debris and an oil slick, but no ship.'
'I don't get it,' Austin said. 'SEALs are among the most highly trained special warfare people on the face of the earth. Boarding a potentially hostile ship is one of their specialties.'
'I'm afraid they ran into something they never trained for.' Austin noticed something in Ensign Muller's expression that he rarely saw in the face of a military man. It was the look of fear.
'I have the feeling that there is more here than I've been told. Maybe the captain can tell us about the attack.'
'I can do better than that,' Gutierrez said. 'I'll let you see it.'
THE SHAKY IMAGES on the video screen jumped spastically making it obvious that they had been shot with a handheld camera under unsteady circumstances. The camera showed three men seen from behind. They were wearing bandannas wrapped around their heads and automatic weapons were slung over their shoulders. The men were in a moving inflatable boat, and the scene rose and dipped with the waves as the boat approached a rusty freighter of medium size. A hard-edged voice could be heard over the buzz of the outboard motor.
'Approaching target. Heads up, boys, this isn't a joy ride. We'll try a false insertion to see if we can draw fire.'
The man closest to the lens turned and gave a thumbs-up. Then the picture froze.
Ensign Muller rose from his chair and stood beside the flat wall screen. He pointed to the dark-skinned man grinning into the camera lens.
'That's Sal Russo,' he said to Austin and the others seated in the room. 'Top-notch; savvy and tough as nails. Helped form SEAL
Team Six, the antiterrorism unit. Picked up a basketful of medals for his Persian Gulf service before mustering out to join Beck's company.'
'And that must be Captain Beck's voice in the background,' Austin said. He was seated in a folding chair next to Zavala and Gutierrez.
'That's right. Beck had a video camera on a chest harness. He used it as a training tool to show his teams where they made mistakes and what they did right. He was still wearing the camera when we plucked his body out of the water. Fortunately, it was in a waterproof housing. The picture gets a little jumpy from time to time, but it will give you a pretty good idea of what they encountered.'
Muller punched the resume button on the remote control and returned to his chair. The man on the screen came to life and turned with his back to the camera again. The buzz of the outboard ratcheted up several decibels, the bow lifted as the boat rose on plane and headed directly toward the boarding ladder that hung down the starboard bow. A hundred feet from the ladder, the boat veered off and sped away from the freighter.
'Attempt to draw fire was unsuccessful,' the voice said. 'Let's check out the name on the stern.'
The camera showed the boat coming around behind the ship, where the words CELTIC rainbow, and below that MALTA, were visible on the peeling hull. Then the boat moved alongside the larger vessel and headed back to the ladder. As they came up to the side, a man grabbed a rung and held the boat in place.
Everyone put gas masks on and two SEALs clambered up the ladder. The bow man pushed the boat off a few yards and brought his gun to bear on the deck, ready to pick off anyone trying to ambush the boarders. The two men climbed to the deck without incident. The point man waved the boat back in.
'Slick insertion with no resistance,' Beck said. 'Backup going in now.'
With the boat tied up to the ladder, Beck and Russo began to climb. There was a jumpy picture of the side of the ship and the microphone picked up the sound of heavy breathing. Beck's voice could be heard muttering, 'Getting too old for this crap. Puff. Hell of a lot more fun than sitting at a desk, though.'
The camera panned the deck to show the SEALs crouched low, weapons at ready. Smoke drifted over the deck from the billowing cloud. As set out in their preplan, Russo took one man and made a heads-down dash to the other side of the ship, and then they worked their way toward the stern. Beck and the other SEAL did the same on the starboard deck and the team rendezvoused at the stern rail. 'Port side's clear,' Russo said. He squinted at the smoke. 'Looks like the fire's going out.'
'You're right,' Beck said. 'Smoke is thinning. Remove your masks.'
The men did as ordered, tucking their masks into belt bags.
'Okay, let's check the bridge to see who's sending that message.'
The camera showed the men moving in leapfrog fashion, first one team then the others, so that the lead team was always covered. They climbed the companionways, pausing at each deck before going on, reaching the bridge wings with no incident.
The voice of someone calling 'Mayday' was coming through the open door of the wheelhouse.
Speed, surprise and stealth are the essences of a SEAL mission. Having to board the ship in broad daylight ruled out two of those elements, so they wasted no time outside the wheelhouse. The camera followed them in and Beck's voice could be heard saying, 'Good job. Hell. Damn place is empty.'
The camera showed a 360-degree sweep of the wheelhouse, and then Beck went over to the ship's radio. A hand, obviously his, reached out and picked up a tape recorder next to the radio's microphone. The Mayday message they had heard was repeating over and over. The hand clicked off the recorder and the Maydays stopped.
'Goddamnit!' one of the men said. 'What the hell's that stint^?'
Beck's voice could be heard in the background, calm but with an unmistakable sense of urgency, ordering his men to cock their weapons, stay sharp and make their way double time back to their boat.
Then the gates of Hades opened.
Someone or something launched itself through the door, shrieking like an angry banshee. Then came the thundering blast of a shotgun at close range. More shrieks and lunging bodies and the rattle of automatic weapons fire. There were blurred flashes of dingy white hair or fur and glimpses of faces out of a nightmare.
'This way, Captain!'
Chip Russo had his back to the camera, blocking out most of the picture. More gunfire and hideous screams. Then a whole series of blurred images.
Beck was out of the wheelhouse and appeared to be half-falling, half-climbing down the companionways. His breath was coming out in great hoarse gasps. Russo could be heard in the background yelling:
'Move it, Cap, move! I nailed one of the red-eyed sons of bitches, but they're on our asses.'
'My men '
'Too late Move. Aw hell.'
Another blast of gunfire. Then a man screaming.
Beck had made it to the main deck. He was running now, huffing like a locomotive climbing a steep hill, his boots pounding. He was near the bow within a few feet of the ladder.
There was an inhuman scream from off-camera. More white hair and lunging bodies, then another shotgun blast. A glimpse of luminous red eyes. Then a gurgle and whirling sky and sea. The screen went dark.
Austin broke the stunned silence that followed. 'Your video raises more questions than it answers.'
'Beck almost made it back to the boat,' Muller said, 'but someone or something ambushed him as he was about to climb down the ladder. When his body was found his throat, had been torn open.'
'Could you go back a few seconds in the video?' Zavala said. Muller complied. 'Okay, freeze it right there.'
The burning red eyes almost filled the screen. The image was fuzzy, but the vagueness didn't diminish the feral intensity. A silence ensued in the room, broken only by the hum of the ship's ventilator. Finally, Austin said, 'What do you make of this video, Ensign?' Muller shook his head like a man who'd been asked to explain the mysteries of the universe. 'The only thing I'm sure of is that Captain Beck and his men got themselves into a hell of a mess. Whoever, or whatever, ambushed them didn't expect to run into an armed SEAL unit.'
'My guess is that they intended to attack the Atlantis, but changed their minds after the fight with Beck and his men,' Austin said. 'That was my take on it, too,' Muller said.
Captain Gutierrez rose from his chair. 'I've got to get back to the bridge. You gentlemen let me know if there is anything further I can do to help.'
Austin thanked Gutierrez and, after he left, turned to Muller. 'I suppose you'll be going back to your ship.'
'Not quite yet. A relief vessel is coming in to stand guard duty. Should be here in a few hours. I've got time.
