Operation Sea Ghost

16

Indian Ocean

0200 hours

THE SEA HAD become motionless.

There was no wind. Not even a breeze.

The night sky was clear; the stars above were sizzling. It was still brutally hot.

Nolan had spent the last hour on the bow of the Taiwan Song, at the very tip of the ship, looking out at it all, feeling it all.

Waiting …

This was the calm before the storm and he knew it. The only question was, what kind of a storm would it be?

Why did the Bom-Kats attack the second time?

That was the question that kept coming back to him. He could understand the first attack. They saw the old ship as easy pickings. But they were met with enough firepower to deter a small army. Still they came back again—and with a diversionary plan yet. And cameras.

Why?

After a lot of thought, Nolan knew there was only one explanation.

Gunner was suddenly beside him. He handed Nolan a cracked cup holding something warm and soupy.

“What’s this?” Nolan asked, trying to identify the steamy brownish liquid.

“It’s coffee and cheongju,” Gunner told him. “This is what the ship’s crew was drinking when we broke up their party. I found a little left in the pot.”

Nolan sipped it—it was awful.

“F*ck me,” he said with a grimace. “You sure this isn’t from a bilge pump somewhere?”

“It wouldn’t be this tasty if it was,” Gunner said, drinking a cup of his own.

They were quiet for a few moments. Nolan felt the cheongju making its way through his system. It had a slightly numbing effect.

“They know,” he told Gunner unexpectedly.

“Who knows what?” Gunner asked.

“The Bom-Kats,” Nolan said. “They must know we have a very special passenger on board.”

Gunner thought about it. “It would explain why they hit us the second time,” he said. “But how did they find out?”

Nolan shrugged. “We’ve been lax on security,” he said. “They were probably watching us through high-power binoculars, and after the first attack, she was up on deck when we should have kept her below. I’ll bet they started listening to our radio traffic after that and figured it out. Why else would they come aboard with cameras if not to take a picture of her in case they couldn’t kidnap her? As dopey as that sounds, I can’t think of anything else that makes sense.”

He wiped the sweat from his brow. “And that means they’re going to hit us again,” he went on. “They’ll try to roll over us, then take her and God knows what. Asking for a ransom will be just a small part of it, I’m sure.”

Gunner knew Nolan was right. “So what are we going to do when that happens?”

Nolan looked out at the motionless water and just shook his head. They were still chugging along, still trying to make it to the Lakshadweep Islands. But at the moment, they could have been halfway to Africa for all he knew. The ship’s condition was getting worse by the minute. The electricity was failing steadily. Every pump on board had stopped. The leaks below had become endemic and the remaining engine was close to its last gasp. And they were now battling a fifteen-percent list.

“We got to fight them off again,” he finally replied. “Somehow…”

“That won’t be easy,” Gunner said. “We’re just about out of ammo. Not just you, all of us. It could be a big problem.”

Nolan sipped his laced coffee again.

“Actually I think the biggest problem we have is below,” he said.

Gunner knew what he meant. Emma Simms. “If it dawns on her that she’s the cause of this…” he said.

“She’ll go nuts,” Nolan finished the thought for him. “Or get even nuttier.”

“If that’s possible,” Gunner said.

Nolan drained the last of his drink.

“I’ll bet in a million years she never dreamed she’d wind up here,” he said. “With us, with those poor people below, with a bump on her head or a lesion on her brain or whatever the hell happened to her.”

He threw his cup overboard.

“I guess being the world’s most famous movie star isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” he said.

* * *

THEY WENT UP to the bridge where they found the five Senegals. They were just as hot and exhausted as he and Gunner.

Nolan expressed his thoughts on the Bom-Kats’ actions. The Senegals could only agree.

“Le monde devient fou sur une belle femme,” one said.

The world goes crazy over one beautiful woman …

Nolan laughed grimly. He replied: “Toute ce qu’il faut est une…”

All it takes is one …

They spent the next few minutes taking inventory of their ammunition supply. The results were disheartening.

They had six M4s between them, all of them adapted to be belt fed. The problem was they had more empty belts than full ones. In all they had just 223 rounds. Split six ways, that was not a lot. In any kind of major firefight, 223 rounds could be gone in a matter of seconds.

Gunner’s ammo supply was especially low. He’d gone ashore at Gottabang with a full load in his Streetsweeper—but he’d expended 95 percent of his shells in the battle against the beach’s security forces and while repelling the first two pirate attacks. Now he had just three shells left, all of them of the incendiary variety.

Each man also had a Beretta sidearm—but there were no extra clips for them. And there were definitely no other firearms on the ship, nor were any of the Korean crewmen armed.

At the end of it, Gunner said, “We might be kinda screwed here.”

Nolan could only agree. “We’ve got to come up with some other kind of weapon,” he said. “Something outside the box.”

Gunner looked around the barren bridge. “Something like what? There’s not much of anything on this tub.”

Nolan asked one of the Senegals to retrieve the ship’s original crew. Within a minute, the four Korean sailors were on the bridge. Though they’d stayed in the mess hall with Emma and the ninety-nine refugees during the previous two attacks, after viewing the aftermath of those battles, they were well aware what Alpha was capable of.

