Dead Reckoning (43 page)

In that moment, Mahmud Sajjadi emerged from the crowds and joined his father. As cheers drowned the spectacle, Shiloh went rigid at the sight of the man who’d brought her here, claimed to be an ally of the US and Britain. And they called her father the spawn of Satan?

“Together, they cannot stop us. Yes?”

She’d love to toss them into the deep sea with no nitrox and see how unstoppable they really were.

Sajjadi ordered his right-hand man—none other than Kodiyeri—to press her father to his knees.

“No!” Shiloh started forward, only to be restrained.

“And our night is even further blessed by Allah. We have the daughter of this pig, and she has agreed to help us, with a little encouragement.”

Laughter filtered through the crowds.

Shiloh speared Mahmud with a deadly glare. If only she had as much power in her glare as the nuke had in its belly.

“And now, after years of meticulous planning, it is on this night we set ourselves apart. Allah's Sword of Justice will be known throughout the world as a deadly force, one willing to obey the Prophet Mohammed, peace be upon him.”

“Peace be upon him,” those gathered repeated the blessing.

Sajjadi banged a fist against the table. “We will start with those who have embraced the Great Satan, who have compromised their faith for money,” he snarled.

The guard pushed Shiloh toward a large electrical panel.

Sajjadi slid a key into one access portal. His son slid a second into the other. “Let it be said,” he nodded to Shiloh.

Resisting the urge to look at her father, Shiloh shifted toward the instrumentation. Stemming the trembling in her limbs she reached for the keyboard.
Please, God, if you’ve ever been there … be there now. Let Reece find out what I’ve done.

Mahmud stood beside her and slid in another key, then prodded her. Swallowing, she entered the codes. And spotted a small hand-held device next to the panel. Numbers flicked down.
A timer.
Shiloh pressed the final key on the panel.

Whiiiirrrrrr-p.

Did he have another bomb? As the panel died and the screen went blank, Sajjadi's dark eyes widened. “Wh-what is wrong?”

Shiloh checked the hand-held. Still ticking.
Oh dear God …

Mimicking his father's response, Mahmud stepped back. “I don’t understand.”

She looked at her father. How could she let him know? She gulped. Glanced at the small device. Ten seconds had passed. One-hundred twenty remained. She darted a panicked look to her father.

“What have you done?” Sajjadi shouted at her.

Backlit by the sea, her father smiled. Good job, his expression said, echoed by the twinkling stars and the sparkling waters behind him. He nodded.

Crack!
Gunfire rent the air.

Her father's face went slack. He blinked and leaned forward, his mouth open. A dark circle spread over his chest. The suited guard leapt away from the unfolding nightmare.

Shock froze her—Sajjadi shot her father! As if in slow motion, Sajjadi turned toward her father once more.

Shiloh drove her elbow into the goon's stomach and sent him spiraling.

Sajjadi took aim.

Summoning everything she had left, Shiloh launched herself over the thin table and slammed into her father. He caught and held onto her. They dove over the rail.

Water gathered them into its dark, icy depths.

P
HEWT-PHEWT!

Reece caught the crewman as he slumped forward, drugged from the dart, and laid the body on the deck. Crouched, Reece placed two fingers against the man's neck as he watched Friction and Cole slip over the stainless steel rails along the port side. Beside him waited Ditch.

The distinct sound of something very large hitting the water drew him up.

Screams splintered the night. Shouts engulfed the chaos chased by cracking gunfire.

“Go, go, go!” Reece hustled down the starboard gangway with Ditch covering him. Cole and Friction worked port-side. The captain of
The Jannat
and his team would be held or neutralized, depending on their resistance, by Stick and Bronco.

Hunched beneath the wall of windows that lead into the main lounge and saloon, Reece eyed the back of the stairs. Guards could be waiting there. Most likely were.

A fluid signal sent Ditch darting up under the stairs. Reece whipped around to the front.
Thud!

“Tango down,” Ditch called.

Reece joined the man. M4 raised to the opening onto the upper deck, he took the first step up. Adrenaline spiraled through his veins with each squeak of his Deep Sea Amphib boots against the lit steps.

“Primary one in sight,” came Friction's smooth, steady warning. “Doesn’t have a clue we’re here.”

