The Butcher's Bill (The Linus Schag, NCIS, Thrillers Book 2)

by Martin Roy Hill

  Before Black's men could respond, a thunderclap exploded within the bridge, and lightning stabbed through the dark. The flash-bang grenade left the three men on the bridge stunned, deaf, and blind.

  ☼

  Schag squatted against the outside bulkhead of the bridge, eyes squeezed tight and hands still clamped over his ears. His right hand ached from holding the safety handle of the flash-bang for so long, waiting for the right moment to toss the device. The instant he saw Yolanda break free from the man holding her, he had tossed the grenade.

  Even with his ears covered and his eyes closed, he could hear the thunder and sense the stab of lightning. When it finished, he rose and ran the way he had come. He turned the corner and saw Bill and Yolanda disappear down the stairs. Heading toward the same stairs, he noticed the rectangular box of a closed-circuit camera aimed at the starboard ladder and realized that was how Gideon knew they were aboard.

  Butcher and Yolanda reached the first deck below the bridge just as one of Gideon's mercs stepped out of the deckhouse. Butcher pulled his wife behind him, covering her with his body, and raising the AK to fire. He wasn't fast enough. The mercenary's rifle was already pointing at them. Before the Gideon man could pull the trigger, three blasts roared from above and behind the Butchers. The rounds slammed the gunman into the bulkhead. Butcher glanced behind him. Schag stood above him, still in a firing stance, the Glock trained on the crumpled body of the mercenary.

  "They'll be waiting for us on the next deck," Schag said, leaping over Bill and Yolanda, and checking the merc for signs of life. There were none. "This way. Hurry!"

  He led them inside, toward an inner stairwell that ran the entire height and depth of the ship. Unlike the metal ladders on the exterior of the ship, these looked more like the fire escape stairwell found in a hotel—wider, more solidly built, and bordered by shining chrome handrails. As Schag started down the stairs, he heard the clatter of men climbing from below. The agent backtracked, directing Yolanda and Butcher to follow the interior passage to the portside door. Butcher made a quick glance out the door to ensure no one was on that side of the ship, then slipped out, Yolanda and Schag following.

  "How many of them are there?" Schag asked Yolanda.

  "I don't know for sure," she said. "Six, seven. Maybe eight, including that bastard Black."

  "Did you see how she handled that guy on the bridge?" Butcher asked, looking at his wife fondly. "That's my girl." He kissed her on the cheek. She turned and kissed him full on the mouth.

  Schag watched two men run out of the stairwell and out the starboard door. Despite their battered faces, Schag recognized them as the two men who ambushed Parker and him at the cemetery. They glanced at their dead comrade and hurried down the outside ladder.

  "Come on," he whispered. "Fight now, fornicate later."

  He led them back into the deckhouse and down the interior stairs. At the next landing, he saw a merc waiting on the starboard weather deck. He motioned the Butchers down one more deck. Butcher, in the lead, peeked around the corner and saw two more two mercs on that landing, too. They looked worse for the wear, one with a bloody nose, the other with a swollen black eye.

  "More out there," he whispered.

  "This is the main deck," Schag said. "We need to get to the starboard gangway to the boat. Below us are the machinery spaces. We need to go out here or go back up and try from there. Maybe go down the port side and cross over to starboard to the gangway."

  The decision was made for them. Voices of the mercenaries in the starboard air castle became louder, moving inside the superstructure toward them.

  "Up!" urged Butcher, pushing Yolanda and Schag up the stairs they had just come down.

  They hadn't taken three steps when they heard boots pounding down the stairs from above.

  "Down!" urged Schag, nearly knocking over Yolanda and Butcher. "Go down!"

  As if to emphasize the point, one of the gunmen above fired a round down the stairs. It ricocheted down the stairwell in front of them, like a ball in a pinball machine. Schag, trailing the Butchers, fired blindly at their pursuers. It, too, ricocheted off the metal walls. This time, however, Schag heard a satisfying yelp of pain from someone above.

