking into the sea.
Joe sat there horrified at the devastation. ‘You m … monster,’ he spat, unable to believe what he had witnessed.
‘Shut up,’ Scorpio ordered, as he pulled a packet of chips from his jacket, opened them, and thrust one into his mouth without a care in the world.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The helicopter flew for close to two hours across the vast ocean. Jack, who still lay on the floor, was stiff and cold. He tried to shift his position, but the heavy boot of Karl thrust him back down.
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