“I thought you said that he had called you and told you that he had secured the gold,” said Davos.
“Yes, sir, but that was almost a day ago. I had thought to hear from him again by now.”
“Don’t worry. If something had gone wrong, it would be all over the news by now. Speaking of the news, have the Turks landed on Kardak Island?”
Drakos shook his head. “There’s nothing about it on the television. Just before coming here I called my contact in the Aegean and he has heard nothing as well. Perhaps the Turks are a little slow getting going?”
Davos pursed his lips. His plan required Kaba doing his part and on time. He leaned over and whispered, “Use your secure phone and call Kaba. I want to know why his soldiers have not taken Kardak.”
“Yes, sir. Will there be anything else?”
“Is my helicopter on standby?”
“The crew is ready to go when you are.”
Davos glanced at his watch. “Have them arrive for twenty-one hundred hours, sharp.”
Drakos nodded and left to call Kaba in private.
Mitchell exited the military helicopter and fell in line with everyone else as they walked off the helipad and went inside. A young officer greeted everyone and said, “If you will all follow me, I’ll guide you to the conference room, where you will be met by the ship’s media-relations agent. She’ll show you where to set up your cameras.”
Mitchell and Jackson exchanged a quick, determined look at one another. Hundreds of lives were at stake. Neither man was going to stop until they had put an end to Davos’ treachery. As the small group of people walked past the first set of stairs, Mitchell and Jackson slipped away from everyone else and headed below. Mitchell got off on the next deck while Jackson raced down into the bowels of the ship.
Mitchell was not sure what he as going to do when he got to Elena’s cabin. He did not have a gun. He stopped for a moment to read a map on the wall. Elena’s room was about halfway down the corridor. Outside of a room sat a trolley, piled high with dirty room-service dishes. A young crewman was busy re-stacking everything so he could take the trolley back to the galley without spilling anything onto the floor. An idea flashed in Mitchell’s mind. It was crazy, but it was all he could think of. As he passed the crewman, he pretended to trip over something. He reached over and grabbed the trolley for support.
“Are you okay, sir?” asked the young man, moving to Mitchell’s side to help him.
“Just clumsy,” replied Mitchell as he let go of the cart and stood up. Hidden behind his right hand was a knife. He smiled at the crewman and watched as he pushed his overloaded trolley down the hallway. When he was alone, Mitchell warily moved to Elean’s cabin. He stayed out of sight for a couple of seconds, preparing himself before stepping directly in front of the door. Without hesitating, Mitchell brought up his right leg, and with all the strength he could muster he kicked the door in, breaking the lock and sending the door flying open. He instantly dropped to one knee and brought his right hand up.
Inside the room, the gunman jumped out of his seat, and, with lightning-fast reflexes, brought his pistol up to fire.
Mitchell saw the man and threw his knife. With a wet thud, it struck the killer in the chest. He stared down at the knife in disbelief. Before the man could react, Mitchell was up on his feet and charging into the room. He hit the gunman hard in the chest with his shoulder, hurling him to the floor. Mitchell turned and saw where the man had dropped his pistol. He grabbed it, spun about, and aimed the weapon at the gunman’s head, just as the man gasped his last breath and died.
“Jesus, Ryan, am I ever glad to see you,” said Sam, enthusiastically.
“Me too,” added Cardinal.
Elena got out of her seat and moved to help Mitchell.
“Ma’am, close the door and bar it with a chair,” said Mitchell to Elena. He moved over next to Cardinal and dug out his skeleton key. In less than a minute, he had freed his two friends.
Mitchell placed his pistol down on the table and said, “Mrs. Milos, the security forces will have heard me kicking in the door. Your room will be swarming with trigger-happy security agents in the next few minutes. Please believe me when I tell you that General Davos is a traitor and intends to sink this ship.”
“Of course I believe you, Mister Mitchell,” said Elena. “He killed my brother and was going to kill all of us, had you not shown up.”
