by Rob Sangster
“I’ll have a better idea after I talk with Heinz.”
Gano’s mouth tightened, which meant he knew the plan was still very fuzzy.
When Drake returned, Lou was right behind him. “Tell him,” Drake said.
“Palinouros received orders yesterday. Her present location is about twenty-five nautical miles east of here. Her communications guy sent someone to find the captain for you.”
About damn time the dice rolled in my favor.
“How can we get from Challenger onto Palinouros?” he asked Drake.
“Ship-to-ship transfer using a high line is possible,” Drake said, “but it’s slow and dangerous. Besides, the platform will be using its Vessel Identification System, VIS, to track both our ships. If they see the ships come together—well, that would be bad.”
“Could the helo fly us over there?” Jack asked.
“That ore carrier doesn’t have a landing platform,” Drake said.
“I hate to mention this,” Gano said, “because it’s so high on my list of things I don’t want to do, but we could rig a sling to lower the two of us from the helo to the deck.”
Jack knew he could handle being delivered by sling. What made his mouth dry as ashes was what would happen if they made it aboard Chaos.
“That’s risky,” Drake said, “but it could work. And make that for the three of us. The helo can’t leave my ship without help from my crew, so that’s non-negotiable.”
“Make that four,” Molly said firmly. “I know a lot of men on the platform. You need help from them, so you need me. And,” she said, looking at Drake, “before you say something sexist, I can more than carry my own weight.”
Jack didn’t want Drake along, because his hatred of Barbas was too intense. Somehow it would backfire against them all. And he didn’t want Molly either, but death might rain from the sky on Challenger any minute, so that was a toss-up. He nodded his okay.
“I’ll check out what kind of gear the helo has,” Gano said.
He was back in a couple of minutes. “That thing is the pedi-cab of helicopters. It has no winch to raise or lower anything, but it does have a rope ladder. Climbing down it onto a pitching deck means at least one of us is likely to break a leg or worse. Still up for it?”
No one answered.
“Will the chopper pilot cooperate?” Molly asked.
“I’ll tell him we’re landing on a platform that’s bigger than an aircraft carrier,” Gano said. “If I have to put a gun to his temple at the end, he will drop us off on Palinouros.”
Lou stuck his head in the cabin. “Captain of Palinouros on the line.”
“On speaker,” Drake said.
“Heinz, it’s Jack Strider here, along with Molly, Gano, and Captain Steve Drake. We’re on a ship less than twenty-five miles west of you.”
Long pause. “That’s great. When I got orders to leave early, I tried to find you. I delayed leaving as long as I could, hoping you’d show up.”
He’d been worried Heinz might have decided to back out, realizing that this would be more dangerous for him than it had sounded in Molly’s office.
“We’re coming in a helo and will climb down a rope ladder onto your deck.”
Silence.
“Heinz?”
“Come ahead, but, since I wasn’t planning on leaving port so soon, I don’t have any extra weapons for you.”
Jack heard Gano curse about that.
“Too late now. Did you line up any of your crew to help us go after Barbas?”
“I didn’t want to give your plan away, so I just put out feelers. Even the ones who are mad at Mr. Barbas care more about keeping their jobs. Sorry.”
Now they had a ride, but no weapons and too little manpower. But this was his only chance. He couldn’t shake the feeling of foreboding.
“Molly told me you transport replacement workers from Astoria to the platform. Do you have any on board now?”
“Six.”
“And you’ll use the Frog to get them onto the platform, right?”
“Yeah, and you two as well.”
He realized Heinz was expecting only him and Gano. Nothing gained by telling him otherwise. “We’ll check in when we’re close.” He nodded at Drake to break the connection.
Challenger was rolling heavily through troughs, and Gano looked a little green.
“The man has no weapons for us,” Gano said, “so this is a BYO party. I have my Glock, Beretta, and .38 Special snubnose, but you guys,” looking at Jack and Molly, “are empty-handed. Drake, I hope you have some concealable handguns to pass around. Mahatma Jack, you need to stash one away for a rainy day—like today. This is no time for a Gandhi moment.”
