men together to start taking them into custody. The commandos surrounding the three leaders were trying to look casual and relaxed, but they could sense their tension. 'Looks like the captain's coming over here. Time's up.'

'How do you want to play it, sir?' Wohl asked Patrick.

Patrick got to his feet, turned away from the oncoming Egyptian captain, and hefted his helmet. 'Let's take this boat,' he said, and he quickly slipped his helmet into place.

'Hoo-rah,' Wohl said tonelessly as he and Briggs got to their feet. 'Good decision, sir.'

'An iznukum!' Farouk shouted when he saw Patrick put on the helmet. 'Minfadlukum!' But when he saw Briggs and Wohl also put their helmets on, he knew things were turning ugly. 'Wci'if!'' He motioned to his marine guards. 'IhataristWa'if!'

The three armored commandos moved out in a triangle formation, opposing the three main bodies of guards. At the same instant, the commandos also fanned out, moving with surprising speed since it seemed as if they were so relaxed and tired there moments ago. The electronic energy bolts fired, striking the armed guards, and almost before the stunned guards hit the steel helicopter hangar deck, the Night Stalker commandos had their weapons in their hands. In less than fifteen seconds, every armed Egyptian sailor in the hangar was unconscious, and the commandos were closing, dogging, and guarding the steel hangar doors and hatches, weapons in hand.

'What are you doing? What are you doing here?' Farouk shouted as he saw his men drop to the nonskid deck, their bodies quivering from the electric shocks they received. He pointed an angry finger at Luger. 'You told me you meant us no danger!' He saw Patrick approach and turned his anger towards him. 'Are you the one responsible? I will see to it that you are put to death for this act of aggression! We saved you and your men from the Libyans, and now you dare do this!'

'Captain, I am Castor,' Patrick said. He paused as he listened to instructions Wohl issued to his men. The Night Stalker commandos quickly began to remove the Egyptian sailors' uniforms and put them on. 'My men and I won't hurt you, and we have no desire to take your ship, unless you do not cooperate with us.'

'Won't hurt us? Won't take my ship? You are terrorists! Saboteurs! Spies!' Farouk screamed. 'Putting on the uniform of another country's army is not permitted!'

'This is not war, Captain, and we are not soldiers,' Patrick said. 'Sir, I'm going to ask one more time for your cooperation.'

'I refuse. You may kill me if you wish.'

'I don't want to kill you, Captain,' Patrick said. 'I want you to contact your headquarters on Mersa Matruh. Tell them I have taken you hostage and warn them not to approach this ship.'

'I told you, I will not cooperate,' Farouk said. 'I order you to put down those weapons and surrender.'

'That's not likely to happen, Captain,' Patrick said. 'But I'm sure you'll reconsider my offer to contact your headquarters once we reach the bridge.'

'The bridge?' Farouk gulped. 'You… you think you will take my bridge! You will all be dead in ten minutes.'

'Maybe so,' Patrick said. 'But in five minutes, we'll have control of your bridge.' He switched the view on his electronic visor to an electronic briefing Chris Wohl was giving to the Night Stalkers. Patrick saw that Wohl had called up an electronic blueprint of the U.S.-made Perryclass frigate and was briefing his men on their assault. In less than five minutes, they were ready. Wohl took the portside rail, Briggs the starboard rail, followed by fifteen Night Stalkers each; Patrick went atop the hangar and made his way forward along the upper gun deck with twenty commandos.

Because of the tense situation in the Med following the Libyan raids, the deck was full of lookouts, all armed with American-made machine guns. They were all doing exactly what they were supposed to be doing-searching the sea, continually scanning for threats using night-vision goggles and infrared sniperscopes-so it was easy to simply step within a few feet of them unnoticed, quietly knock them unconscious with a quick zap, disable or capture their weapons, and move on. McLanahan's, Briggs's, and Wohl's electronic visors showed each crewman on deck in stark relief several yards away, and their amplified hearing equipment allowed them to take cover before a crew member came through a hatch or unexpectedly appeared around a corner.

