Hellfire- The Series, Volumes 1-3

by Leigh Barker

  “SecNav is out of town,” Ed said.

  “You’re a bright kid, right? Now if SecNav was in his office, have a guess where I’d look for him.”

  “Since it’s you, and you’re as scary as a zombie on a dragon, I’ll do it.”

  “Zombies are cool.”

  “Not when they’re sucking out your brains.”

  “Maybe not. So Ed.” He waited for the kid to respond. “Do it fast, you’re on the clock.” He smiled as a dastardly idea struck him. “Unless the cheerleader geek-girl does it faster.”

  The line went dead, which meant either the kid was in fast mode or sulking. Or maybe doing that fantasizing again. He’d give him five minutes.

  Two minutes later his cell spilled out an awful cacophony of what the Japanese thought was rock ’n roll. He hit the button as quickly as he could just to shut it up.

  “You want me to repeat the request?” He raised his eyebrows at the response. “And girl-geek hasn’t even got back to me. You… Ed, are the lord of geek-land.”

  “Yeah,” Ed said, clearly proud of his promotion. “Let me know how Lisa does, right?”

  “As soon as she gets back to me. Could be a while, though, she doesn’t have your skills.” He ended the call before he ran out of young-person speak.

  SecNav was on his boat at Annapolis. A perfect replica of a WW2 PT boat, minus the machine guns. He should’ve known that was where he’d be. First place he went whenever he could get away. He’d just assumed, with all the crap going on, he would’ve stayed in town. Annapolis was only an hour away, so it was almost as good as being in town, he supposed. But didn’t believe it. SecNav should’ve stayed. He decided he wouldn’t mention that when he saw him next.

  As he turned off Florida Avenue and onto US 50, he realized something fundamental was missing if he was to find SecNav on his PT boat. He put his cell on his knee and tapped redial, then looked around to see if there were any cops around. He was already wanted for terrorism, treason, murder, and kidnapping, using a handheld telephone while driving would probably be the straw that did for the old camel.

  “Kelsey.” He waited a moment for her to respond, guessing she was moving away from listeners.

  “Where are you?” she said.

  “Why are you whispering?” he said. “Are you worried about waking the director?”

  “Can’t you be serious for once? You’re in so much trouble it’ll take a miracle to get you out of it, and trust me, the man upstairs has no miracles for you.”

  “Thanks. I’m on my way to Annapolis. I’m going to find SecNav before Teddy does.”

  “You’re playing catch-up. Teddy’s got three or four hours on you.”

  “Then I’ll have to be quick, or be right.”

  “Go with the second option. What can I do—”

  He heard a voice in the background, Ed’s.

  “What can we do to help?”

  “I need a boat, a fast one. Preferably in Annapolis or in the Chesapeake Bay area. No time for anywhere else.”

  “Then you’re in luck. T—”

  “Hold on,” Ethan said and put the cell back onto his knee.

  The blue and white sped past with its lights flashing, and he breathed a sigh of relief. For just a moment there…

  He picked up the phone. “You were saying I’m in luck. There’s a first.”

  “Christian’s boat is in Annapolis. It’s been impounded by the FBI, but it’s still in the Landing Marina. I’ll get Ed to send the dock number to your cell.”

  “Like you said, in luck. Now let’s push that. Can you ask the gee—Ed to locate SecNav’s PT boat?”

  He heard Ed’s voice again.

  “Already on it,” Kelsey said. “Hope to have the coordinates by the time you arrive.”

  “Copy that. I’ll call you when I’m on the… on Christian’s boat.” He smiled. “You thought about how ironic that is? Right, later.”

  It took him a little over an hour to get to Annapolis, sticking strictly to the speed limit, and being passed by just about everybody else. He saw lots of police cruisers, way more than he’d expect to see. One of them came up alongside and matched his speed while the officer looked right at him. He wondered if he was mentally scanning his wanted posters and decided to alter his profile. He sang “Born in the USA” loudly and with all the facial input he could muster. The cop shook his head and sped away. Which was just as well, as he only knew the chorus, and that was brief.