Yet, they were hardly soldiers, and when Nolan told them he thought the pirates were going to attack again, the Koreans became very nervous. Then Nolan asked them: Were there any other weapons aboard the ship? Anything at all?

The crew members settled down enough to think. Through hand signs and rough English they confirmed there were no guns aboard. Nothing along those lines.

But maybe …

The four men disappeared below deck, but within another minute, two were back. They were carrying a bucket filled with a thick red liquid.

Though it looked like blood, Nolan recognized it as hydraulic fluid.

The sailors explained that in one of their last bits of duty, on the day before the ship was due to be broken, they had drained all hydraulic pipes on board, simply to save the workers on the beach from doing the messy job. The fluid itself had been poured into empty diesel barrels; four were now located in the ship’s cargo hold.

But what good would this be?

“Make hot,” one of the crewmen said. “Dump on bandits. Burn skin…”

Nolan looked at Gunner, who just shrugged.

“Boil that stuff up and pour it on someone coming up a ladder?” he said. “Could be nasty.”

The other two Koreans arrived. They were carrying a box containing an array of kitchen knives, ranging in size from a dinner knife to a butcher’s cleaver to something that resembled a cutlass.

A chill went through everyone on the bridge. If a fight ever came to the point of using some of these things as weapons, then it really would be a battle for their lives.

Nolan started to thank the Korean sailors, but then each one took a couple long knives and put them in their belts.

Again through rough English one explained: “This is still our ship. This time, we will stand and fight with you.”

* * *

NOLAN DRAGGED HIMSELF to his feet and left the bridge. There was something else he had to do. He had to talk to Emma.

He went below, hoping to find her asleep. Like the rest of them, it seemed as if she hadn’t stopped moving for more than a few minutes since they’d embarked on this bizarre voyage.

He headed to the mess hall where most of the Gottabang refugees were sleeping on cots and blankets. Nolan had spent a good deal of his adult life killing people. Throughout his years in Delta Force, on both large and small ops, and then in his second career hunting down pirates, there had been only one objective: Get rid of the bad guys.

Now, he was realizing that saving lives actually took a lot more energy than taking them.

He went through the mess hall, but Emma was not there. He walked past the ship’s tiny sick bay, but she was not there either. He finally went to the makeshift hospital they’d set up in the ship’s galley. This was where he found her.

She was sitting in the corner with an infant in her arms, frantically applying cold water to the baby’s forehead. The baby was crying, but even as Nolan approached he could tell its cries were getting faint.

Emma would not give up, though. Water to the forehead, slipping bits of food between the lips. Hugging the infant, rocking back and forth, she was trying to keep herself together and save the child at the same time.

But it was not to be.

The infant let out a weak cough, and then stopped crying for good.

Emma didn’t want to accept it. She continued to hold the child close, in whispers imploring it not die. But it was too late. The spirit had passed. Nolan had seen many things in his adventuresome lifetime. But this might have been the saddest thing of all.

He waited a respectable amount of time, then took the infant from Emma’s arms. He walked back to the mess hall and returned the child to its mother.

Then he went back to Emma. She was collapsed against the wall, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Nolan put his weapon aside and sat down beside her.

“I wanted them all to survive.” She started sniffling. “It was so important that none of them die.”

“All of those people would have died if you hadn’t saved them,” he told her. “You have to think of the others who are still alive. You’re their guardian angel.”

She looked up at him with her huge blue eyes. All her makeup was gone by now, yet Nolan realized she was even more beautiful without it.

“Do you really think that?” she asked him tearfully. “Do they really think of me as their ‘guardian angel?’”

He smiled at her. It had been so long since he’d smiled for any reason, it almost hurt.

“I’m sure of it,” he said.

Suddenly, she was embracing him tightly.

“I’ve been such a fool my whole life,” she said. “And I know I can never make up for it.”

He was frozen on the spot, at a loss for words.

“You’re just a kid,” he finally sputtered. “You’ve got a long way to go.”

This made her laugh. And he began to hug her back.

That’s when the Senegal came into the room—the same one as before. The bearer of bad news. But he didn’t say anything this time.

He didn’t have to.

Nolan just looked at him and asked: “Ils sont à venir?”

The man nodded grimly.

They were coming again.…

* * *

NOLAN RAN UP to the main deck, jammed on his battle helmet and pushed his night-vision telescope into place.

He looked to the east and saw lights that stretched almost horizon to horizon, all of them heading for the Taiwan Song.

Gunner was soon beside him.

“There’s a lot more of them than the last go-around,” he said to Nolan. “They must have gotten some new recruits.”

Nolan nodded. “If they’re here for the reason we think they are, they probably had no problem picking up new blood. There’s hundreds of small pirate bands up and down this coast that would be more than willing to help them out for a fee.”

Nolan zoomed in on the fleet and could see the Bom-Kats’ distinctively shaped boats and billowing deck flags. There were at least three dozen speedboats heading their way, each one carrying at least a half dozen pirates.

“How much time do you think we have before they get in range?” he asked Gunner.

“They’re moving pretty quick,” Gunner replied, adjusting his own night-vision goggles. “I’ll say five minutes. Maybe less.”

Nolan had to think fast, not easy to do with no food or sleep in almost three days. He let out a high whistle; this brought the Senegals up on deck with him. The ship’s Korean crewmen were close behind.

