Hard Case V: Blood and Fear (A John Harding Novel Book 5) (44 page)

Casey and I took pictures and DNA samples of the six man crew dead above decks, guarding each other against interference from below decks. I had brought aboard a couple of flash bangs for the below decks area. I planned to be polite, while gathering prisoners for interrogation. There should have been no need to get confrontational. Wrong.

“I’m dropping a grenade down there if I don’t hear a voice! Speak now, or else!”

I was answered with automatic weapons’ fire from below. I shook my head at Casey. “I get no respect, Case.”

“I see that.” Casey caught the flash-bang, tossing it below deck in the same motion. We both turned away with hands covering ears.

The resulting explosion blew not only the patrol boat’s lower deck apart. It also threw Casey and I out into the ocean like ragdolls in a tidal wave. I stayed conscious only by gripping my MP5 in both hands, concentrating on not letting go while I sailed into the air. When I began descending toward the ocean with foggy blackness turning my vision from high-def to the pit of darkness, I turned in flight. Holding my MP5 out in front of me, I cut through the debris without injury entering the water. I immediately surfaced with MP5 slung now to my back. I spotted Casey face-down in the water only twenty yards from me. I stroked through the debris at an Olympics breaststroke charge.

I flipped him onto his back, not seeing any wounds. I gripped his back with one hand, and worked his chest with the other, putting rib breaking pressure on his chest in measured compressions. I didn’t quit even when Lucas brought the Wolf next to me using our electric trolling motors. A split second before I drifted to the fantail for retrieval, Casey spewed seawater, choking into consciousness. Lucas and Jafar jolted him onto the Wolf’s deck, coughing and hacking while holding in a knees and hands on deck position. I scrambled aboard after searching and finding his MP5, which had caught on the side of a patrol boat hull piece. I slung it around my neck, and crawled on board. Jafar pushed an oxygen mask into place over Casey’s nose and mouth, with Lucas helping to prop his partner in a sitting position.

I stayed on hands and knees near my three shipmates, taking deep breaths as I watched Casey’s eyes taking stock of his surroundings. He grinned at me. We’d been in combat before, in situations where death walked along with us, arm in arm. Casey reached with his hand to grip my shoulder. Lucas put a hand over his. Jafar added his. Sometimes, no matter how bad-ass and prepared soldiers facing deadly situations are, we end a fight in God’s hands.

“Oh well, kids,” Lucas said. “I think maybe we better revise our battle plan. You boot-camps are going to get yourselves killed before we ever see that Christova bitch. If you girls will excuse me, I’ll start moving the Wolf onto our objective.”

Jafar waited until Lucas gave Casey a quick smack to the back of the head, and then walked toward the bridge. “Is this a good time to ask what happened?”

Casey took off the oxygen mask. “Combat, kid - sometimes dumb and unexpected. God bless us everyone.”

I flipped over to my back as the Wolf accelerated away from the patrol boat debris. “Amen to that, brother.”

* * *

Lynn grabbed Moronas by the ear, her face inches away from his. She and Clint had been on their way with the Hollywood Bounty Hunters for the final scene, transferring Moronas to FBI agents Sam Reeves and Janie Labrie, when Denny called them after final confirmation of what Isaac Kalu planned to transfer through Moronas to Christova: Sarin in weapons grade containers with engineered dispersal systems attached for any attack through any venue.

“We just heard what you would be transporting into Europe through Christova from a source here in our land, you fucking weasel! It was Sarin. Christova planned to use it first in the United Kingdom with traceable leads back to us as the originators, killing thousands. If I find out you knew about any detail of this, I will find a way to get your ass into our custody again, even if I have to raid the prison where you’re held. We will make a video record of your death over the ensuing month which will be used as the ultimate measure within human capacity to administer pain without death. Only one thing will keep you from that fate: information. You spent days in contact with Christova aboard her yacht, The Orion. Tell me something useful right now, or I play all of this out, and when I discover the truth later, God himself will come down on earth to escort me into hell for what I do to you. Do you understand me, princess?”

