Cruisin' For A SEAL: SEAL Brotherhood #5 (29 page)

And he’d planned it so he wouldn’t have to share that fat bank account with anyone. The bomb would go off in less than two hours and, as long as he wasn’t on the ship, the mission was a success. All he’d have to do in the future is threaten a takeover and they’d deposit any sum of money he asked.

When he got his funds he was going to buy himself a small country and the loyalty of its people. He had many prospects, but there would be time enough for that later, after the coffers were ripe and bursting with gold.

The $1 million helicopter set down exactly in the middle of the helipad’s painted circle. Wolf stepped out onto Deck 10, which was lit by a string of lights that went from bow to stern.

His overcoat was buttoned to the neck. Even off the coast of Africa, the dark night air was chilly, even though the ship’s engines had stopped was and the ship was merely drifting. Seeing stars this far out to sea was always a special treat for him, almost making him think of the supernatural powers some of his recruits thought he possessed. The knowing he had caused this giant ship to stop, had put so much fear into so many people, was extremely satisfying. He would have to confess he was actually giddy with pleasure.

One of his armed guards let him pass and opened the gate and stairway to the bridge.

Captain D’Ambrosini looked like a nervous wreck. He’d been held at gunpoint and was sitting in one of the two helmsman’s chairs at the con. His eyes didn’t focus on Wolf at first, but then, recognition flooded his face. D’Ambrosini shouted, “It is you!” and pointed, as if someone would step forward to arrest him.

“Now, Captain, please relax,” he said in Italian. He knew a couple of the mercenaries understood everything he said, but he wasn’t worried.

Though he was the captain, D’Ambrosini did not steer the ship. The helmsman usually stood at the wheel, leaving the captain free to supervise and move about the bridge, even attend dinners and parties. But today the helmsman sat idly by and watched the parade of individuals coming and going.

The Wolf gave his next instruction and waited for the import of his words to sink in. “You will now send the emergency distress signal.”

The radio room, located behind the bridge, was given the go-ahead. The chief radio officer came onto the bridge himself with his headsets on. “Sir? Am I to send any word, a message in addition to the distress signal?”

“Let them contact you. I’m sure they will.” Wolf told the radio operator.

Barely two minutes went by when the buzzing in the radio room began. The captain’s cell phone chirped, as did the first officer’s.

“Do not answer just yet,” Wolf said. “Let them wait exactly five minutes.” He checked his own sat phone.

One hour and forty-two to go.

“Where are your other officers, Captain?” he asked D’Ambrosini.

“I have no idea. Normally they would have checked in with me. I can only assume they’ve been detained,” the captain said in Italian.

“Where is Maksym?”

The captain shot a knowing look at Wolf. It had been at Wolf’s instructions the junior officer was hired.

“Not spoken to him since earlier this evening, since before we left port.”

Wolf looked out at the distant lights of the African shore, barely visible. “Time enough for that. Time enough.”

Wolf dialed a number and received an update. “And the women, they are dressed in orange?”

The captain and helmsman exchanged worried glances.

“The lights and video cameras are installed?”

Wolf noticed the captain was trying to send a text message from his cell phone.

“Give me that,” he demanded. The captain handed over his cell phone sheepishly. The screen read T Dominichello.

“So you dare lie to me, and attempt communication with Teseo. Where is he?” Wolf demanded, raising his voice.

“Somewhere on board. I know not where. Truly.”

“Then you will tell him to come to the bridge or your helmsman will lose his life.” He handed the captain back his phone.

The young Italian helmsman moved off the stool and stood with his back to the map desk. All of twenty-six, he’d been employed by the cruise line for barely two years, Wolf recalled.

The captain dialed Teseo’s number. Wolf grabbed the phone from his hands before he could warn Teseo.

“Yes Captain?” Teseo answered.

“Your presence is requested on the bridge, Teseo. If you are not here in five minutes, your helmsman will be shot through the head. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Si, si. This is—Lombardi?”

“Never mind who this is. I am in command of this ship now, and you will come to the bridge at once or your man here will have his brains spread all over the equipment. Don’t test me on this.”

“Si. I will be there.” Teseo hung up.

Wolf inhaled and savored the moment. “Now we call the company and let them know what troubles await them this morning.”

Kyle took the
call from Teseo, and then notified Nick and Grady that the time to take back the bridge was now, and promising that his troupe be up there as soon as possible. Moshe was being held downstairs in the jail, with just one guard. The three SEALs were hidden in a cabin that had been evacuated in a hurry earlier, and the door left open. It made good temporary cover for now.

Mark began to try to reason with Kyle. “You need to get back up there. Everything hinges on that bridge takeover, Kyle. Leave me here to take care of business,” Mark said to his LPO. “Take Armani, here, and go.”

Kyle hesitated for a second, and then agreed. “You get him out and get your butt upstairs.”

“I plan on it.”

Kyle and Armando quietly made their way down the deserted corridor to the crew stairwell and disappeared.

Mark could see the Israeli sitting on the padded bench, his cell phone chirping on the counter at the duty desk in front of him. The guard was making insulting comments to him.

“Your girlfriend says she needs to fuck, you little Israeli prick. She misses you, so she’s gonna go find a Russian to get the job done.”

He could see the panic on Moshe’s face. He looked literally green.

Mark got ready to dart across the hall when he heard heavy footsteps. Two new guards spoke Russian to their colleague and dragged him to the hallway tearing off down the corridor after Kyle and Armando. As an afterthought, the first guard turned back and fired a warning shot, which ricocheted off the bars, earning him yells from his colleagues. He grabbed Moshe’s phone and threw it against the wall, where it shattered. He pointed at Moshe. “Next time, your head.” Then he turned around and stormed out.

