'Do we still have power, Rudi?'
'Our port engine is dead, but the starboard is still turning over.'
'Then they just made a big mistake,' Pitt said with a cold grin.
'And what was that?' Gunn replied.
'Remember the pirate ship?'
'I do indeed.' Gunn cut back on the throttle to the good engine for the sucker play, allowing the little research boat to stop dead in the water. The ploy worked. Certain that his victim was about to sink, the yacht's captain swallowed the bait and idled closer.
Seconds crawled by, until the yacht was almost sitting on top of them at point-blank range. Seeing no movement on board and smoke still gushing from the hull, no small-arms fire was poured into the seemingly stricken vessel. Then a bearded man leaned out the window of the yacht's pilothouse, and with an American Deep South accent spoke through a bullhorn.
'Y'all who can hear me. If y'all do not abandon your boat, it will be blasted to kindlin'. Do not attempt to use any communication devices. Ah repeat, do not open communications. We'all have detection equipment on board and will know immediately if y'all transmit. Y'all have exactly sixty seconds to take to the water. Ah promise y'all safe passage to the nearest port.'
'Shall we reply?' asked Gunn.
'Maybe we should do as he says,' muttered Dodge. 'I want to see my children and grandchildren again.'
'If you trust a pirate's word,' said Pitt coldly, 'I've got a gold mine in Newark, New Jersey, I'll sell you cheap.'
Seemingly ignoring the yacht, Pitt rose into view and climbed through the gear piled on the stern and approached the jackstaff on the transom that was flying the Nicaraguan flag. He lowered the flag, unclasped the fasteners and removed it. Then he retrieved the bundle he'd been carrying inside his shirt. In a few moments, a silk, three-by-five-foot emblem was raised.
'Now they know where we come from,' Pitt said, as everyone stared reverently at the stars and stripes snapping defiantly in the breeze.
Renee returned on deck, carrying two glass jars and a wine bottle topped with gasoline. Quickly sizing up the situation, she suddenly had a revelation. 'You're not going to ram him?' she cried.
'Say when,' yelled Gunn, in a voice edged with anticipation and the stony face of a poker player bluffing to win a pot.
'No!' Renee moaned. 'That isn't a hologram. It's a solid object. Ram that and we'll fold up like Lawrence Welk's accordion.'
'I'm counting on it,' Pitt snapped back. 'You and Patrick light the wicks and get ready to toss the cocktails as soon as we collide.'
There was no more hesitation. The yacht was creeping past
Giordino threw Pitt one of the M4 carbines and they began blasting away at the yacht. Giordino fired full automatic, sending a spray of 5.56-millimeter NATO rounds into the pilothouse, while Pitt aimed and accurately fired single shots at the crewman holding the rocket launcher, taking him out with his second shot. Another man leaned down to pick up the weapon, but Pitt canceled him out too…
Stunned that
No one had to be told to sit against the bulkhead with their arms protecting their heads. Renee and Dodge shared apprehensive looks at the orange life jackets that Gunn had passed out. In the pilothouse, he stood firm, hands clutched on the wheel, knuckles turning ivory. The single screw chewed the water, driving the boat straight toward the big, opulent yacht. Its crew stared back, numbed with horror and disbelief, as they realized the innocent-looking fishing boat was not throwing in the towel but rather attacking them with the intention of ramming. A fox in sheep's clothing, surprise was total, no other boat or ship had offered resistance before being captured. They were also shaken by the unexpected show of the American flag.
Pitt and Giordino kept up their devastating fire, sweeping the decks and clearing them of the yacht's crew as
Ten seconds to impact.
23
Pitt and Giordino laid aside their carbines and braced themselves for the collision. From her curled-up position against the deckhouse bulkhead, Renee could see that the two men's faces were impassive, with no indication of fear or stress. They seemed as indifferent as a pair of ducks sitting under pouring rain.
In the pilothouse, Gunn was planning his moves in sequence. He aimed the bow to strike into the yacht's engine room just aft of the main dining salon. After impact, the next trick was to reverse the engine and pray it could pull
The yacht loomed up and blocked out the sun. Then havoc piled on havoc and everything seemed to go into slow motion as the sound of a dull lingering crunch that never seemed to end broke the atmosphere.
Renee and Dodge stood and hurled their fuel-filled bottles, with soaked rags aflame. One bounced on the teak deck without breaking, but the other smashed and ignited a ball of fire that spread down the side of the yacht in a fiery waterfall. Without pause, they hurled the glass jars, then the wine bottle, and all burst into a holocaust that covered half the yacht. The once-beautiful vessel looked as though it was locked in a psychotic's nightmare.
Even before the research boat had lost her momentum, Gunn pulled the throttle into full reverse. For several tormented seconds,
Two of
Pitt and Giordino fired blindly into the smoke and fire until resistance aboard the yacht faded away. The