Drake disappeared down the passageway. While he was gone, Jack remembered he should call Debra about this change in plans. She knew he’d intended to make another reconnaissance dive with Drake that would involve some risk, but not that he’d signed up for what could be a one-way trip. That was going to be a tough conversation.
Drake returned, tucking a pistol into a shoulder holster inside his jacket. “Sig Sauer P238, my favorite. I don’t have a lot of firepower for you, but they’re better than nothing.” Shaking his head, he handed a compact gun to Molly. “This is a .22 Magnum Black Widow. Lady, try not to shoot one of us.”
“If I shoot you, it won’t be an accident,” she snapped, checking the weapon like an expert.
Drake grunted and handed Jack a Walther PPK. “This is the only other one I have that can be concealed. I don’t suppose they taught you how to use one of these in law school.”
“You’re selling him short again,” Gano said. “With that PPK, Jack can slice a playing card in half, edgewise, from thirty yards.” He grimaced. “Only problem is getting him to shoot the damn thing in the first place.”
Looking doubtful, Drake handed out extra cartridges then said, “I have four rocket-propelled grenade launchers we should take with us.”
“That would leave your crew helpless against a helicopter gunship,” Jack said.
“Barbas has had three hours to send those bastards, “Drake said. “He’s not coming, and my boys are my responsibility, not yours.”
“What kind of RPGs?” Gano asked eagerly.
“RPG-7s, high-explosive rounds. Simple to fire. Just drop the grenade down the pipe, and it blasts off. Only one round for each.”
“Size?”
“Launcher weighs fifteen pounds. A grenade is nine. Three feet long in a carrying case with a shoulder sling. They’ll slow us down, but it’s worth having them.”
Jack watched Gano weighing pros and cons but knew he’d opt for the escalation in weaponry.
“Yeah, we should take them,” Gano said. “Those little cap pistols you just passed out sure won’t terrorize anyone. Besides, there’s a lot of stuff on that platform begging to eat a grenade.”
The group fell silent.
To have any chance against Barbas’s armed guards, he and the other three had to be prepared to use these weapons. Whenever there was a situation like this, the decision always came out the same way. He also knew that the more violent it got, the more likely they were to be killed. What was he bringing to a fight on Chaos? Would he kill Barbas if he had the chance? He didn’t know.
Because he had a half-assed plan—people, transport, weapons—they were rushing into action. But should they?
He had to choose between terrible options. If they attempted to board Chaos now and neutralize Barbas, they would probably fail—and die. If they didn’t try to board and got away from Challenger in time, the four of them might survive. But if Gorton then refused to take charge, tens of thousands of people along the coast might die. The worst part was the uncertainty. What if he was wrong about Barbas? Maybe he wasn’t rushing to destabilize th
e methane hydrate.
He looked up. They were all watching him. He wanted them to tell him they understood they might not survive an attack on Chaos. He knew Molly was bursting with righteous outrage, but that wouldn’t be enough to carry her through. Drake’s obsession with protecting the hydrothermal vent would very likely warp his judgment.
Gano was different. Why would he take this kind of risk? Simple answer, he was an adrenaline junkie. At another level, he knew how dangerous Barbas was and wanted to stop him. Those two made sense, but Gano’s most compelling reason was one he might not even be aware of, might even deny. Jack knew that Gano had come to admire what he called “Jack’s Gandhi complex.” Beneath his disguise as an easygoing mercenary, Gano had a vein of suppressed idealism. At this moment, Gano coming along as his protector felt like a heavy burden.
Jack trusted his skill in outsmarting opponents, but that wasn’t enough this time. And he couldn’t be swayed by what the others thought about an attack. He thought of the mantra that inspired him: one person can make a difference. This was his time to step up and lead. There would be no turning back. Before speaking to the others, he centered himself and composed a facial mask—one of his many masks—to conceal his doubts from the others.