  More boots joined the pursuit above them, and someone let go with a short burst of automatic fire. A few rounds punched holes in the thin steel walls but most, striking at acute angles, skipped away, showering Schag and the others with stinging chips of paint.

  Like the other landings, the next one opened into a long passageway extending the width of the superstructure. Butcher tried to open a door opposite the landing, but Schag yanked him back and pointed to a sign representing fire, explosion, and asphyxiation hazards beyond the door. The door led to the pump room, which housed all the pumps used for loading and unloading the cargo tanks. Schag had investigated the accidental death of a merchant sailor who had died aboard a fleet oiler when he entered the pump room without taking the proper precautions. The volatile fumes accumulated in the pump room had instantly asphyxiated the seaman. "We was lucky," a gruff chief engineer told Schag at the time. "A spark from opening that door could've set off those fumes and blown us sky high."

  Schag led them down the next stairway into another long passageway. There were unmarked doors along each side of the passage. One was grimier than the other doors.

  "This way," he said, opening the door.

  It opened into a changing room. Jump suits of varying colors hung in open cabinets. On top of the cabinets sat safety helmets. Schag opened a heavy watertight door, and the room flooded with the roar, warmth, and stench of machinery. Stairs angled steeply into the bowels of the ship. Bill and Yolanda clambered down the rungs. At the bottom was a cavernous compartment filled with machinery of such monolithic proportions it made Bill and Yolanda feel like Lilliputians.

  There were no decks among these mechanical behemoths. Catwalks meandered among them, like fragile trails winding around precipitous metallic peaks. In some places, half decks hung from the bulkhead like cliffs, reached by more catwalks and ladders. On one of those landings was the control room. A large window spanning the width of the ship revealed a bank of green, high-voltage control panels stretching as wide as the window. In front of the electrical switchboard sat a control station as wide as the power panels. Colorful lights from a multitude of digital read-out displays reflected off the green paint of the control room.

  Schag closed and dogged the door behind them, then bounded down the stairs, using his hands to slide past several steps at a time as he would on the Halsey. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Butcher turned and said something. Schag cuffed his ear, showing he couldn't hear.

  "Where are we?" Butcher asked, stepping closer to Schag and leaning in toward his ear.

  "Main engineering," Schag said.

  Yolanda had her hands clamped over her ears, trying to muffle the noise. Butcher was rubbing his own ears.

  "This noise is deafening," he said.

  "It'd be a lot worse if we were underway and that main engine was running." Schag pointed to the main engine, which towered three decks above them.

  "They only have a generator or two running at this point to keep the power on."

  "Where do we go now?" Butcher asked.

  Schag shook his head.

  "Nowhere," he answered. "This is as far as we can go."

  CHAPTER 29

  SATURDAY

  Aboard the Mars Venture

  Anchored off the San Diego coast.

  0510 Hours

  AIDAN BLACK PALMED HIS EYES, trying to rub away the searing light trapped beneath his lids. The ringing in his ears stabbed deep into his brain, leaving his wits dulled. He forced his eyes open and waited for the sun-like orb to eclipse and fade, leaving him in the darkness of the bridge. He spotted Jürgen on the deck, sitting up, shaking his head, and blinking his eyes with exaggerated motions, as if that would make the vestige of the flash-bang go away. Meier was on all fours, groaning and cursing.r />
  Black pulled himself onto one of the bridge chairs, still trying to think through the constant ringing in his ears. He looked at the video screen Meier had shown him earlier, with the displays from multiple closed-circuit deck cameras. One view showed the backs of three figures descending the stairs from the bridge to the deck below. He turned, looking for Jürgen, who was standing next to him, leaning against the console, still dazed but watching the video screen, too.

  "Give me your handheld," Black ordered. Jürgen handed it to him, and Black thumbed push-to-talk button. "The prisoners are heading for the deck below the bridge! Everyone there, now!" He turned to Jürgen and Meier. Both had gotten to their feet, but still needed to steady themselves against the console. "You two. Go!"