On the bridge, the officer of the deck, or OOD, was making a log entry when suddenly the frigate's oropeller simply stopped. 'Sir, sudden loss of propulsion!' the helmsman reported.

The OOD immediately picked up the IMC phone direct to Engineering. 'Engineering, bridge, what's happening down there?' No reply. 'Engineering, bridge, respond!' Still no reply. The OOD turned to the chief petty officer. 'Sound general quarters, all hands to battle stations, no drill.' He picked up another phone, the one direct to the captain's quarters. 'Captain to the bridge. Emergency.' The OOD had picked up another phone. 'Combat, bridge.. Combat, can you hear me?' There was no reply. 'What in hell is going on here?' He turned to the chief petty officer and shouted, 'And why haven't you sounded general quarters, dammit?'

'I activated the alarm, but it did not sound, sir!' The chief petty officer turned to one of the watchstanders and shouted, 'Start a running message relay right now, general quarters, battle stations, this is not a drill. Go!'

'Ma'lesh,' they heard behind them. 'It doesn't matter.'

The OOD and chief petty officer turned and saw commander Farouk step onto the bridge. 'Sir, we've lost propulsion,' the OOD reported, 'and I cannot raise Engineering or Combat and I cannot sound general quarters. I…' But then he noticed the surprised expressions of the helmsman and the other watchstanders as the captain stepped onto the bridge. 'Sir..?'

Farouk was roughly pushed toward his captain's chair in the center of the bridge, and then the place seemed to explode in chaos. Men in Egyptian naval uniforms pointed automatic weapons at the bridge crew, shouting in English. At the same moment, the access door from the center of the bridge burst open, and more English-speaking men rushed in; behind the OOD and chief, the port-side weather door also whipped open, and more strange men entered. Once the bridge crew was gathered up, they were placed down on the deck, hands behind their necks. Four of the commandos stayed on the bridge, while others took up security positions outside and in the inside passageway.

Patrick entered commands into the frigate's computerized helm station, and the ship turned away from the Egyptian coast, increasing power to maximum. He then picked up the captain's telephone and held it out to Farouk. 'I need you to tell your crew that we will be delayed in returning to Mersa Matruh and to not interfere with my men.'

'I refuse.'

Patrick seemingly did not react-but moments later, Farouk's body began to do a strange jerking quiver in his seat, and his eyes began to roll up into his head. The spasm lasted for several moments, then Farouk's body went limp. The Egyptian captain appeared as if he had just been beaten up, his breath coming in deep gasps, although no one had touched him. 'It will be harder on you if you do not comply,' Patrick said in an electronically synthesized voice.

Farouk held out his hand, and Patrick placed the telephone in it. The Egyptian took several deep breaths, then spoke in Arabic. After he had finished, Patrick turned to one of the Night Stalkers and asked, 'What did he say?'

'He said the bridge and probably Engineering and combat have been taken by American commandos. He ordered his crew to resist us to the maximum extent possible.'

'The only ones that will be hurt will be your men, Captain,' Patrick said. He spoke into his helmet communications system, then handed the phone back to Farouk a few moments later. 'We have made contact with your headquarters, Captain. Tell them anyone approaching this ship will be attacked and killed. This is your only warning.' Farouk relayed the message, recommending that all forces be dispatched immediately to disable his ship and prevent it from falling into terrorist hands.

'Well, now the Egyptians know we're here,' Briggs radioed to Patrick via their battle armor comm system. 'Half the crew is ready to rush us from every corner of the ship, and soon half the Egyptian military will be barreling down on us. What's the plan?'

'We need to get in contact with Martindale, have him get every asset we have available searching for Wendy,' Patrick said. 'I want to turn this ship inside out looking for weapons, I want everyone to get fully recharged and rearmed, and then I want a plan of action to go in and rescue her.'

'Patrick,' Briggs said softly, 'we still don't know if she's alive.'

'She's alive. I know it.'

'But we don't-'

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