“We’re going to do this, and we take the RPGs.”
They all nodded.
“I have a phone call to make before we leave.”
In a vacant stateroom, he placed the call and assured Debra that he’d returned safely to Challenger from the dive with Drake. As soon as he finished, she burst out with her news.
“We went to the mattresses on the Armstrong case, but we still couldn’t crack it open. I’ve been carrying around a sick feeling that we were getting ready to lose—”
“We’ve known from the beginning that—”
“—until I had a breakthrough this morning when I figured out how we might get what we want. I’m going to make my move tomorrow.”
‘Great. Tell me what you have.”
“Not till it’s over one way or the other. It’s far from a sure thing. I’ll just say this. It’s going to happen outside the courtroom. I’ll tell you all about it as soon as you get back here.”
She sounded confident.
“Congratulations. It will be a huge relief if you can pull it off.” Now came the hard part, but he’d given her his word. He had to be straight with her. “But I won’t be back right away.” He described the destruction Drake had caused. “Having lost that income, Barbas will go for full methane production right now. I have to leave here in a few minutes, get to the platform, and stop him. My plan is like chess where Barbas is the queen. I’ll explain later.”
The next few minutes were worse than he’d expected. Fear, anger, denial, all coming from love. Walking away would be so easy. Not one person on Challenger would blame him. In fact, they’d be secretly relieved. But in the end, he had to trust himself. He had to do this. Finally, he heard resignation grow in her voice. She knew she couldn’t talk him out of it.
“I’ll call you when it’s over, but don’t worry if that’s not until tomorrow.”
“Don’t forget.”
They said goodbye. Before hanging up, he said, “I love you,” but wasn’t sure whether she heard him.
He sat suspended in time, thinking they might never hold each other again. This didn’t seem real, more like a war game being fought with keystrokes and electronic scorecards, that would end in a few minutes.
He heard pounding on the door. Gano flung it open. “Corte is calling you back. Maybe Gorton’s ready to send in the cavalry.”
This call would change everything. The whole mess would be put into the hands of people who fought wars for a living. He was off the hook.
He ran into the main cabin. “Yes, Corte, do you have President Gorton?”
“I got the photos and your message to him. He called two of his advisors and, before he went back into the meeting, gave me a message to convey to you.”
“Thank God. Tell me.” He imagined calling Debra back with the news.
“He said to tell you his answer was, ‘No way I’m going to attack a foreign platform in international waters on Strider’s say-so.’”
Chapter 38
July 30
6:00 p.m.
Aboard Palinouros
SHOWTIME.
The wind across Challenger’s deck had a bite to it like the forerunner of a nor’easter. Drake had cranked up the big engines to produce top speed. He had to keep believing Barbas wouldn’t attack, or he couldn’t leave his unarmed crew behind.
When the four of them were next to the helo, Jack turned to Drake. “On Pegasus and Challenger, you’re the captain. When this helo takes off, I’m in charge of this group, including you. To use your words, that’s non-negotiable.” He wasn’t asking Drake to agree. Drake gave no sign either way.
The pilot was trying to overhear, so Jack motioned for the others to move away from the helicopter. Braced against the wind, he said, “It’s not too late for anyone to step back.” He had to say that, even though he knew they wouldn’t. “We have one goal: prevent Barbas, Renatus, or anyone else from destabilizing that methane hydrate and setting off a tsunami. To do that, we have to get to Barbas, most likely in the Command Center on the 02 level.”
They nodded, faces grim.
“Gano, take the co-pilot’s seat. Molly, you’re first in the back, then Steve. I’ll get in last and be first down the rope ladder.”
“Let’s get stormin’,” Gano said softly.
They boarded, and the pilot ran the engine up to max RPMs and backed off. Then he powered up again and kept it there, waiting for an order. He looked back. Jack gave him a thumbs-up.