Mark was stunned. As he waited for them to leave, he texted Kyle to give him the heads-up on the men coming their way.

He ran into the hold and Moshe bolted upright, a look of relief plastered across his face.

“Where are the keys?”

“No keys. Requires a pass card.”

“Which I have right here,” Mark said and pulled one out of his vest pocket.

“Right now, American or not, I could kiss you, Marky Mark,” said Moshe.

“Kiss me after I get you out. What do I do with it?” He was looking at the door and couldn’t find a place for it to be scanned.

“On the wall. There is a monitor on the wall. You swipe it like a credit card after you punch in the number two, and then the code, are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“696969.”

Mark looked at him. Grinning. “That’s an interesting choice of numbers.”

“Do it, damn you! I’ll explain later,” Moshe yelled.

After the cell was opened, they checked the corridor and took off to the stairs. Up two floors they heard the spray of automatic gunfire. Mark gave Moshe his extra sidearm, hung back, angling, and when he got a shot, caught one of the men in the back just at the base of his skull. He fell into the stairwell.

They were sprayed with rounds for their trouble.

“Can’t stop, it’s all going down now,” Mark said.

All of a sudden another spray of automatic gunfire erupted and two more commandos fell down into the stairwell.

What Mark heard next was music to his ears.

“Mark!”

Sophia!

“On our way.”

They took two and three stairs at a time, made the three-floor distance in under a minute. He grabbed Sophia, who was bloody but looking pretty damned good, holding her in his arms.

Maksym barked at them, “We need to get to the bridge. Gina is with Armando and headed up there now. Kyle has gone down to the engine room. No time for that.” Maksym handed Moshe the extra automatic. Mark tried to give Sophia his Sig, but she scowled at him.

They exited Deck 6 and took the outside stairway to Deck 10 so they could see what was going on in the big arena one deck below. They opened the door and stopped in their tracks.

Christy, Mia and Jasmine sat in the center of the pool area, their restrained hands in front of them, wearing orange jumpsuits. The deck had been lit up for a celebration. The large screen monitor, which normally played Italian hip-hop and pop music showed the faces of the three women. A video camera was set on a tripod, manned by one of the Moroccans. Moshe swore under his breath in a language Mark didn’t understand.

He wondered if Armando had seen this, and then noticed a flicker of movement to his right, spotting Armando and Gina as they peered around the corner. The bridge would have to wait. Armando must have figured the ladies didn’t have much time and stopped to lend a hand. Teseo was probably being held inside, along with the captain, at gunpoint.

The rest of the SEAL ladies were in a second group of chairs tucked underneath the balcony, in the shadows. Among them was Libby, wrapped in a blanket, and Sanouk, holding her tight to his chest. Fredo and Jones were trussed up like turkeys, obviously being saved for the main course.

In an instant, Armando had his semi-automatic trained on a Moroccan gunman who raised a pistol to Christy’s chest some thirty feet away.

Armando let the round fly, and the gunman’s head exploded like a watermelon. Several soldiers guarding the rest of the prisoners made the mistake of leaving their cover, racing out into the open and attempting to return fire. They got sprayed with rounds from Maksym, Moshe and Mark’s automatics. They then trained their guns on several others, popped off some rounds. Moshe hit the videographer, sending the camera and tripod flying to the side. Maksym and Moshe headed through the double wooden doors to check for more combatants inside.

For a few seconds, everyone waited. Christy and Mia were kicking a combatant who was on the floor, and his weapon skidded along the surface of the pool deck until it landed at Devon’s feet. With both hands still secured, she picked it up and took a firing stance, looking like Nick or someone had been very smart and trained his woman.

Silence.

“I count ten down,” Mark said. “I have no idea if that’s enough.” He turned to Sophia, “You stay here and watch with Armando,” he said to her. “Stay in the shadows. I’m going up to the bridge to give Teseo and the captain a hand, if it’s not too late.”

Sophia nodded. Mark leaned over and gave her a long kiss. “You did really great, Sophia. You’re holding up like a champ. Like you were made for this.”

“Hardly. I’m a dancer, remember?”

“Oh, I remember, all right.” He winked at her, and then checked the single ramp of stairs leading to the bridge. He thought it was odd no one had showed up from the bridge itself.

Armando cut Fredo and Jones loose, which gave him two more sets of hands to free everyone else.

Mark layered one more kiss and pulled away from her.

Just then, the door to the bridge opened and a tall man in an overcoat walked outside with the captain, his arm around the captain’s throat, and a pistol to his temple.

Mark cursed that they didn’t have an accurate, high-powered rifle. The shot was definitely doable. Shots were being fired from multiple smaller boats that formed a dangerous flotilla around them. He could tell that if they didn’t get the situation under control fast they’d be boarded and everyone murdered, not to mention what would happen if the bomb went off.

Lights and rounds were going in all directions until he heard the welcome crack of a SEAL sniper’s long gun. The man who had terrorized the captain dropped, having taken a round at the top of his head that exited at his feet. The captain fell to his knees first, and then scurried to safety as the terrorist leader slumped in a pile of flesh and blood. Teseo appeared at the doorway next and gave him the all-clear sign, the thumb’s up and a big cheesy grin.

Mark looked up toward the night sky and saw one of their own. A Navy Seahawk that had come out of Heaven itself. He’d never seen anything so wonderful in his whole life. Then he realized that was what the boats had been firing at.

That meant there was a vessel out there in the dark that they could call friend.

He looked out over the now-calm deck and then got a text.

The bomb.

Of course, there was still a fuckin bomb to defuse.

Kyle’s next text nearly broke his heart.

Stay with the women, offload them if you can. In case I don’t make it, tell Christy I love her.

‡