The sheer size of the approaching flotilla left no doubt this would be an all-out assault. So, Nolan had to come up with a defensive plan, making sure it was workable but also as simple as possible.

It took a couple minutes, but finally each man knew what he had to do. The situation was so desperate, though, they could not afford to send one of the Senegals back down to protect the people in the mess hall. Everyone who could shoot a weapon or wield a knife would be needed up top.

Gunner divided up the ammunition. Each Senegal got forty rounds for his M4. Nolan was left with twenty-three. They all had huge Beretta handguns as well, with eight-round clips. Basically their last ditch weapon, they would have to make every bullet count with these, too.

Each Senegal then took a carving knife from the box of cutlery the ship’s crew had uncovered. Using wads of duct tape, they attached the knives to their M4s like bayonets. Then Nolan assigned them positions around the ship: one Senegal at the bow, two at the stern, one amidships starboard and one amidships port. He and Gunner would fill the gaps at the railings on either side of the bridge.

Nolan checked the approaching fleet again and then took one of the steak knives himself.

He was sure of only one thing at that moment: Two hundred and twenty-three bullets would not be enough to win this battle.

* * *

NOLAN HURRIED BACK down to the galley.

Emma knew what was happening, just by the look on his face. He got her back to the mess hall and told her to put all the refugees in one corner, turn out the lights and not move until someone came for her.

“These people are depending on you,” he said. “Stay with them, keep them safe.”

He started to go, but she grabbed his hand, stopping him. In the dim light of the passageway just outside the mess hall door, she looked up at him, but didn’t say a word.

If this had been a movie, they would have kissed here. But it didn’t happen. Nolan simply brushed her cheek, catching a tear just as it was rolling off.

Then he told her again: “Don’t move until one of us comes for you.”

He gently nudged her into the mess hall and closed the flimsy panel door. He waited until he heard her lock it from the inside. Then he looked down at the threshold and saw the light go out.

He took the added measure of killing all the lights in the passageways around the mess hall, hoping to discourage any pirates who might actually get aboard the ship, the ultimate nightmare scenario.

Then he ran back up on deck.

* * *

HE FOUND GUNNER at his position, port side next to the bridge. He was checking over his Streetsweeper. Again, the bad news was he had just three explosive projectiles left.

“More than anyone, you’ve got to be smart in how you use those,” Nolan reminded him.

They looked out on the water. The Bom-Kats were only about a mile away and closing fast.

“Roger that,” Gunner agreed grimly.

The four Korean sailors reappeared on deck. They had something rarely seen on a ship: a wheelbarrow. Two of them, in fact.

They explained that while getting the Taiwan Song ready to be broken, they’d used wheelbarrows to dump debris ripped from the walls over the side.

Now the wheelbarrows could be used for another purpose. The sailors had carried the four barrels of hydraulic fluid up to the deck. They’d also put a fifth empty barrel right behind the bridge, along with some mop buckets. They indicated they were ready to do their part.

Nolan took assorted trash from the bridge and threw it into the empty barrel. Then he told the crewmen: “OK, let’s light a fire in here.…”

But the four sailors hesitated. Intentionally lighting a fire aboard a ship was not only dangerous, it was considered the height of bad luck.

“It’s OK then,” Nolan reassured them. “I’ll do it.”

Once the fire started, the sailors put a brace across the barrel from which a pail full of hydraulic fluid could be hung and heated up. The wheelbarrows were placed nearby, ready to transport the hot liquid once it was bubbling.

Inside a minute, the crewmen had one bucket of the fluid already starting to percolate.

“Hot quick,” one sailor said, pointing to the boiling liquid.

“But once we start, you must keep it coming,” Nolan urged them.

The four men understood right away.

“Count on us,” one said firmly. “We stand with you.”

* * *

THE PIRATE FLEET began to split up about a quarter mile off the Taiwan Song’s stern.

Nolan had climbed halfway up the ship’s forward mast by this time. With his night-vision telescope turned up to full power, he counted thirty-eight speedboats in the pirate fleet, along with three larger vessels. These were dhonis, traditional Indian fishing boats. They looked like diminutive Viking ships, about twenty-five feet long, with a large engine and stack at the rear, a small-enclosed bridge at the front and a sail in the middle. Like everything Bom-Kat, they were intricately constructed and had many flags adorning their masts and aft sections.

The divided fleet began moving up on either side of the old freighter, just out of the M4’s range. With this maneuver, the pirates’ strategy was confirmed. This was going to be a mass attack, an assault from all sides.

Nolan yelled to those below to get ready. Then he tried studying the trio of dhonis accompanying the fleet. His instincts told him one must be the pirate commander’s ship. If so, would sinking it affect the coming battle? Possibly … But which of the three was it? Alpha Squad had only so much ammunition, and Nolan didn’t want to waste even a single round shooting at the wrong target.

He yelled down to Gunner, asking if he could guess which dhoni was the command vessel. But he was as much at a loss as Nolan.

“No idea,” he yelled back up to Nolan. “And one in three ain’t good odds at the moment.”

The speedboats began revving their engines. Some started circling the freighter; others began closing on it. The pirates were making their move.

Nolan tightened his battle helmet. His clothes still smelled faintly of Emma’s perfume.

This was all about her, he thought once again.

He was sure of that now.