  Jürgen pulled his pistol and Meier recovered his AK, and both rushed from the bridge. Black pulled a Sig Sauer P238 from the back of his belt—a replacement for the Beretta he tossed into the bay—but stayed at the console watching the video display. He saw Butcher and the woman running down the stairs until stopped by one of his men. Before Black could direct more men to assist the gunman, he saw the mercenary thrown back by multiple gunshots. Then he saw Schag come into view and lead the Butchers back inside the deckhouse.

  "The inside stairs," he yelled into the radio. "They're going down the inside stairs!"

  Black continued watching the video screen, but there were no cameras on the inside of the superstructure and the displays remained empty. With a final curse, he slammed his hand onto the console, turned, and followed his men down the stairs.

  ☼

  Jürgen and Meier pounded down the stairwell, almost colliding with Gott and Kasitz rushing into the well from the outside. Meier leaned his AK over the stair railing and fired a burst. A moment later, a single pistol round answered the burst. It bounced off the metal bulkhead two or three times until it slammed into Meier's shoulder. The mercenary stumbled backwards with a shout of pain, dropped his rifle, and collapsed on the stairs. Jürgen leaped over Meier, picked up the dropped AK, and threw himself onto the next set of stairs, firing a sustained burst to clear the stairwell ahead. Gott and Kasitz followed close behind.

  ☼

  Black paused and crouched as he heard the firing below. The angry whine of ricochets echoed through the stair well. When it became quiet again, he went on, taking two steps at a time. He found Meier on the stairs below, bleeding heavily from a shoulder wound. Black didn't stop to help him either. He stepped over the man and moved on. At the next landing, he found Jürgen, Gott, and Kasitz. A fourth and final member of their team, a former bounty hunter named Paudert, had joined them. They were standing in front of the pump room door, weapons at the ready, preparing to enter the room.

  "Stand down!" Black ordered. The men looked at him. Black pointed to the warning signs. "Can't any of you read? You need protective equipment to go in there." He jabbed his Sig Sauer at the next flight of stairs. "They had to keep going down! Hurry!"

  Jürgen motioned the three mercenaries down the stairs and followed with his rifle shouldered. Black went last. They moved more cautiously, wary of an ambush at the next and final landing. There was none. They spread out along the passageway, trying doorknobs until Gott opened the door leading to the changing room. They entered one at a time, weapons raised, and scanned each corner until Jürgen hollered, "Clear!"

  Black entered, his eyes quickly sweeping the room. They landed at the watertight door, and he nodded at it. Jürgen tugged on the handle and realized door was dogged shut. He motioned to Paudert, who took position to the side of the door and waited, weapon ready, as the German turned each dogging lever one by one.

  ☼

  "What do you mean this is as far as we can go?" Butcher demanded.

  "This is pretty much the bottom of the ship," Schag said. He pointed to what appeared to be a catwalk leading from the giant main engine to toward the stern. Beneath the steel grating, the Butchers could see a metal shaft at least two-feet in diameter. "That's the propeller shaft. Past this, it's only the bilges and the ocean."

  "You!" a voice hollered with a distinctive Asian accent.

  The trio turned, Schag and Butcher raising their weapons. They found a middle-aged Filipino in a blue jump suit and white safety helmet. The two guns aimed at him did little to tame the anger on his face or in his voice.

  "You not supposed to be down here," he said. "You people supposed to stay up there." He pointed upwards with a large wrench his right hand. "And I stay down here. That's agreed. Remember?"

  Schag realized the man must be a member of the merchant crew, not one of Gideon's mercenaries. He pulled his ID wallet and flashed his badge.

  "Federal agent," Schag said. "Who are you?"

  The Filipino looked at the badge, confused. He lowered the wrench and said, "I am Chief Engineer Ocampo."

  "What are you doing here?" Schag demanded.

  "The captain got orders to anchor here," Ocampo said. "We had to say my engine needed repairs." He pointed the wrench at the gargantuan diesel in the middle of the compartment. "Engine works good. I keep it that way."