  Annapolis was lit and lively at eleven fifteen, and he made his way through the traffic to the marina. Ed was as good as his word, and the dock number and location was on his phone.

  He half expected to see an FBI unit guarding the yacht. The marina had the look and feel of a fine country club with all the amenities, just the place to find the FBI hanging out. There was nobody there.

  Christian’s boat was halfway up C-Dock and he gave it a double take. It was a Ferretti Pershing 80, white, sleek and faster than a greased mermaid. He didn’t even have to look at the name to know what it was. The challenge would be starting it. And not getting shot if there was a guard around. Best to brazen it out and look like he belonged. He strode down the dock, stepped over the blue and white tape, and walked up the rear steps onto the boat. Nobody shot him, which was a plus. And another plus was there was a fat envelope on the table in the cabin, and when he shook out the contents, the ignition keys clattered onto the desk. The agent responsible had probably gone to the bar in a hurry. He was going to be pissed, and unemployed.

  Five minutes later Ethan took the powerboat out into the creek. All he needed now was SecNav’s location. He checked his cell, but it was empty as his pocket. Come on, kid, you can do it.

  He headed south into the bay, keeping his speed right down, both because he didn’t want to attract attention, and because there wasn’t anywhere to go.

  His cell rang and he snatched it up, and almost dropped it, but recovered it after a short juggling act. “I hope it’s good news.”

  “Good and bad.” It was the kid.

  “I’m getting old here waiting.”

  “Good first, then, since you didn’t ask. I know where SecNav’s boat is.”

  “That’s good,” Ethan said slowly, resisting the temptation to tell him to get the hell on with it. No point upsetting the geek.

  “Bad news is in two parts. Par—”

  “Get the hell on with it.”

  What do they say? Resistance is futile.

  “I located him from his cell’s GPS. His boat’s transponder is out. Could just be busted.”

  “No such thing as coincidence.”

  “Right, I remember.”

  “And the second part?” Ethan said.

  “Second part? Oh yeah. We have an Ocean Sentry plane over the bay. I called in a favor from a friend in the coast guard. Back in the summer I—”

  “Getting old, remember?”

  “Anyway. There’s another boat tracking him. And before you ask, I’ve been watching it for ten minutes, and when SecNav changes course, so does this bogey.” His tone showed he was proud of that word.

  Ethan didn’t want to rain on his parade by telling him what bogey really meant. “How far away is this… bogey?”

  “Three miles behind SecNav.”

  “Is it closing?”

  “Negative. It’s maintained that position for the whole time I’ve been watching.”

  “Good. Give me their position.”

  “They’re off Chesapeake Beach. About fourteen miles south of you.” Ed drew a long breath. “Can you catch them?”

  “Kid,” Ethan said, reaching for the throttle, “this thing’ll do forty-five knots plus. Any faster and it’ll be an aircraft.” The nose lifted and white water boiled up behind. “How long have you got the Sentry?”

  “My friend… you remember, I said I have a—”

  “If I live through this, you won’t. If you don’t get the fuck on with it.”

  “As long as we like. They think
there’s a fast boat full of drugs coming in tonight. Cool or what?”

  Ethan killed the call and concentrated on pushing the Pershing up towards its top end. Something he wasn’t doing reluctantly.

  Fifteen minutes at almost fifty knots along the shoreline of Chesapeake Bay, where the speed limit was ten knots. If they caught him, he’d be in so much trouble. But they’d need a plane to do that. His cell did that god-awful row again.

  “The coast guard have you approaching the bogey…” Ed stalled for a second while he let Ethan appreciate his knowledge of military slang.

  “If you keep this up, you’re going to be geeking with my foot up your ass,” Ethan said. Appreciatively.

  “SecNav’s ship…”

  “Boat.”

  “SecNav’s boat is a mile to your right.”

  “Starboard.”

  “And the other bo—other shi—boat is three miles to your left.”

  “Port.”

  “No, it’s still in the bay.”

  “Any other traffic?” Ethan said, giving up on the geek’s education.