* * *

THE ATTACK STARTED at exactly 0300 hours.

There was no diversion this time; none was needed. The reinforced Bom-Kat force hit the Taiwan Song from all sides, en masse, even as it puttered along at barely five knots. The pirates had a simple plan, too: brave the gunfire, get on board the ship and overwhelm the vessel’s defenders with sheer numbers.

The pirates began throwing up rope ladders all over the ship; their grappling hooks made a distinctive clang when they hit the deck railings. It sounded like dozens of out-of-tune church bells going off at once.

Standing fast in their positions around the deck, the ship’s defenders watched all this unfold. Of the seven men of Alpha Squad, six had pistols and a combat weapon with a long carving knife attached. Gunner was the exception. His Streetsweeper was not conducive to holding a bayonet, makeshift or otherwise. So in addition to his Beretta and oversized shotgun, he’d armed himself with the largest piece of cutlery on the ship.

The idea was for them to use the knives to cut the rope ladders off the railings before the Bom-Kats could climb up. This way Alpha could still fight off the pirates while saving their precious ammunition until they really needed it.

But Nolan quickly found it would not be as easy as that. Not ten seconds into the attack, a rope ladder clanged onto the railing right in front of his station, which was starboard side, next to the bridge. The hook grabbed on tight and began jerking with the movements of the pirates climbing up.

Like the others, Nolan had used duct tape to attach his carving knife to the end of his M4. Again, by positioning it like a bayonet, he hoped he could both defend himself and slice through the attackers’ rope lines. But in his plan, he’d been expecting the Bom-Kats’ ladders to be made of something like heavy clothesline, as they’d been in the previous attack. This time, though, the ladders were made of substantial hemp twine, at least four inches around and heavily braided. Just one look at it told Nolan there was no way he could quickly slice it in half. Instead, he would have to cut through it with his makeshift bayonet like a saw cutting through wood. But as soon as he started doing this, the duct tape holding the knife to his gun barrel began coming loose.

Meanwhile, the first pirate climbing the rope ladder was just a few feet away from him. Nolan had no choice but to pull out his Beretta and shoot the man between the eyes. He didn’t even stop to watch him fall. Instead, he pulled the carving knife off his M4, threw the rifle aside, and with both hands, began frantically cutting the rope beneath the large grappling hook.

He was still sawing away when a second pirate neared the top of the ladder. Nolan had to shoot him as well. He fell away, only to be replaced by a third pirate who Nolan also had to shoot, all while still trying madly to cut the rope.

By the time a fourth pirate neared the railing, the weight on the weakened twine had become too much and snapped on its own, taking him and several more pirates down with it, much to Nolan’s relief. But he’d used three bullets from his pistol just to defeat this first tiny group of Bom-Kats—and under these conditions that was way too much ammo to expend. Even worse, when he looked at the carving knife, he realized that trying to cut through the thick hemp had bent and dulled the blade considerably. And a moment later, another hook clanged onto the railing in front of him.

This time he attacked the rope with verve, sawing away as he anxiously eyed six more pirates climbing toward him. But the knife just could not do the job fast enough, so Nolan had to use his Beretta once again and shoot the pirate at the top of the ladder, as well as the attacker behind him. Only then did he manage to cut the second rope to the point where it finally snapped on its own, sending the rest of the pirates back into the sea. But no sooner had this rope ladder fallen away, when another hook clanged onto the railing nearby.

This was getting very crazy very quickly. Suddenly everything was moving too fast. The pirates were screaming like madmen. Their comrades circling in the speedboats were blowing air horns. Somewhere, fireworks and flares were being lit off, weirdly illuminating the night sky. And Nolan had already used more than half his pistol’s ammo supply and he had ruined the all-important knife as a cutting tool—and the battle wasn’t even two minutes old.

Even worse, he could see the same thing was happening all along the railing. There were Senegals to the right and left of him and it was apparent their knives just couldn’t cut through such thick rope either. He was also hearing lots of gunfire. Valuable ammunition was being used to repel the first couple minutes of the assault. Definitely not part of the plan.

As before, he had to shoot the first two pirates coming up this third ladder, then saw away at the grappling hook’s rope until the weight became too much and it snapped. It was harder this time though, as the knife was practically useless; it took so long, the third pirate in line came within an inch of grabbing Nolan before he had to shoot him, too.

But even as he tumbled way, Nolan noticed something else was going on here. The blind ferociousness of the attack told him the pirates were most likely on methamphetamines or maybe Indonesian Ecstasy, which was a combination of several highly toxic stimulants. This was no surprise. But he also realized the attackers were armed only with knives. Why no firearms? There was only one reason. The pirate commander didn’t want his men to leave any weapons on board the lightly armed ship should they be killed or captured. In other words, Alpha’s earlier instincts had been right. The Bom-Kats had done some recruiting and this first wave of pirates, probably all new members, was simply fodder meant to wear down the ship’s defenders without giving them any more firepower. The problem was, it was working.

Amid the growing confusion, Nolan spotted one of the dhonis coming up close to the freighter’s starboard side. He could see a large man dressed in blue sea camos and lit by a flashlight standing on the bridge, yelling into a walkie talkie. Was this the pirate commander? Was he directing the attack?