Moronas shook visibly with fear. He had left one detail out, hoping to play his knowledge of it for later consideration after any implementation of the weaponized gas by Christova. “Christova has Sarin on board The Orion. Any attack on her yacht will release the gas, built into a trigger mechanism she controls. There is an escape pod built into the yacht’s starboard side master suite where she stays.”

Lynn turned to her grim faced husband. “Did you get that, Clint?”

“I got confirmation from Denny, and John. They were listening,” Clint answered. “What do you want to do, babe?”

“I would like to skin this bastard right now.” Lynn released Moronas’s ear, pushing him away in the limousine. “Good Lord in heaven would I make him scream. We’ll do him later if something goes wrong.”

Lynn smiled at Moronas as he cringed into the corner. “I hope you learned your part for a one take filming, princess. Every retake we have to do, even if it’s the fault of our other people on set, and you get a nineteen million volt dick jolt from the new ‘Terminator’ stun gun I’m experimenting with, on that two inch joint of yours. Oh baby… what times we’ll have if the film crew is having an off day.”

* * *

The four of us sat on the bridge, glancing at each other more out of commiseration than anything else.

“That bitch, Christova, is a monster,” Lucas said, providing the rest of us monsters with some comic relief.

“If Interpol would have catalogued her usage of Ricin more specifically in her last getaway, we might have been able to anticipate this,” Jafar said with a need to state something more palatable than the information we received from the states.

“It’s a small thing, little brother.” Something struck me solidly in my approach addled brain – too many days as shark bait alongside The Lora. “I have an idea.”

The loud collective groan from my compatriots brought a smile to my lips.

“The Dark Lord has a plan,” Lucas said, holding out his hand to Casey. “Can I borrow your Colt, brother? I’d rather shoot myself in the head now.”

“No way!” Casey backed away from Lucas. “That would leave Achmed the Terrorist to finish me off because it’s against my religion to commit suicide. You do me first, and then the Colt is all yours, brother.”

“What about me?” Achmed realized he was left out to merely observe. He turned to Lucas with his hands and features in pleading form. “Case is right, benevolent one. You will have to shoot both him and me before escaping this trail of tears.”

Lucas waved Achmed off with passion. “Not since you disrespected me, Achmed.”

“Okay, that’s enough comedy for now. Are you three comedians going to listen or not?” I put on my surly Cheeseburger face for them.

“Spit it out, Dark Lord,” Lucas ordered only after more moments of hilarity.

“Denny has The Orion on satellite now in constant surveillance. We know the damn blueprints like our own mothers-”

“Except for you, Recon. You don’t know your momma,” Lucas corrected me in midsentence.

Another gap in my recitation ensued with Casey expanding it with his own gem, claiming to be my father in a very credible Darth Vader voice.

I held up my hands. “Can I go on now, or do we allow Christova to steam off into Never/Never land? With Denny and Laredo accessing satellite coverage of Christova’s yacht, I can make an approach, and get on board undetected. Denny told me he has the Seal team we normally have as our backup aboard the carrier force with our old friend, Lieutenant Commander Tom in charge. He’ll be thrilled I want to avoid our usual carnage.”

“How in hell do you plan a boarding without them noticing, you… never mind,” Lucas said. “How?”

“We have to watch them from satellite. When they allow scuba diving or launches from their fantail, I’ll swim to them like I belonged. Hell, they won’t notice another diver coming on board. Once I’m on, I need to get the passengers off into the water with the carrier group approaching. We already know Christova has upper echelon guests, including this time a couple of royal figures from the Netherlands and Sweden. It’s how she’s covered herself since the Interpol attack. Once on board, I will get to Christova immediately while Jafar drives the Wolf for Lucas and Casey to board The Orion. Then, of course, all hell breaks loose. We will all have our gas masks on; but if I don’t reach Christova before she hits the Sarin gas switch, they may be looking for new royalty in a few places. In any case, I want Lieutenant Commander Tom and his Seal team to land a few minutes after Lucas and Casey, with all the rafts and personnel needed to evacuate the yacht. It will be up to us to make sure no bad people survive in the rescue.”

“I have to hand it to you, Recon,” Lucas said. “That plan sucks. Let’s do it.”