  “Negatory, good buddy.”

  His knowledge of military slang was awesome.

  Ethan pushed the Pershing to full throttle and it tipped fifty knots for less than a minute before he saw SecNav’s PT, mostly from its wake on the dark water.

  He throttled back and came up alongside as fast as he could without the powerboat’s bow wave pushing the PT away and undoing the whole purpose of the maneuver.

  SecNav was about to shout abuse at the madman, but saw a familiar figure run out onto the covered rear deck. He throttled down to a couple of knots and stepped out on deck.

  “Faraj is closing on your six,” Ethan shouted, and left out the fact that Faraj was Teddy, the FBI’s super analyst. There were times to chat and times to act.

  “Copy that, Top,” SecNav said, and patted the roof of the cockpit. “This wooden tub will do forty knots. That should be enough.”

  “Negative, sir.” Ethan waited for the swell to bring them back on the same plane. “Faraj has three Hellfire missiles.”

  “What do you propose?” SecNav sounded calm and relaxed, as a Navy SEAL should.

  “I plan to run interference while you hightail it to shore at full throttle.”

  “Sounds like a good thing for me, less so for you.” SecNav stepped back towards the cockpit. “Maybe he’ll miss.”

  “I hope not.”

  SecNav stopped and looked back. “Be careful.”

  “I plan to do the opposite of careful.”

  “Then fuck it, let’s be careless together.”

  “Right down his throat?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Me first, then,” Ethan said.

  “If you must grab all the glory.”

  “I’m a marine, glory is what we do.”

  SecNav shook his head. “Do you ever listen to yourself?”

  “Try not to, sir, not a fan of bullshit.”

  The PT’s three monster V12 engines fired and the boat’s stern dug into the sea. It took the Pershing about ten seconds to pass her and take the lead. Northwest, straight towards Teddy and his missiles.

  It took only another minute before Ethan saw the white-hot signature of the Hellfire’s jet exhaust. If he believed in God, he would’ve asked him to make sure the missile had been fired in Lock on After Launch mode. Chances are that’s what Teddy would do, thinking there’d be only one boat near enough to be a target.

  He steered sharp right and opened up the two massive MTU engines to maximum. The missile changed direction. He thanked God just in case he had anything to do with it. Then thought about it. He was being glad the eight kilograms of high explosive was blasting towards him at nigh on a thousand miles an hour. Upside being, not long to wait.

  The missile had a low trajectory and it took Ethan a second to realise it had changed and was now coming down. Fast.

  He slammed the Pershing into slow, ran onto the aft deck, and dived overboard. The beautiful powerboat travelled another twenty yards before the Hellfire hit.

  Ethan didn’t see the boat disintegrate, he was busy diving as deep as he could. The concussive wave still reached him, but with only enough energy to bounce him around and try to knock the air out of his lungs.

  He surfaced and sucked in cold salt air that he couldn’t remember ever tasting so good. The three-million-dollar Pershing was no more than a few scattered burning bits on the surface. He was alive and only five miles from the shore. Outstanding. He started to swim.

  The PT appeared ahead and SecNav threw him a line. “Want a lift?”

  Ethan grabbed the line, kicked out and pulled as fast as he could. Teddy had two more missiles.

  He scrambled on board and jabbed his hand towards the cockpit while he fought for breath. He was getting too old for this shit.

  “Oh, right,” SecNav said, and stepped back into the cockpit.

  Ethan saw the flash of another missile launching and knew they weren’t going to get away from this one, so another swim beckoned. Except he also knew Faraj or, since now the time to act was past, Teddy was going to come on over and finish them off in the water.

  He drew his Sig and let the water drain out of it. Its waterproof chamber meant it was going to fire when needed, but firing up from the surface at a boat wasn’t going to bring any happy results. He put it back in its holster and clipped it in for when he’d need it. One last time.

  The Hellfire followed the same flat trajectory as the first one and came on in. SecNav was coming out of the cockpit and appeared to be in no particular hurry.

  “Jump,” Ethan shouted, and grabbed his arm.