At that moment, the door to the cabin burst open a second time. Wood flew everywhere, as the door was ripped off its hinges. Two men with pistols drawn rushed inside and aimed their weapons at Mitchell. “Hands up,” ordered one of the security agents.
Mitchell slowly raised his hands.
“Are you all right, Mrs. Milos?” asked the lead agent.
“Yes, I am. This man is with me,” said Elena to the men in Greek as she looked over at Mitchell. “Gentlemen, the ship is in danger. I need to speak with Prime Minister Kouris right away.”
The men hesitated, not sure of what was going on.
“Now!” said Elena firmly, shaking the men into action.
“Lower your hands,” said the lead agent to Mitchell. He looked at his partner, who grabbed his radio and called the head of security.
“What’s going on?” Cardinal asked.
“We believe that there are thermite charges hidden somewhere near the ship’s fuel storage tanks,” explained Mitchell. “Nate has gone to look for them.”
“My God, when are they supposed to go off?” asked Elena.
Mitchell looked at his watch. “In about an hour.”
“That should give the security forces plenty of time disarm the bombs.”
“Nate has to find them first.”
“Okay, I’m going to help,” said Cardinal. He leaned over, gave Sam a quick kiss on the forehead, and ran out of the cabin before she could object.
“Excuse me, did you say there is a bomb on board the ship?” the lead agent asked Mitchell.
“Yes, I did,” he responded.
The agent instantly reached for his radio. A second later, an alarm began to blare throughout the ship.
Jackson’s heart beat wildly in his chest. Every step he took seemed harder than the last. For Nate Jackson, running was the thing he hated to do the most in the world. The only person who had bothered to ask him what he was doing was lying on the floor of the ship, knocked out cold for getting in Jackson’s way. He turned a corner and saw the door leading to the vessel’s fuel storage area.
“Next time, you rescue the hostages, and make Ryan run through the boat,” Nate muttered to himself, as he pulled open the door to the fuel tanks and stepped inside the vast room. Right away, he could see a massive metal fuel tank that filled almost the entire room. The smell of diesel hung heavy in the air.
A man in blue coveralls yelled something angrily at Nate in Portuguese, from across the room. He figured it probably had something to do with being in a restricted area.
Jackson ran towards the technician. “Listen up, I don’t have time to explain. Do you speak English?”
“Yes,” replied the man.
“This is not a joke, there’s a bomb in this room. Has anyone been in here recently?” asked Jackson.
The man looked back in disbelief.
At that moment, the ship’s alarm system sprang to life, surprising both men.
“Yes or no!” yelled Jackson, trying to be heard over the wailing klaxon.
The technician stepped aside and pointed to a large electrical box on the wall.
Jackson ran over and opened the box. He sucked in air through clenched teeth when he saw several thermite grenades rigged to detonate. The timer read one hour and thirty-one seconds. Plenty of time for a bomb disposal team to disarm the vice, thought Jackson. All he had to do now was wait for the experts to arrive.
All of a sudden, the hour displayed on the timer vanished. “Dammit!” growled Nate. It seemed the device had a motion sensor built into it, a self-defense mechanism to prevent
anyone from tampering with it. Jackson now had mere seconds to do something, or he—and everyone else on board—would die when the bombs exploded.
“Do you have a small pair of pliers on you?” Jackson called out over his shoulder.
With his hand shaking, the technician reached into his toolbelt and gave Jackson his pliers.
Jackson wiped the sweat from his eyes. He quickly studied the jumble of colored wiring leading from the grenades and reached for a long, red wire that led back to the timer on the bomb.
“Are you sure that is the right wire to cut?” asked the technician, his voice filled with terror.
Jackson glanced at the timer. He had seconds before the thermite exploded and took the ship’s fuel tank with it. He closed his eyes and snipped the wire. The countdown stopped with three seconds left on the clock.