  Schag nodded, and prodded the man on.

  "I was left on board to be the live watch. But those men up there tell me to stay down here. They even take my cabin and make me sleep in the engineering cadet's quarters."

  "Is there another way out of here?" Butcher asked.

  Ocampo nodded, pointing with his wrench to a ladder climbing from the engine room's main deck straight up the bulkhead. A few feet above the deck, a semicircular metal tube enveloped the ladder and continued up the bulkhead until ended in a watertight scuttle.

  "Escape ladder," Ocampo said. "Leads to main deck."

  Butcher took Yolanda's hand and led her toward the ladder, Schag following close behind.

  Schag heard a familiar scraping sound from above them and whirled around, pistol raised toward the watertight door at the top of the stairs. One of the dogging levers turned. Butcher swung his rifle in the same direction and, pulling Yolanda with him, moved into better cover. Schag did the same with Ocampo.

  "No guns! No guns!" The engineer insisted. "Too many fuel lines in here. Start big fire." He pointed up toward the pump room. "Pump room ventilation fans not working. Fire down here, go up there and boom!" His hands mimicked an explosion.

  "It's not up to us, chief," Schag said. He pointed to the stairs. "Bad men up there. Better stay down."

  Schag adjusted his position and leveled his pistol at the door. One by one, he watched the dogging levers turn. Then the heavy metal door groaned open.

  CHAPTER 30

  SATURDAY

  Aboard the Mars Venture

  Anchored off the San Diego coast.

  0525 Hours

  "MR. BUTCHER! AGENT SCHAG!" AIDAN Black's voice rose over the ambient noise of machinery. "We don’t have to do this. There's no reason for more violence. I'm a businessman. I just want to make a deal."

  Black waited for a response. He knew there was nowhere else for the three to run. Even as little as he knew about ships, he understood the engine room was as far down as someone could go. The only way they could go was up, and to do that they would have to get past his men. A little psychology might bring them up without more shooting. Therefore, he waited for their reply.

  None came.

  ☼

  Hunkered down behind the machinery, Schag looked around trying to figure out a plan. He spied the escape ladder again, and called to Bill Butcher.

  "Bill, you and Yolanda go for the ladder. I'll cover you." Schag nodded at the ship's chief engineer. "Take the chief here with you."

  Every fiber in Butcher's body rebelled against leaving the fight, not to mention leaving behind his friend. He looked at Yolanda. Her dark eyes were wide with fear. Her mascara ran with tears. He took a deep breath, and nodded.

  "Okay, take this," he said, sliding the AK over.

  Schag picked up the rifle and checked the action. Bill tossed Schag the extra magazines, and the age
nt stuffed them into the pockets of his vest. Schag patted Ocampo on the shoulder. "Go with them, chief."

  The engineer shook his head. "No, I stay. This is my ship. I'm responsible for her."

  "Chief, any second now those men will come down here with machine guns," Schag said. "They won’t differentiate between us and you. Besides . . ." He nodded toward Bill and Yolanda. "They need you to guide them out."

  "Come on now, people." Black's voice rose again over the machinery. "We don't have much time. I know you have nowhere else to run. So, let's be grown up and talk this over."

  Ocampo looked at Schag and nodded. Schag patted the engineer on the shoulder again and sent him scurrying over to the Butchers. Bill had him squat on his far side, nearer to the escape ladder. He turned back to Schag.

  "I'll get them going up the ladder, but I'm not going up until you join us," he said.

  Schag nodded and said, "Get going."

  ☼

  Black looked at his Rolex Submariner for the fifth time in the past minute and a half. He was losing patience. He leaned toward the hatch again.

  "Come, come, Mrs. Butcher," he called down. "Surely you want this all to end well. You have your children to go home to. Talk some sense to your husband and Agent Schag, and whomever that bearded man is. All of us want to go home tonight, don't we?"

  Black glanced at Jürgen. The German mercenary was growing even more impatient than Black.