Nolan only had a few seconds to yell over to Gunner about this when another rope ladder clanged onto the railing in front of him. There was so much noise and chaos, Nolan was sure Gunner hadn’t heard him. Yet a moment later, the telltale streak of a Streetsweeper incendiary projectile flashed high over his head, zooming up at an insanely steep angle before coming down squarely on the bridge of the dhoni.

It was a tremendously lucky shot—and it caused a tremendously loud explosion. Gunner’s projectile had hit ammunition stored on the boat’s bridge, setting it off like a mini A-bomb. The dhoni came completely out of the water and broke in two before slamming back down again. It quickly sank beneath the waves, leaving only a trail of smoke in its wake.

And suddenly, everything just stopped. The explosion froze attackers and defenders alike. But not for long. Because just like flipping a switch, the attack instantly resumed its ferocity. Nolan banged his fist against his helmet. The meaning was clear: They had sunk the dhoni, but it probably wasn’t the one carrying the pirate commander.

Now Nolan began hearing snapping noises all around him. He looked up from yet another frenzied rope cutting to see orange streaks coming at him from all directions. Tracer rounds … meaning another element had been added: Those pirates circling the freighter in speedboats were now shooting at them.

Taking cover as best he could, Nolan continued cutting through his fourth rope ladder. But again, it was too slow and the knife too dull, so he had to fire his Beretta twice to shoot the first two pirates before the rope gave way.

And with that last shot, the Beretta’s clip popped out.

Nolan couldn’t believe it.

The weapon he’d meant to hold in reserve was already empty.

* * *

TWENTY-FIVE FEET DOWN the railing toward the ship’s stern, one of the Senegals was also struggling with this new reality.

He’d managed to cut a half dozen of the rope ladders already, but his knife had become irreversibly bent. He’d emptied his pistol of ammunition, too, just like Nolan, and was loath to use his M4 rifle until he really had to.

But again, just like Nolan, he was close to being overwhelmed. Though so far only armed with knives of their own, the pirates looked and acted absolutely crazy.

Now, in just the span of a few seconds, two more rope ladder hooks clanged onto the railing in front of him. The Senegal somehow managed to cut through one ladder with his misshapen knife, but in the time it took to do this, a pirate coming up the second ladder had reached the railing and was climbing over it.

The Senegal quickly charged him with his twisted makeshift bayonet, startling the man even before his feet hit the deck. The bent knife went into the pirate’s chest, puncturing his heart. He crumpled backward, getting entangled with the top strands of the ladder and stalling the pirates climbing up behind him.

But when the Senegal went to pull his knife out of the dead man’s chest, it wouldn’t budge. The ball of duct tape holding it on the gun muzzle had gotten stuck in the man’s wound. The Senegal couldn’t even free the M4, that’s how jammed up it was. Now the Senegal was without any weapon at all and the two pirates behind the dead man were clutching at him like creatures from a monster movie, trying to pull him over the railing. The Senegal was sure he was doomed.

But then, above the chaos, the shouting, and the gunfire, the Senegal heard a strange rolling noise behind him. He turned his head just in time to see a pair of the Korean crewmen rushing down the deck with their wheelbarrow full of sizzling hydraulic fluid. The African soldier had just enough room to get out of their way as the Koreans, never breaking stride, raised the end of the wheelbarrow and poured the scalding contents onto the pirates still hanging on the rope ladder.

The screams were ungodly; they rose above everything else happening on the ship. Horribly burned, the pirates immediately fell back into the sea, making a terrible sizzling sound when they hit the water.

The Korean crewmen pulled the Senegal back from the railing, depositing him safely on the deck. They somehow retrieved his knife and rifle for him, then returned to their wheelbarrow intent on running back to their fire barrel to get more bubbling hot fluid.

But they quickly realized another pirate had climbed up another ladder behind them and was now blocking their path. They faced the brigand for an eternal second; he was just an arm’s length away. The Korean sailors had no weapons and this pirate looked especially crazed. He lunged forward with his knife, intent on stabbing one of the sailors in the stomach—but stopped in mid-thrust. Suddenly his throat began bleeding profusely. He fell to the deck at the Korean sailors’ feet, gurgling and dying. Standing behind them was the Senegal the Koreans had just saved, his bent and misshapen knife lodged in the the pirate’s neck.

The Koreans regained their composure, high-fived the Senegal, and then resumed their dash back to their boiling pot of oil.

“We stand and fight,” one yelled over his shoulder to the African. “We with you all the way.…”

* * *

THE FIGHTING WAS even fiercer on the port side of the ship.

Because the freighter was at a 15 percent list on this side, the pirates had a shorter distance to climb. So they had sent more men against it.

Gunner was doing his best to hold down his midship position. He’d fired his Streetsweeper just the one time, sinking the dhoni with a one-in-a-million shot—but it had little effect on the raging battle. He’d used his Beretta a few times as well. But mostly he’d been slicing through the rope ladders as planned, and not having such a hard time of it as everyone else. There were two reasons for this: he was a massive and muscular person, and he was armed not with a carving knife, but with a butcher’s cleaver. This and his pure strength had allowed him to cut down more than a dozen rope ladders so far, sending many Bom-Kats into the drink.

But still, the pirates kept coming.