When Challenger paused at the crest of one of the fifteen-foot swells, the pilot lifted off. Drake leaned forward, looked out the window, and saluted his crew. The pilot checked his compass and swung the helo east toward Chaos. Then Jack saw Gano talking to the pilot on the headphone and knew he was telling him to steer for Palinouros and that they would use the rope ladder to descend. The pilot shook his head vehemently and pointed straight ahead. Gano slid his right hand inside his jacket, pulled out his Glock 23, and held it where the pilot could see it was pointed at him. The pilot looked over his shoulder at Jack, then back at Gano, and changed course. As directed, he kept the helo no more than one hundred feet above the crests of the swells to try to evade radar.
“Look to the left,” Molly exclaimed. “Right whales.”
“I see them,” Gano said. “How do you know what kind they are?”
“A right whale is shaped like a blimp. It’s about the same length as the humpback, but at least twice as heavy, maybe a hundred forty thousand pounds. Harpooners called them the ‘right’ whale because with all that blubber they were the right ones to kill. Now they are endangered, and those whale processing ships may finish them off.”
“Speak of the devil,” Drake said, pointing to a bulky ship on the horizon. “There’s one now waiting for its whaleboats to bring kills back to be processed.”
“If we didn’t have to get to Palinouros, I’d like to shoot holes in that bastard with our RPGs,” Jack said sourly. Molly and Gano looked at him, surprised. He went on, “That ship is like the one that fired on Aleutian three weeks ago.”
He looked away, feelings of loss choking him as he thought about Katie fighting to survive, then sucking seawater into her lungs. When he looked ahead again, he saw they were fast approaching a sea-going barge, maybe 250 feet long, plowing through the waves. Palinouros.
He saw immediately why the helicopter couldn’t land. The ore carrier had a row of large rectangular hatch covers running down its spine from the bow to the three-story wheelhouse in the stern. The hatch covers had raised centers and weren’t designed to support a loaded helo. The deck was also fouled
by vents, bollards, and cleats.
To avoid the wheelhouse and the salt water breaking over the bow, the pilot hovered amidships. Keeping his Glock on the pilot, Gano pulled off his headset and leaned back toward Jack.
“I secured the rope ladder. Toss it out the door, and don’t miss that first step.” He grinned and reached back to shake hands with Jack as they’d done before when about to enter a high-stress situation. “See you at the bottom, Tarzan.”
The far end of the rope ladder piled up on Palinouros’s deck. The next moment, the ship and helo separated, leaving the bottom of the ladder swinging in the wind twenty feet above the deck. He could be left dangling high in the air or be hammered into the steel deck. This climb down wasn’t as crazy as his climb up the cliff in Tikal, but this time, he had to worry about three other people. He turned his back to the door, knelt, and inched one leg out, feeling for the first rung of the ladder. He got it and felt for the next lower step. Then the next. When he let go of the door frame and held onto the ladder, his weight swung it under the helo at a sharp angle, just like rappelling down from an overhang on a cliff.
Wind-whipped spray stung his eyes and made the rope slick. The whump, whump, whump of the chopper’s blades felt way too close. As he reached the end of the ladder, he stepped off as if he’d been on an escalator. No sweat.
Drake stood in the helo’s doorway, looking anxious. Jack tried to hold the rope taut, but it jerked out of his hand and swung free. Drake started down, moving from rung to rung quickly, too eager to get it over with. He was five or six body lengths above the deck when his right foot slipped forward off the rope and he flipped backward, jerking both hands loose. He was head down when his right foot caught in a ladder rung. He swung like a stone on a pendulum.
Jack launched himself up onto the ladder, scrambling higher until he got under Drake’s shoulders. He pushed upward until Drake gripped the ladder and righted himself.
Jack dropped off the ladder again, but when Drake jumped seconds later, his right knee gave way, and he fell awkwardly on his side. “Shit,” he cried when he got to his feet and walked in a circle, limping. Good thing he didn’t realize how close he’d come to a face-plant on the steel deck.