Jackson opened his eyes and let out his breath. He carefully removed the grenades from the electrical box and laid them down on the floor. He looked up at the petrified engineer. “It had to be red or green. We had a fifty-fifty chance to disarm it before it went off. Besides, it’s always the red wire in the movies.”
The technician looked like he was about to empty his stomach all over the floor.
Jackson stood, placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, and calmly said, “Call security and tell them you found a bomb. They need to get down here right away to deal with it.”
“Yes, right away.”
“I’ve got to go,” said Jackson, as he picked up one of the thermite grenades and placed it in his jacket pocket. “My friends may still need my help.”
The engineer stood there, speechless, staring wide-eyed in awe at Nate.
Jackson looked back the way he had come. “Say, I’m tired of running. Is there an elevator around here I could use?”
The man pointed down the hallway.
“Much obliged,” said Jackson. He turned in the direction the engineer had indicated. “Don’t forget to call security about the bomb.”
With his hands still shaking, the technician reached for his radio. The split second after he passed on his message, he turned and emptied his stomach all over the floor. Today was truly turning out to be the worst day of his life.
The ship’s alarm sounded. Davos shot up onto his feet and looked at the flashing red light above the entrance to the room.
A voice came across the ship’s PA system. “Ladies and Gentlemen, there is no need for alarm. Please calmly move out onto the main deck to your designated lifeboat and await further orders from the crew. I repeat, please move to your assigned lifeboat where you will receive further direction.”
The loud klaxon switched off, only to be replaced by the sound of dozens of scared voices, wondering what had gone wrong. Throughout the conference room, men and women stood and began to hurry out.
Davos stood and watched the people leave. He was confused. If the bombs had prematurely detonated, it would have been obvious. His gut told him that something had gone very wrong.
It was time to leave.
He dug out his cell phone and began to walk. A man on the other end of the line answered. “Bring my helicopter over now!” ordered Davos.
He strode out into the hallway and almost ran in Drakos. “What is going on?” he asked his henchman.
“The bombs have been discovered,” replied Drakos.
Davos clenched his fists in anger. “I want you to head below and make sure that Milos and the two foreigners are dealt with. We can’t have them talking to anyone. Once you’re done, meet me back on the helipad.”
“Yes, sir.”
Davos watched Drakos turn and sprint down the hallway. His plan was rapidly falling apart. He swore under his breath. With a furious gleam in his eyes, he walked towards the stairs. He wanted to be ready to depart the instant his helicopter arrived.
Unseen behind him, Yuri hobbled along, careful to stay out of his quarry’s sight.
Drakos pushed his way through the throng of passengers trying to get out onto the main deck. He ignored the security personnel he passed, who were trying to shepherd their people to safety. He reached inside his jacket, pulled out his pistol and hurried down the corridor. Up ahead, he could see that Elena’s door had been kicked in. He slowed down, proceeding with caution. When he arrived, he brought up his pistol and stepped into the room. Drakos swore when he found the room devoid of life, and only the dead body of his accomplice lying on the floor. His prey had escaped.
Drakos was about to leave when he heard the sound of a pistol’s hammer being cocked behind him.
“I knew someone would come back. Drop your weapon and turn around slowly, with your hands in the air,” warned a voice.
Drakos dropped his pistol to the floor and turned. He shook his head when he recognized Ryan Mitchell standing there, with a gun aimed at his head. “I should have killed you in Oregon,” said Drakos.
“So you’re the slimeball responsible for that mess,” said Mitchell. “You know, you really should have looked behind you when entered the room. I’ve made that mistake a couple of times in the past and it always cost me.”
Drakos stared into Mitchell’s eyes. He saw the look of a man not afraid to kill if he had to. “What do you want?”
“A full confession,” replied Mitchell bluntly.
“You’re not a cop. Why do you care?”
“Because people have died because of you, that’s why.”
Hidden in Drakos’ right jacket sleeve was a spring-loaded wrist knife. All it would take was for him to flick his wrist and the blade would shoot out. He had one chance and one chance only to use it. He slowly raised his hands in surrender.