  SecNav was going to say something, but two F-15 fighters screamed over their heads, their afterburners like two mini-suns powering the planes at Mach 10 at practically zero feet.

  Both men staggered across the deck from the shock and concussion of them passing, then regained their balance in time to see one of the F-15’s fire its Sidewinder missile, and a second later the Hellfire was gone in a dome of white-hot gas. The second fighter banked left, leveled off and fired two missiles at Teddy’s boat. A bit of overkill, but it did the job. The boat vanished in a mushroom cloud.

  Both F-15s executed a banked turn, came screaming back, dipped their wings flamboyantly and broke away in opposite directions across the bow of the PT.

  Ethan watched their afterburners lighting the low clouds until they disappeared into the night and turned slowly to SecNav. “You knew.”

  SecNav gave up watching the burning debris on the water. “Seemed to me I was the obvious target. Somebody was killing everyone who had anything to do with Hellfire missile launches. I’m pretty near the top of that list.”

  “So you took it someplace where there’d be no collateral damage.”

  “And where my navy could do what it does.”

  “Your navy?”

  “Yes, my navy. I’m Secretary of the Navy, right? Should be a few perks from all that responsibility.”

  “Yes, and I’d say we just saw two of them.” Ethan pointed south where the F-15 had gone. “Cut it a bit fine though, don’t you think?”

  “Bit out of practice. It’s been a while since I was in combat.” SecNav put out his hand. “But you were there to pull my nuts out of the blender.”

  Ethan shook his hand. “I’m a marine, it’s—”

  “I heard that last time. Still don’t believe it.” SecNav smiled wider than his joke deserved. “I think you get off on near-death experiences.”

  “Near death I can handle, it’s the next level up I’m keeping away from.”

  “Amen to that.” SecNav started the powerful motors but kept them to a speed that wouldn’t hurl them around the charthouse. “A drink?”

  “You buying?”

  “Wouldn’t dream of robbing you of the privilege of buying your chief a beer.”

  “Much obliged… Chief.”

  “Let me be the first to congratulate our fel
low FBI agents on a job well done,” Dryer said to a room full of smartly dressed men and women. “And special appreciation goes to SecNav, whose skill and courage brought the case to a satisfactory conclusion. Finally.”

  Ethan and Kelsey exchanged a smile.

  “Now that the backslapping is over, get back to work,” Dryer said. “The criminals don’t take time out.” He really was a sweetie-pie.

  Kelsey held open the door for him as they made their way out of the Hoover Building, hopefully for the last time.

  “What now?”

  He reached over her head and put his hand on the door to stop it hitting her in the ass as she stepped away from it. “I’ve been offered a job.”

  She stopped and turned to face him, then looked up at his hand on the door, but the question about the job got in first. “Who’d employ you? That nice Special Agent in Charge Dryer, Timothy to his friends, just said SecNav had to save your sorry ass.”

  “And it’s true, every word of it.”

  “Then what’s the job?”

  “Let’s get coffee and I’ll spill the beans.” He laughed. “See what I did there?” But she was already walking away.

  She chose a table in the corner of the coffee shop and left the seat against the wall for Ethan. He sat and nodded his appreciation at being able to see the door. Seemed she’d remembered the gunfighter’s preference. Then she ordered a cappuccino with extra chocolate and cinnamon for her and straight up triple-shot black for Ethan. Marine style.

  No wonder they were all hyper.

  “You’ve been offered a job,” she said. “Do you have to wear a red cape and put your underpants on outside your trousers?”

  “Only at Halloween.”

  “Thank God for small mercies.”

  He checked his nails. “SecNav was so impressed with my superlative performance he wants me to be his go-to guy. Yeah, that’s what he called me, his go-to guy. Never been one of those before.”

  The coffee arrived and the waiter placed them on the table after looking suspiciously at Ethan’s thick, black brew.

  “Doing what exactly, as his go-to guy?” Kelsey said, and sipped her cappuccino.

  Ethan dabbed the froth off her nose with a napkin.