Even now, not five minutes into the battle, as Gunner stopped to catch his breath and try to take in the situation around him, three more rope ladders clanged onto the railing nearby. He rushed over to the first one, and in just three swings of the cleaver, managed to cut it away. He reached the second ladder, punching the first pirate in line in the jaw before severing the rope with another trio of mighty blows.

But by this time, the pirates climbing the third ladder had reached the railing. In a display of crude, blunt force, Gunner managed to backhand the first attacker so hard it caused him to lose his footing. But in falling away, he completely missed interfering with the pirate next in line, and this man came over the railing with a vengeance.

Gunner managed to knock him down with a fist to his temple, but then a third pirate appeared and he, too, came over the railing. He helped his comrade to his feet and both turned to face Gunner, long razor-sharp knives held out in front of them.

Gunner’s cleaver was not much good here. He was swinging it wildly, but because he was forced back on his heels, it was almost impossible for him to get close enough to strike either pirate. Nor could he stop to pull out his Beretta. He had no choice then but to surge forward. He came at the pirates, all 300 pounds of him, still swinging the meat cleaver. And while missing the first pirate’s chest, by dumb luck he caught the second attacker on his hand, slicing through his palm and wrist, causing a stream of blood to gush out. When the man fell to the deck Gunner finished him off with a quick kick to the larynx.

The remaining pirate was stunned by his comrade’s sudden death; this gave Gunner the chance to back him up against the railing, knock the knife from his hand, and then drive the cleaver into his rib cage. The blow was enough to send the pirate back over the side.

While this was going on, Gunner saw something out of the corner of his eye. It was another of the pirates’ dhonis. It was coming up close to the ship, just as the first one had on the starboard side. In a flash of light, Gunner saw a clutch of people on its bridge standing around a man with a walkie-talkie. Some of these people were firing off flares; others were shooting AK-47s in the general direction of the ship. Maybe one of these guys was coordinating the attack.

He retrieved his Streetsweeper, leaned over the railing and without hesitation, let his second-to-last explosive shell fly. The projectile streaked through the smoke and sea spray, hitting the dhoni dead center on its engine cowling—and then bouncing off.

There was no huge explosion. The shell was a dud. But just by kinetic energy alone, the casing had severed the dhoni’s main fuel line, and sparks from the flares the people on the boat were firing off fell onto the leaking fuel—and that’s when the huge explosion came. There was a ball of fire, a second deafening bang—and then the dhoni was gone.

Gunner pumped his fist in triumph—but the celebration was short-lived.

Unlike after the first dhoni was sunk, the pirates didn’t stop for even an instant this time.

If anything, they began attacking the ship with renewed vigor.

* * *

NOLAN’S KNIFE WAS finally gone.

Bent, twisted and dull, he’d lost it somehow in the frenzy of the battle. His pistol, empty and useless, he had thrown away on purpose. His M4 was serving as little more than a battering club now, his allotted twenty-three rounds gone long ago. He had dispatched so many pirates by hitting them with the assault weapon’s stock his hands were bleeding from holding its slender barrel so tight.

How long had the battle been going on? He had no idea. A few minutes, a few hours? He really couldn’t tell. All he knew was that his plan to defend the ship was in shambles. Pirates were being killed. Their bodies were splashing into the sea with grisly regularity. The Koreans were running up and down the deck, their wheelbarrows sizzling, their hands horribly burned, pouring the flaming oil on the attackers whenever and wherever they could. And the Senegals that he could see were stabbing, slashing and simply manhandling a lot of the Bom-Kats back over the railing. But just like Nolan, they’d been forced to use their rifles, too—in fact the gunfire sounding out around the ship was nonstop now. Just what Alpha didn’t want to do.

And still, the pirates kept coming.

* * *

JUST A FEW seconds after Nolan had ducked away from another incoming barrage of tracer fire, he heard someone come up behind him.

He spun around ready to whack them with the butt of his empty M4 when he realized it was Gunner. He had scrambled through the bridge to get away from the fighting on the port side.

“It’s really bad over there,” Gunner managed to say. “They’re so many of them coming over the top now, we can’t stop them.”

Gunner was still holding his Streetsweeper and his cleaver. But blood was running down his right side. Nolan was stunned to see he had a serious wound on his shoulder.

They had to duck as another barrage of tracer fire crackled above their heads. Though the Senegals and the Koreans were still fighting pirates climbing up the sides of the ship, it was clearly a losing battle.

“Might be time to go to phase two,” Gunner yelled to Nolan.

Nolan grimly agreed. He let out a loud whistle. A predetermined signal, it cut through the sounds of the battle.

All at once, everyone fighting the pirates on deck pulled back, retreating to the forward cargo hatch. This was a ten-foot raised section of the ship located right behind the bridge. It had a stout safety railing around it and it gave an almost 360-degree view of the deck. It was a perfect fallback position to defend—though to Nolan’s mind, it was a little too much like the Alamo.

Only after all of the deck defenders had climbed up onto the forward hatch, did Nolan realize he was the only one among them who wasn’t wounded. Gunner had the huge gash in his shoulder and two of the Senegals were bleeding from stab wounds to their legs. Two other Senegals had head wounds, the fifth was bleeding from his chest. Even the four Korean crewmen had sustained wounds to their arms and legs, plus their hands had been burned from handling the hot hydraulic fluid.

