frantically at the Savarona. 'They're getting away. We need to stop them.'
'We can't leave them here,' Karakas shot back, the scorn in his eyes barely disguised. 'Besides, that ship will never make it through this storm. The waves are too big. We need to get out of here as soon as we've recovered the divers.'
'No,' the monsignor snapped back firmly. 'Even if there's just one chance in a million that they'll make it out in one piece, we can't allow it to happen.' He stared sharply out the windshield, then turned back to face the stocky captain, his eyes gleaming with menace. 'Sink them.'
Reilly couldn't stand back any longer. He lunged at De Angelis, grabbing him and spinning him around heavily to face him. 'You can't do that, there's no—'
He stopped in his tracks.
The monsignor had pulled out a big automatic and shoved its muzzle into Reilly's face. 'Stay out of this,' he shouted, nudging Reilly back toward the rear of the cockpit.
Reilly stared beyond the cold steel barrel hovering millimeters from him and into De Angelis's eyes.
They blazed with murderous fury.
'You're outlived your purpose here,' the monsignor rasped. 'Do you understand me?'
There was such implacability in De Angelis's expression that Reilly believed he would pull the trigger without the slightest hesitation. He also knew that if he made a move on him, he would be dead long before he even reached him.
He nodded and eased back, steadying himself against the motion of the boat. 'Easy, now,' he said calmly. 'Easy.'
De Angelis kept his eyes locked firmly on Reilly. 'Use the cannon,' he ordered the skipper. 'Before they get out of range.'
Reilly could tell that Karakas was hugely uncomfortable with what was taking place on his ship.
'We're in international waters,' he objected, 'and if that's not enough for you, that's a Greek ship we're talking about. We already have enough trouble with—'
'—I don't care,' De Angelis raged, turning to face Karakas and waving his handgun furiously.
'This ship is operating under NATO command and, as the ranking officer, I'm giving you a direct order, Captain—'
This time, it was Karakas who interrupted. 'No,' he stated flatly, staring down De Angelis.
'I'll take my chances with a military tribunal.'
The two men squared off for a tense moment, the monsignor's right arm fully extended, his handgun squarely in the captain's face. To Karakas's credit, he didn't flinch. He just stood his ground until the monsignor thrust him aside, turned to Plunkett, and ordered him to watch them and charged for the door to the gangway. 'The hell with you,' he seethed. 'I'll do it myself.'
Plunkett moved into position, pulling out his own holstered handgun as the monsignor slid the door open. The gale-force wind blasted into the bridge. De Angelis steeled himself and stepped out into the raging storm.
Reilly darted an incredulous glance at Karakas just as a big wave slammed into the cutter broadside, rocking the bridge and forcing everyone on it to grab a handhold. Reilly saw the opportunity and took it. He bolted at Plunkett, getting to him just as the CIA operative was reaching out to steady himself against the console beside him. Reilly managed to block the hand that held the gun against the counter, while delivering a jarring uppercut that loosened Plunkett's grip enough for Reilly to wrangle the gun off him. Plunkett came back with a furious, wild swing, but Reilly blocked it and, without hesitating, swung the handgun at the killer, connecting with a savage blow across his forehead. Plunkett slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Reilly tucked the handgun under his belt, stepped past the captain, grabbed a life vest and frantically strapped it on, and followed De Angelis out.
The wind pounded him immediately, slamming him back against the pilothouse's wall like a rag doll. Reilly steadied himself and, pulling himself along the railing hand over hand, spotted the rain-lashed silhouette of the monsignor inching his way forward along the bulwark and heading inexorably for the foredeck, where the automatic cannon was mounted.
Shielding his eyes as he advanced, he glanced beyond the bow and glimpsed the Savarona. It was lurching heavily, only a couple of hundred yards away now but separated from the patrol boat by a mountainous sea.
Reilly suddenly froze. On the deck below the diving ship's wheel-house, a small figure appeared to be moving, battered by torrents of water, clinging desperately to the rigging.
He felt the air leave his lungs. He was sure it was Tess.
***
Tess hastened down the companionway, her thoughts a blur and her heartbeat throbbing deafeningly in her ears. She scanned the walls, desperately trying to remember where she'd seen the ax.
She finally found it, mounted on a bulkhead just outside the galley. Within seconds, she'd also found a life jacket and strapped it on. Sucking in a deep breath and rallying herself for what she was about to do, she yanked open the watertight door, stepped over the coaming, and threw herself into the fury that was raging outside.
Tess knew Vance wouldn't risk moving from the cockpit. Clutching the ax with one hand and using the other to steady herself, she moved carefully across the main deck, releasing life vests as she went, hoping they might be of some use to the stranded divers.
She saw a huge wave crest over the bow and locked her arms around a railing, bracing herself as a wall of water hit her head-on and buried the deck. She then felt the deck slide away from under her as the Savanna flew off the top of the wave and rocketed down its steep back before landing heavily in its trough. She pulled herself up and, through the tangle of hair that whipped stingingly across her face, she spotted the falcon, dangling in midair several feet above the deck, swaying wildly. She scrambled toward the base of the crane and the wire rope emerging from its reel.
Reaching it, she glanced up at the window of the cockpit. Through the veils of spray, she saw Vance's alarmed face. She steeled herself, raised the ax, and swung it with all her might. She almost lost her grip as it bounced off the taut cable and looked up to see Vance rushing out of the wheelhouse and fighting the wind that plowed into him. He was gesturing wildly and screaming what looked like a continuous 'No!' from the top of his lungs, but with the howling of the wind, Tess couldn't hear it. Undeterred, she swung again, steadied herself, and then swung yet again. A strand snapped, then another as she smashed the ax down repeatedly in a frenzied flurry of blows.
She wasn't going to let Vance have it. Not this way. Not at this cost.
She'd been a fool to give him the benefit of any doubt, and it was time to start making amends.
The last strand finally gave way, and as the Savanna rolled to port, the falcon suddenly dropped, crashing down heavily into the sea.
Tess clutched her way along the sloping deck, away from the pilothouse, ducking to avoid Vance's sight line instinctively. Darting a quick backward glance, she glimpsed the flotation bags emerging from the foaming water. Her heart stopped as she waited to see if they still held the falcon, then she let out a heavy breath when she spotted its dark brown, rounded shape sticking out from between the inflated balloons.
Her elation at succeeding was short-lived as, at that very moment, a staccato of small explosions rocked the Savarona. Diving for cover, Tess glanced back at the patrol boat pursuing them and was amazed to see the cannon at its bow spitting out a deadly fire.
+ + +
Lashed by the driving spray and the ferocious wind, Reilly raced after De Angelis.
The Karadeniz strained to hold its position, its rescue divers hauling one of the stranded divers onto a rigid inflatable boat, while the other man clung desperately to a life preserver until he too could be hauled aboard.
The monsignor finally reached the foredeck. Within seconds, he had positioned himself firmly between the gun's semicircular, padded-shoulder mounts. Unlocking the fearsome weapon and swinging it around with expert ease, he quickly found the escaping dive boat and unleashed a ferocious burst of incendiary 23mm shells.
'No!' Reilly yelled, climbing over the railing and onto the cannon's deck. Even with the wind screaming past his ears, the noise from the cannon was deafening.
He lunged at De Angelis, jolting the gun off course and sending the tracers arcing away from the Savarona and disappearing harmlessly into the sea. The monsignor slid one of his shoulders out from the gun's mount and grabbed Reilly's hand, twisting his fingers back to an unnatural angle before swinging a savage blow that caught