Mitchell saw the change in Drakos’ demeanor and tensed. The attack happened so fast that Mitchell’s brain barely had time to register what happened. When Drakos’ arms were nearly parallel with Mitchell’s chest, he sharply flicked his right wrist, releasing the knife. Mitchell pulled the trigger of his weapon, and started to turn his body away from the onrushing knife. He was fast, but not fast enough. The blade slid along his chest, cutting a bloody groove through his clothes, down to his ribs.
Mitchell grimaced in pain. He stepped back slightly and placed a hand over the cut.
Drakos, however, fared worse. Struck in the forehead, Hades Drakos fell down on his knees, and then facefirst onto the carpet, dead.
Mitchell’s chest felt like it was on fire. He slipped his pistol away and walked out into the corridor. His jacket was soaked in blood. He smiled with relief when he saw Sam running toward him.
She saw the cut and said, “What happened to you?”
Mitchell pointed at Elena’s room. “An old friend stopped by.”
Sam shook her head as she assessed Mitchell’s wound. “This is a really nasty cut. You’re going to need stitches. Come with me; I’m taking you to see the doc.”
“What about Mrs. Milos, is she safe?”
“Yes. She’s with the Greek PM and his security entourage.”
Mitchell looked down the empty hallway. “I wonder what happened to Nate.”
Jackson stepped out of the elevator and was almost trampled by the rush of people trying to get to their lifeboats. He was not sure where he was, so he turned to look at a map of the ship on the wall.
“Nate! Nate, over here” called out Cardinal.
Jackson turned to see his friend pushing his way through the crowd.
“I take it that you found and deactivated the bomb,” said Cardinal.
“Yeah, with three whole seconds to spare. Where’s everyone else?”
“Sam and Ryan are looking after Mrs. Milos.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Jackson spotted Yuri making his way towards the back of the ship. He remembered Mitchell’s orders and grabbed Cardinal by the arm. “Come on.”
“Why?”
“Because I think Yuri is tailing someone.”
Together, they worked their way through the people milling about on the main deck. Even though Yuri was using a cane to he
lp him walk, it still took them a couple of minutes to catch up with him.
“Who are you following?” Jackson asked Yuri.
Yuri pointed at Davos’ back. “General Davos.”
Jackson had never laid eyes in Davos before; however, he could tell from the way the man was moving that he was in a hurry. A second later, Davos vanished from sight as he climbed up a set of stairs and walked out onto the helipad.
Out over the dark waters of the harbor, a helicopter raced towards the ship. It ignored the calls from the Aurora’s bridge to keep away while rescue helicopters tried to land on the vessel.
Jackson led his friends to the back of the ship. They climbed the stairs to the helipad, where they could see Davos standing there, talking to someone on a cell phone.
“Looks like someone called for a taxi,” said Yuri, pointing at a Twin Huey as it lined itself up with the helipad. A couple of seconds later, it landed. Davos hurried over and got in the co-pilot’s seat.
“We can’t let that murdering S.O.B. get away,” said Cardinal.
“What would you suggest?” said Yuri. “I don’t see any anti-air missiles laying around.”
“No, but I might have the next best thing,” said Jackson, as he ran his hand over the thermite charge he had brought with him. He looked over at his teammates and said, “Stall it. Don’t let it take off.” With that, Jackson turned about and ran down the stairs.
Yuri and Cardinal watched Jackson disappear. “Now what?” said Cardinal.
“You heard the man,” replied Yuri as he walked up onto the landing pad and waved frantically at the pilot.
“Whatever,” muttered Cardinal. He brought up a hand to block his face so Davos would not see him and joined his friend trying to flag down the chopper.
Yuri headed straight for the pilot’s door. He could see the pilot look over at Davos and exchange a few words. Davos shook his head. The pilot looked back at Yuri and waved him away. Yuri ignored the pilot and kept going.
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