The pirates were pouring over the railings now and heading for the small clutch of defenders atop the cargo hatch. Nolan had the Senegals kneel down and form a firing line. Then he and Gunner stood behind them. Nolan was now armed with Gunner’s Beretta pistol; it had just four rounds left. Unarmed and defenseless, the Korean sailors took cover behind him.

The first line of pirates advanced on the cargo hatch.

“On my call!” Nolan yelled above the din. “Acquire target—one shot only. Fire!”

The Senegals’ five M4s exploded at once, hitting five pirates closest to them.

“On my call!” Nolan yelled again. “Acquire—aim—fire!”

Again, another barrage spewed out from the M4s.

Five more pirates went down.

“Acquire! Aim! Fire!”

Another barrage came—then another and another. It went on like this for more than a minute. Every shot counted; every shot either killed or wounded a pirate.

But they still kept coming.

* * *

TWO OF THE pirates had avoided the chaos on deck and found their way below.

Both were veterans of the Bom-Kat gang. Though they’d been on ships like the Taiwan Song before, they’d never been part of such a huge seaborne assault as this. And unlike the recruits fighting up top, they were carrying AK-47s.

They were here for one prize only. Nothing on this bucket was of any value, except the blond beauty that Commander Kalish had spotted earlier. All the pirates, old-timers and newcomers, had been promised a hefty fee for capturing her and bringing her to Kalish.

Few of the Bom-Kats believed that it was actually Emma Simms on board, even though weird things did happen in this part of the world. But the most famous actress on the planet, being on a ship that looked like it was just minutes away from being cracked?

It didn’t make sense.

But the promise of a lot of money was hard to resist, especially for bandits like them who were used to being paid as little as $100 a month.

So, they pressed forward through the lower decks, looking everywhere, all the while aware of the sounds of fierce fighting going on just above them.

They came to a series of passageways where the lights were out. The pirates suspected a trap and started to reverse direction. But then they heard something that did not jive with the normal noises found on a ship or of the battle happening one level away.

It was a child crying.

Both men smiled darkly. If the famous blond was on this ship, and if this ship was also carrying other civilians, then it made sense that these noncombatants would all be hidden away in one place together.

The pirates ventured into the dark passageway, concentrating on the muffled wails. Creeping forward carefully, they eventually found themselves outside the ship’s mess hall. The plaintive cries were coming from within.

The pirates checked their weapons, then kicked the door in. It was dark inside, but they found the lights. Though dim, they provided enough illumination for the pirates to see a group of about a hundred people, huddled in one corner of the hall. Women and children mostly, they were all crying and shaking with fear.

And in the middle of them was the most famous actress in the world.

The pirates would have known her anywhere. Both had seen her movies, albeit on crudely copied bootlegged DVDs. And though she was ruffled and devoid of makeup or styling, she looked more beautiful now than ever.

One of the pirates spoke a little English. Still not quite believing this was Emma Simms sitting in the smelly mess hall of the worst ship afloat, he said: “Princess, come with us, or everyone dies.…”

Emma didn’t hesitate. She knew she was the reason everyone was fighting. And logic said, if she were removed from the equation, then the pirates might stop attacking the ship and maybe leave everyone else alone.

But … was this a logical situation? She didn’t know.

Nevertheless, she disentangled herself from the hands and arms of the people who didn’t want her to go, and walked toward the pirates.

Despite the surreal circumstances, the two brigands were in awe of her. Her beauty, her grace, even in this repugnant place. It was remarkable.

The pirates briefly considered sexually assaulting her. When would they have this chance again? But Commander Kalish was positively obsessed with this goddess and he would have them painfully killed if he found out that they had touched her before he had. So they dismissed the idea quickly.

Instead they told her to put up her hands and continue walking slowly toward them. One pirate removed his belt, ready to tie her hands behind her. They both took a deep sniff and smelled her perfume.

Yes, they had seen her movies. The love stories, the serious Shakespeare role and the action flicks. But as beautiful and graceful as she seemed, Emma Simms had another thing going for her. While she rarely did her own stunts, she’d seen plenty of real stunt people in action. Plus she’d been training, taking jiujitsu, karate, sambu and even some kung fu, so that someday, she wouldn’t need any body doubles.

That’s why neither pirate knew what hit him. One moment they were about to make her their prisoner, the next they were being hit in the face, the stomach, the groin. She was suddenly not the graceful, helpless American blonde anymore. Instead she was a whirling dervish of fists, knees and feet.

Both men were immediately knocked to the deck, losing their weapons in the process. Emma stood over them, as surprised as they. Then two more kicks, one to each man’s temple, and they were out for good.

Emma retrieved their weapons. She gave one to the most able male in the group and told him to stay put, and protect the others if any more pirates came to the mess hall.

Then, she slipped out the open door, alone.

* * *

ALPHA SQUAD WAS almost out of ammunition.

The Senegals’ firing line had delivered twenty-two fusillades, killing and wounding so many pirates, their bodies were stacked like cordwood atop the raised cargo hatch.

Using Gunner’s Berretta, Nolan had added to the systematic barrage. But now, with each Senegal only having a few rounds left, they were all firing at will and making sure their last few bullets went where they counted.