“If it was easy, anyone could do it, right Achmed?” Casey clapped Jafar on the shoulder.

Achmed was not pleased. “I want allowances and guarantees if somehow during my piloting of the Wolf any damage occurs, I will be unaccountable. Otherwise, I shoot myself through the head right now.”

* * *

“That’s a long swim, Recon,” Lucas said as I slipped into the water. We had decided on a mile for safety’s sake. “It’s a good thing I put you through your paces out in the Bay.”

“All I have now is this damn thin black wetsuit, pappy. I’m cold.”

Lucas pushed me at the forehead away from the Wolf’s fantail. “Step up, pussy.”

My mile swim with the GPS gear I had was a walk in the park, in addition to the fact the waters in the Gulf of Guinea were many degrees warmer than the Bay. I wore the same black wetsuit skins as the other divers we had seen through satellite imagery doing dives aboard The Orion. I carried only a waterproof bag with an MP5, a .45 caliber Colt with silencer, some clothing, and a gas mask capable of filtering Sarin gas for a short amount of time. How short was an experiment I didn’t want to test out with me as the test subject. Hell, if I didn’t get to Christova fast, there would be a lot of Sarin gas experiments. I left in plenty of time for the dive parties, scuba diving off The Orion, to do their dives by what we’d been observing, and arrive in time to board with them. I wore a single tank with regulator, and a weight belt to keep me down. I snorkeled the entire mile, on a mission, rather than sightseeing. Luckily, any scuba diving close to Lagos was a waste of time because of totally murky waters, and pollution. The Orion held position far away from shore, near a reef outcropping.

I had a full tank of air when I arrived at the dive spot The Orion’s guests were frequenting. They were in two dive teams of five: the escorting master diver, and two scuba teams of two. I decided to stay near the hull of The Orion, waiting for the haphazard exodus from the water normal for divers off of a boat. As I hoped, my exit from the water went unnoticed as the other divers joked around, shedding equipment, and telling tales. I stayed in a partial crouch near the railing with one of the dive teams blocking my appearance. Once shed of my wetsuit, I slipped on the jeans, t-shirt, com unit, and slip on shoes in my bag while the others grab-assed around. With my weapon bag strapped over my shoulder, and one hand on the silenced Colt, I proceeded to the area of the ship we believed Christova was in. I tested the com unit, getting a double click in my ear.

The first ship’s crewman who looked at me funny, I Gronked, and dragged to an unoccupied space. Bringing him to consciousness was rather daunting, but doable after five minutes. “Where is Christova?”

The man’s eyes fluttered as he regained consciousness. “I…I think she’s dining.”

“Take me there or I put a bullet through your head.” The silenced muzzle of my .45 Colt awakened him to full compliance. “If she’s not there, I’m going to kill you, and find another helper.”

“She…she’s there. I just left the dining room.”

“Let’s go.” I jerked him to his feet with such ease it shocked him for a moment until he noticed my size. We didn’t pass anyone official in the corridor, so I didn’t have to kill anyone. When we reached the dining area, I spotted Christova in seconds. “Stand here on the floor and live. Cry out for help, and die. Undertand?”

He nodded. I walked over to Christova’s table. A few eggs would have to be broken to make this omelet. I shot the two men in back of her in suits through the head, threw the table over, grabbed Christova off her chair by the neck, and turned. I shot two more running at us amidst the screams while backing to a corner where either my guys arrived or Christova and I died.

“I have Christova,” I broke radio silence for the first time on my com unit. “We’re in a very loud, screaming portion of the dining area. I have cover, but life expectancy will be limited to how fast you guys come aboard. There will be no gas.”

“We boarded ten seconds ago,” Lucas said in my ear. “We were watching, and we’re headed to you as we speak. The Seal team lands in ten minutes, so Case and I will join you momentarily. Pop that bitch if things get nasty.”

“I sure will.” I grinned at Christova, who stared at me in horror with my razor sharp blade against her neck drawing ever so lightly a thin trace of blood. With my right hand, I held the Colt, ready to execute upon approach. Four commando type guys burst professionally into the room, looking for I’m sure, their employer, Christova. “Bye, bye, doll-face.”