“Find and kill them!” Hours spent listening to recorded conversations embedded the coward's voice in Reece's brain—Sajjadi.

But why was he ordering his men to find them?

“We’re blown,” Ditch mumbled.

“Negative,” Friction said through the coms. “Guy's going ape trying to find someone. Stick to the plan. We’re—”

Phewt-phewt!

A grunt. “Now we’re blown,” Friction said.

Eyeing the layout, Reece saw the best point of cover— the bar, six paces past the stairwell. With a deep breath, he burst onto the upper deck. A spray of bullets whizzed over him. Ditch cursed as he slid into Reece behind the shield.

He raked a gaze over the man and spotted a slice just below Ditch's shoulder. “Already looking for a medal?”

Surprise danced through Ditch's brown eyes. Then he grinned. “Any I can.”

“Chief, he's comin’ your way.”

Reece drew himself into a crouch again, his ears trained on the crunch of glass that grew louder. One.

Crunch-click.

Two.

Crunch-click-click.

He punched to his feet bringing up his M4 as he did.

Sajjadi stepped back.

Two armed men rushed from the side. Fired.

So did Reece.

Fire tore through his shoulder, shoving him backward— Sajjadi seized the moment and darted around a half wall and vanished down into the lower deck.

Reece groped for stability. He blinked through the pain.

Someone steadied him. “Easy, Chief.”

“Stop him.” Reece caught the grab rail and dragged himself upright. In pain and losing blood, he went for the stairs. Stumbled down them. Tripped. But kept moving, following the shadows of Sajjadi's trail. “Lower deck. Primary One.”

“Roger, lower deck,” Cole called. “On our way.”

Propped against the entry that opened into a companion-way, Reece shrugged off the tingling in his arm. This wasn’t over until he found Jude. And Shiloh. “Crew's quarters.” With a huffed breath, he dropped down the stairs.

Clambering behind him told him of the team's presence.

“You’re hit.”

“He's down here,” Reece said, swiping at the dribble of sweat near his ear.

Friction eased forward and took point. It felt good but weird to work with another SEAL again. To operate with grace and automatic protocol without having to explain or direct. Respect sifted past Reece's suspicions of the squid as they cleared one cabin after another.

“Like a rat in a cage,” Friction mumbled as they worked their way toward the bow.

“Never did like rats.” Reece gritted his teeth, cringing over the blood that slid down inside his gear. The vest stopped him from getting killed but didn’t make him invincible.

Friction flung open a door.

The galley yawned before them, sterile and white. Pristine. Undisturbed. A half-dozen wide-eyed workers, panic streaked across their faces, stood to one side.

He's here.

“Rat stew.” Friction scissored in, his weapon sweeping the semi-cavernous room.

“Nobody move,” Cole ordered as the team spread out, taking a wide arc and slowly closing in around the two long stainless steel prep tables where the workers remained immobilized.

“Need him alive.” Reece backstepped toward an area where a mound of vegetables, bright and colorful against the sterility of the galley, sat before a young girl who held a large knife. Would she try to use that on the team?

“Easy,” he whispered as he gently lifted it from her grip.

She gasped.

Phewt! Phewt-phewt!

Reece pivoted at the sound of the muffled fire just in time to see Sajjadi flop onto the floor three feet away. Something clanged to the ground and spun. Stepping on it with his Amphib boot, he paled. A meat cleaver. A very large one.

He rushed to the terrorist and flipped him onto his back. A ragged breath wheezed through the man's chest. “Get the doc!” Reece pressed a hand against the wound to stem the flow of blood. “Where is she?”

Sajjadi's gaze flicked to Reece's. A crooked grin came as a stream of blood slipped over his lip and down his jaw.

“Where is she?” Reece growled, pushing hard against the wound.

Sajjadi gasped, gurgled. Laughed.

Rage coursed through Reece. If Sajjadi didn’t tell them, if he died with that knowledge, then Shiloh could die too. He hadn’t come this far to lose her!

Doc dropped to his knees and checked the injuries. “Doesn’t look good.”

Reece grabbed Sajjadi's uniform and jerked the man up. “Where is she?”

“Chief!”

“What did you do with her? Where's Shiloh?” He shook Sajjadi. Hard.