As all this was happening, Nolan and Gunner spotted a third dhoni coming close to the freighter’s port side. No words were needed this time. Gunner immediately aimed his bloodstained weapon over the mass of pirates and fired his last shell. The dhoni was so close he couldn’t miss. The projectile passed through the boat’s exhaust pipe and into its power plant. Once again, there was a spectacular explosion. The engine split in two and the boat’s fuel tank caught fire. The dhoni was instantly engulfed in flames, sinking quickly under a massive cloud of steam.

It was hard for Nolan and Gunner to tell whether it was because they might have finally iced the Bom-Kats command ship or that the Bom-Cats were simply switching tactics, but as soon as the third dhoni went down, the number of pirates coming over the railing stopped.

The Bom-Kats’ plan now seemed to be to let their new recruits finish off the ship’s defenders and then let their gunmen, the majority of whom were still on the speedboats, take over the ship at their leisure.

The Senegals expended the last of their ammo when a large group of pirates charged the Alpha position. The advance was stopped in its tracks, but that was it—all of Alpha’s ammunition was gone. Gunner and the Senegals began battering the pirates with the butts of their assault weapons. The fight spilled off the cargo hatch and onto the deck just below the bridge on the starboard side. Here, the hand-to-hand combat quickly became vicious.

Nolan put the last bullet from the borrowed Beretta into the chest of a pirate who had climbed the stern cargo mast with ideas of swinging down on the firing line. Nolan then reached into the box of galley knives, pulling one out that looked like an old-fashioned cutlass. He cut a cargo rope and used it to swing down onto the deck, landing on top of the mass of Bom-Kats who were fighting Gunner and the Senegals. He knocked over the pirates like bowling pins.

While the attackers were temporarily sprawled on the deck, Nolan had time to push the Korean crewmen up onto the bridge. With their horribly burned hands and other wounds, they could not help any longer. Two of the Senegals were also badly wounded; they, too, were hoisted up onto the bridge.

That left just Nolan, Gunner and the three lesser-injured Senegals battling for their lives.

About two dozen pirates were still fighting. They were jammed on the starboard deck; Alpha Squad was holding their ground just to the left of the bridge ladder. The pirates’ goal was the bridge itself; everyone knew once they seized it, this little war would be over.

The pirates were charging the defenders in fits and starts, trying to slash at the squad members who beat them back with their rifle butts, or stabbed them with the galley knives. Particularly ghastly was the way those pirates unlucky enough to go down near Gunner were dispatched. The big man was still armed with his meat cleaver and he was slashing away at anything that came close to him.

It was brutal and barbaric and endless, and by far, the worst combat Nolan had ever been in. His hands were covered in blood; some of it was his, and some of it belonging to the pirates he’d stabbed. His muscles ached so much from swinging the heavy cutlasslike knife, he was reaching his breaking point. The big knife felt like it weighed a ton.

Making the situation even worse, while the Koreans had abandoned using the burning hydraulic fluid as a weapon, one last pail had been left over the fire barrel. It was sending out billows of acrid smoke, saturating the deck area, making it hard to see and even harder to breath.

Nolan actually thought: Maybe I shouldn’t have lit that fire on board. It had been nothing but bad luck ever since.

It was inevitable, but the tide of this desperate battle finally turned in the pirates’ favor. Nolan could barely lift his arms. Gunner and the three Senegals were struggling just to stay on their feet. Out of the corner of his good eye, Nolan saw two pirates break off from the main group and disappear from sight. They were obviously sneaking around to attack the squad from the rear, but there was nothing Alpha could do to stop them.

Nolan summoned up one last burst of energy and slashed three pirates enough to push them back. Gunner joined in the thrust and the remaining dozen or so pirates were momentarily stopped from advancing.

But then Nolan heard cries from behind them. He looked over his shoulder to see that, sure enough, two pirates were coming at them from the other direction.

Two things went through his mind at that moment. He was sure the toxic fumes were making him delusional, because he found himself thinking back to when he’d brushed the tear from Emma’s cheek. It seemed like a million years ago. He could still smell her light perfume as well. And for some reason, these two things made him want to just lie down right there and go to sleep.

Then a voice in his head whispered: “You’ll sleep for a long time soon enough.”

So now he just waited for the blow. A knife to his back or to his chest. It didn’t make much of a difference. This was where it was all going to end—defending a bunch of dying refugees on the worst ship afloat, somewhere in the middle of the Indian Ocean.

But … that grim fate was not to be. Because, as it turned out, a guardian angel was watching over him.

Nolan turned to confront the pirates coming up in back of him—a last ditch attempt to simply face his killers—when he saw them stop in their tracks and look down at their chests. Bubbles of blood had appeared all over them.

The next thing Nolan knew, Gunner had slammed him to the deck. He hit hard, and the three Senegals fell on top of him; he felt like they were crushing every vertebra in his back. But in all the confusion, Nolan was still able to see the remaining pirates they’d been battling in front dropping to the deck as well. They, too, were bleeding. They’d all been shot dead. But who was doing the shooting?

Nolan’s head was spinning. His lungs were full of toxic smoke. His hands were splattered with blood and he felt half dead already.

But he somehow mustered the strength to turn his head and look behind him again.

That’s when he saw Emma Simms standing up on the bridge, a smoking AK-47 in her hands.