She grabbed a QuikClot from her tactical pouch and staunched the blood flowing from his head wound.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Another guard, probably checking on the first one who hadn’t returned. They eased the door back open. Johansson fired off two shots, but the kidnapper had ducked around the corner, scrambling down the hallway.
“We’re blown. Let’s move.”
The dead kidnapper’s radio buzzed. Yelling in Spanish.
She pressed the code to let the team know they’d been exposed.
A faint hint of smoke wafted up her nose, setting off her internal alarm.
“Fire.” Johansson protected them from the hallway.
“Let’s get you out of here, Captain.” She helped Magnusson stand. He was unsteady, but the determined look in his eyes comforted her. She used a water bottle from her pack to soak some gauze. “Here, breathe through this.”
They hurried into the thirty-foot corridor. Smoke billowed at them from the right.
“This way,” Johansson said.
They retraced their steps, headed for the exit door on the left, but loud footsteps pounded down the stairs straight for them. Shouts in Spanish. Definitely not team members. They were forced to retreat toward the smoke. A piercing mechanical wail flooded the hallway. The fire alarm. Shots slammed into the steel wall near them. They dove behind the corner. Johansson signaled for her to find egress while he crouched low and returned fire with his MP5.
Thick, toxic smoke entered her lungs. She coughed, her bronchioles in spasm. The three of them were trapped.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rif held the garrote in his hands and stalked the first guard. Jean-Luc loomed behind the second one. They attacked simultaneously. Rif snapped the garrote around the kidnapper’s neck and tightened his hold. The man struggled for air, twisting and turning, his fingers prying at the wire, desperate to escape. Seconds later, the guard slumped to the ground, Rif softening his landing to avoid any unnecessary noise. Jean-Luc’s target was already incapacitated, sprawled near the helicopter’s tail rotor.
While his partner scanned the deck for potential threats, Rif slipped inside the Bell 206. Working quickly, he accessed the battery and detached it. Next he removed the tail rotor pedals and breakers. Now the kidnappers couldn’t use this bird to get off the tanker—but they might have another boat headed for the ship.
One beep sounded in his earpiece. Thea and Johansson. Another long beep. An endless beep. Shit. They needed help. He crept out of the helicopter with the battery and tail rotor pedals in hand, searching for somewhere to hide them. He spied a nearby cubby, lifted the cover, and slipped the parts into the empty space for safekeeping.
Scanning for threats, he analyzed the layout of the tanker. Thea and Johansson were searching the cabins below for Christos. The closest stairs were located near the stern. He signaled for Jean-Luc to follow, then headed in that direction.
A loud alarm howled. Smoke drifted out of the staircase. What was happening?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Thea ripped off her jacket, wrapped it around one hand, and smashed through the glass to access the fire extinguishers. Smoke burned her eyes and lungs. The acrid taste of ash filled her mouth. Large bundles of what looked like burning laundry were strewn about the hallway. The kidnappers knew they’d been boarded, and they were trying to smoke out the intruders . . . literally.
Shots slammed into the opposite corridor. She tossed one extinguisher to the captain and grabbed the second one for herself. Pulling the pin, she sprayed the flaming piles of fabric while Johansson fended off their attackers with his M5.
Air—she needed air. She placed a hand against the wall and choked in a breath. Only two piles still burned. She blasted more fire retardant onto the flames.
She heard a loud grunt. Visibility was poor, so she moved down the corridor, keeping a hand on one wall, until she reached Johansson. A shot had pierced his left shoulder.
“I’ll take over.” She propped him against the wall and tossed him a QuikClot to slow the flow of blood.
“Fuck, do I have a bull’s-eye on my shoulders or what? At least it’s the left one this time.”
She fired down the hallway, nailing an approaching kidnapper, then moved behind the corner for cover. “Not sure how much longer we can ward them off.” With smoke on one side and gunfire on the other, they were in serious trouble.
Chapter Twenty-Five
In normal conditions, Rif would have slowed the pace, sniper-crawling along the deck to avoid detection, but Thea and Johansson had sent out a distress signal. Smoke billowed in large plumes from the nearby stairwell. They had to move quickly.