“Chief!” Doc clamped his hands over Reece's. “Let go. Him dying doesn’t help us.”

A hissing noise issued from Sajjadi. “You think”—cough— “you stop me.” He wheezed. “One last jihad! You won’t find it …” Cough. “Or her.” His eyes rolled into his head.

Finally, Reece released him.

“He's not dead. Just very, very close.” Doc unfurled his pack and went to work on Sajjadi. “You won’t be getting anything out of him for awhile.”

Defeat wriggled into Reece, painful and desperate. He stared at the general, disbelieving their one source—

“Wait.” Reece struggled to his feet. “Where's his son?”

“Upper deck.” Friction adjusted his black gloves. He pointed to Reece's shoulder. “Want to get that looked at?”

“I’m fine.” Chin tucked, Reece stumbled down the companionway, past the crew, over bodies. “Stick, Bronco,” he spoke into the coms. “Give me a sitrep.”

“What did he mean about one last jihad?” Friction asked from behind.

“The same thing the niggling in my gut means.” Reece pushed himself to the upper deck, listening to the chatter of the team calling off their sitrep.

“So you think there's something else?”

“Definitely. This was too easy.”

The twumping of choppers reverberated through the hull and cut their conversation. Right now, the only thing he
cared about was finding Shiloh and Jude. Knowing she was missing, knowing every second could be her last drove him crazy. As he dragged himself up the last flight, he ignored the grinding pain.

The dignitaries sat at the tables as if eating and enjoying a fine meal on the open sea. But their faces belied the calmness of the yacht. A giant, steel bird descended toward the helo-pad at the bow of the ship.

“Chief, over here.”

Pulled in the direction of Stick's shout, Reece spotted two boats out on the water.

Stick knelt beside Mahmud, bandaging his chest and side. Avoiding the dark stains on the deck, Reece drew closer.

Just then, he heard the familiar twang of a Zodiac boat on the black waters. Two splinters of light fractured the void. Long and shrieking, a whistle rent the night. A red tail snaked through the twinkling sky.
Boom!
A flare turned night into day.

“What’re they looking for?”

Stick straightened. “Jude and Shiloh.”

Bullets had nothing on the revelation. Reece stilled, his gaze back on the dark sea. “How long?” How long had she been out there?

“Then, fifteen minutes, maybe more.”

She would be fine. Excellent swimmer. Pro diver. Shiloh would be just fine.

“It gets worse.” Stick rustled his hair.

Darting a glare to the scrawny kid, Reece's heart churned like the Arabian Sea.

“Jude was shot point-blank in the chest. According to this guy here, Shiloh lunged at her father and they both went overboard.” The thin face looked taut. “Chief, he doesn’t have long. Not in this water.”

Shiloh. What was she thinking? He studied the waters, trying to replay the event in his mind. His attention plummeted to the blood on the deck. Jude's.
God, help me! Help Shiloh.

Friction leaned on the grab rails, watching the boats circling and probing the deep waters. “No way any normal person could survive that. Especially mortally wounded.”

No, Reece wouldn’t accept that. Shiloh had surprised him more than once. If she went into the water she saw that as her only hope. Rankled, he descended to the lower deck and strode toward the dive skiff .

But it didn’t make any sense. This far out and supporting her injured father she couldn’t swim to shore—a shore that was a solid five miles out. And what about sharks?

“Let's suit up.”

“Chief,” Friction said, catching his shoulder.

Reece nearly dropped from the blinding pain. He rounded on the guy.

Hands raised, Friction took a step back. “No offense, Chief, but you aren’t in any condition to dive.”

“I’m
not
leaving her out there.”

“They’re probably already dead.”

“No,” Reece snapped. He had no energy to fight with a man he didn’t know. A man who didn’t care about saving Shiloh. Jude … Jude might—probably was dead. But Shiloh had a chance.

“I can have you grounded.”

He jerked toward the SEAL, his mind and soul warring. Who was this man, who’d charged into the middle of this and tried to take over the mission? Didn’t matter. Reece wasn’t going to sit around while Shiloh drowned trying to save her father.

“Do what you have to.” He sat on the edge of the skiff . “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“That's my brother out there. Shiloh's my niece.”