him. The wrench rang as it hit the linoleum-covered deck.
Jamail rolled the body away. Qazi tried to rise. God, not this!
“Quickly,” he tried to say, his tongue thick. He gestured vaguely at Jamail, who nodded and left him there, struggling to rise from the sitting position.
Jamail and Haddad had almost completed the task of setting the charges when Qazi had the cobwebs sufficiently cleared to stand upright and walk out into the equipment room. “Put one on the electrical cables under the raised area of the floor,” Qazi told them, “back there.” He pointed behind the panels. Haddad seized his gym bag and disappeared into the gap from which Qazi had just come. The colonel inspected the timer on the charge against the power-distribution panel. It was readily apparent what this panel was, because Haddad had opened the metal doors to expose all the switches and connectors. And he had properly armed the magnesium flare, which would ignite thirty seconds after the main explosion. Satisfactory.
“
The exclamation came from the office, the first compartment they had come through. Jamail heard it too and charged in that direction, his Uzi ready. Qazi was right behind.
The officer in khakis went down under Jamail’s bullets. As he fell, the security curtains fluttered and Qazi heard the sound of the passageway door being jerked open. Jamail pumped a short burst into the curtains.
“
“Quick! Let’s finish. Arm the fuses and let’s
Fifteen seconds later the three men stood by the door and arranged the straps of their gym bags over their shoulders. Jamail and Haddad put new magazines into their Uzis.
“Jamail, you will lead us out. Clear the passageway left. Haddad, clear it right. Then I will lead you forward — that’s to the right — to the first passageway turning left, which will take us out of the ship onto the catwalk and up to the flight deck. Let’s go.” Qazi nodded and Haddad pulled the curtains aside and opened the door. Jamail went through low. He opened fire as Haddad and Qazi followed him.
In the red-lit corridor a small knot of men were gathered fifty feet aft, most of them facing in this direction. As the Uzi sprayed men dove into open doorways or collapsed onto the deck.
Qazi covered the twenty feet to the outboard passageway and turned the corner when the muffled bursts finally ceased. “The bastard,” he swore viciously as he ran. Jamail used a whole magazine on them — unarmed men. He enjoys this!
The passageway turned left, then right, and ended at a dogged-down watertight door. Qazi grabbed the one handle that was mechanically linked to all eight of the dogs and lifted. Each of the eight dogs rotated ninety degrees. Haddad pushed at the door. All three men were through the opening and Jamail was closing the door when the concussion from the explosions in the communications spaces hammered the deck and bulkheads. The heavy door flew out on its hinges and smacked against Jamail. He picked himself up and, with Haddad, dogged it shut.
The wind was fierce here under the catwalk. Through the grid, Qazi could see the streaks in the black sea from the foaming whitecaps. He waited as his eyes adjusted fully to the darkness. So far so good. Phase one almost complete.
The ship’s public-address system came to life. A speaker was located on the catwalk just above them. They heard the hum and hiss, then a Klaxon began to wail. The volume was deafening, probably so the announcements could be heard all over the flight deck. Qazi inserted his fingers in his ears. When the Klaxon stopped, a voice came on, equally loud: “General quarters, general quarters. All hands man your battle stations. This is not a drill. General quarters, general quarters. Go up and forward on the starboard side and down and aft on the port side. This is not a drill.” The Klaxon resumed its wail, then died abruptly. Even here on the catwalk, Qazi could feel the steel grid under his feet vibrate from the harmonics induced by thousands of running feet.
Time was running out. In three minutes every watertight door and hatch on the ship would be ordered shut. And even now the ship’s quick-reaction team — a squad of armed marines — would be on its way to the bridge to protect the captain. He had to get there first.
Qazi led the way up the ladder to the catwalk and up the next ladder onto the flight deck.
Jake Grafton, Rear Admiral Parker, and Captain James were huddled around the captain’s chair on the bridge when they felt the shock of the explosion in the communications compartment. High up here in the island it was just a dull thud that jolted the steel deck. A man was on the phone reporting intruders in the comm spaces when the explosion occurred.
“Sound general quarters. Then call away the nucleus fire party and set Circle William,” the captain told the OOD, who repeated the order to the bosun’s mate of the watch, who announced it on the ship’s loudspeaker. The nucleus fire party was a group of damage-control specialists who normally responded to fire reports when the ship’s watertight hatches were not closed. They were the most highly trained firemen on the ship, so the captain wanted to use them if possible. The Circle William order was critical to containing the smoke and fumes from a fire. Closure of hatches labeled with a W inside a red circle — Circle William — would seal off the ship’s air-circulating system, preventing smoke and poisonous fumes generated by a fire from being pumped throughout the ship.
“Sir,” the OOD reported, “No one answers the squawk box or telephone in the comm spaces.”
Laird James reached for the microphone of the ship’s public address system. “What are you going to say?” Parker asked.
“I’m going to tell the crew what’s going on.”
“Remember, the intruders can hear you.”
James nodded and keyed the mike. “This is the captain. We have just had an explosion in the communications spaces on the O-3 level. Apparently we have at least one group of intruders aboard this ship. Perhaps more than one group. They are armed. Some of your shipmates have apparently already died.”
He released the mike button and looked at Parker. “My men don’t have guns.”
Parker’s lips tightened into a grim line. “Don’t let them die for nothing.”
James keyed the mike again. “Avoid direct confrontation with the terrorists, yet resist the best way you can. Keep the bridge and DC Central informed.” He paused again and stared for a moment into the blackness of the night sea. “You men are American sailors. I expect each of you to do his duty. That is all.”
James punched the button on a squawk box, an intercom system, labeled “CDC.” “This is the captain. You people manned up down there?”
“Yessir.”
“Get off a voice transmission, scrambled if possible, on your circuits. Tell our escorts to relay it to Sixth Fleet and CIN-CLANT.” CINCLANT was the Commander in Chief of the U.S. Atlantic Fleet.
“Yessir. What do we send?”
“Goddammit, man,” James thundered. “Send the substance of the announcement I just made over the 1-MC.” The 1-MC circuit was the ship’s public-address system. “Tell them we have armed intruders aboard. More info to follow as we get it.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Chief Terry Reed stared in disbelief at the padlock on the door to the after hangar-deck repair locker. The men behind him peered over his shoulder, curious about the delay. Why the hell was this door padlocked? The doorknob had an integral lock, and every man in the chief’s repair party had a key. This locker was their battle station. Chief Reed took a closer look at the doorknob. It had been forced.
“Somebody get a fire ax and pry this damn lock off.”
The chief scanned the hangar bay while he waited. Intruders? Aboard this ship? Captain James didn’t throw words around lightly. He must know what’s going on. The chief looked at the doorknob lock again. Someone had pried it until it broke. And this padlock — it wasn’t navy-issue. Damn. Could the intruders have been here?
A man came running with a fire ax. The chief moved back away from the door. He looked again around the hangar bay, still puzzled. Why would anyone want to get in the repair-party locker? There was nothing in there but damage control gear. The valuable assets were the airplanes, out here in the bay. He stared at them, wings folded and chained to the deck. Some of the machines had access panels and nose domes open, exposing radars and black boxes and bundles of cables. They looked naked. Had they been sabotaged?
