explosion.”
“With any luck I’ll know the pilot.”
Foch got to his feet. “We should leave.”
“Take the truck. I’ll join you when Lauren arrives,” Mercer said.
“Harry, I think you should stay with Roddy.”
“I’m sure you do,” the octogenarian replied. “And I would, except for one small problem. None of you know how to handle a ship the size of the
Mercer watched Harry’s blue eyes, struggling with his feelings of loyalty and duty. “Can you walk me through the procedures over the radio?” he asked.
“No. I need to be on her to feel how she responds.” They continued to study each other. “Hey, don’t think I wouldn’t rather be on my bar stool at Tiny’s,” Harry added.
Mercer finally broke eye contact and glanced at Foch. His meaning was clear.
“Do not worry, my friend,” the Legionnaire said in French. “My debt to you for saving my life will be protecting his at all cost.”
“All right. Lauren and I will be with you in a few minutes.”
The men tucked their weapons back in their bags and climbed over the gunwale for the dock. Bruneseau led them and Foch stayed at Harry’s side. Harry didn’t bother using his walking stick and as far as Mercer could tell his gait was even. His prosthesis wasn’t bothering him because he was in the grip of the same adrenaline surge coursing through Mercer’s veins.
Ten minutes later, multiple pairs of feet leapt to the deck of the fishing boat. Lauren opened the door and twisted rain from her hair when she stepped inside. Behind her were the six Green Berets. Mercer stood to shake Patke’s hand. “Philip Mercer.”
“Captain Jim Patke.” The soldier was about thirty, with blue eyes and blondish hair kept longer than army regulations. He was a bit shorter than Mercer but appeared well proportioned. His grip was firm. His stance bespoke a selfassuredness that came from years of training. Mercer introduced Roddy Herrara. “For operational security,” the team leader said, “forgive me if I don’t present my men.”
The five other soldiers were cut from a similar mold-athletic without the steroid bulk of movie heroes. Mercer could see intelligence in their eyes and just a hint that being called into action, no matter how ill-planned, gave them a thrill.
They set their luggage on the floor and quickly began to change into black fatigues. Patke spoke as he stripped out of jeans and a button-down shirt. “A spare radio is in my bag there.” He pointed with his chin. Lauren retrieved it from its hiding place. “You’re familiar with it, Captain?”
She flicked it on and settled the earpiece and throat mike. “Affirmative.”
“Pre-select channels one through four are me and my guys.” Patke showed no self-consciousness about stripping to his underwear in front of her. “We’ll call out as we change them. Your code name’s Angel. We’re Devil One through Six. The
“Heaven, Heaven, this is Angel. Radio check. Over.”
“Angel, this is Heaven, reading you five by five. Over.” The comm officer aboard the
“Devils and Angel are ready to go. Target is-” she looked at Mercer, who told her “-fifteen minutes from entering the lock. It will take about thirty minutes for her to clear the chamber and proceed to the cut.”
“Understood, Angel. The UAV is flying just low enough to see through the overcast. We’ve got her under surveillance. Heaven is standing by with all the wrath you might need.”
Lauren knew that meant her VGAS cannon had already locked onto the
“Let’s see the weapons,” Patke said when he’d finished dressing. Mercer lifted the second nylon bag onto the table. The commandos descended on the guns. In seconds each had an M-16 stripped down to its component parts. After one of them checked the assault rifles thoroughly, they gave the pistols the same attention. “You haven’t fired these yourself?” Patke asked Lauren.
She shook her head. “I only got them last night.”
Patke made a disgusted face. “This just gets better and better.” He looked to the armorer who’d inspected the weapons. “How about it?”
“Can’t promise accuracy but they’re all in good shape, sir.” He looked at Lauren. “Government issue?”
She wasn’t surprised the soldier could deduce that from his brief examination. These men were all experts on the tools of their trade. “I got them from a contact in the police.”
“Good enough for me,” the armorer announced, and his teammates, though unhappy about going into combat with unfamiliar arms, seemed satisfied.
“Oh, there’s one more thing. We’re gonna need Mr. Herrara to stay with us,” Patke said absently.
“No way,” Mercer snapped. “He’s more of a civilian than any of us.”
“That may be, but he’s also the only one who can maneuver that ship. None of my guys have experience with anything over a thirty-foot assault boat. We can take the ship, but unless we can get her out of the way, the Chinese will likely just take it back again with a superior force.”
Mercer wanted to protest again, maybe volunteer himself. That’s what his instincts told him to do, but he had no idea how to control a ship the size of the
Roddy forestalled any further argument. “I will do it.”
There was no need to mention what he was risking by going with the Americans. The love he felt for his family was reflected in his eyes and the proud set to his shoulders.
“Right.” Patke checked over his team. “Once we get control of her, we’ll determine how the explosives are triggered and render them inoperable. Two of my men are demolition experts. Mr. Herrara will keep the ship moving so the Chinese can’t board her from a launch.”
“We’ll be waiting at the upper side of the lock complex,” Mercer told him.
Roddy was at the window, looking through the storm for the
The others joined him. Through the woolly curtain of rain, the bulk carrier loomed over the waters like a rust-streaked cathedral. Her four-story superstructure was located at her stern, and was painted a murky blue, with a single funnel that belched black smoke. Three cranes rose from her low deck on spindly stalks, like enormous insects whose arms could pick at the carcass they were poised over. Her bows flared upward, and where her anchor dangled on a massive chain her name was stenciled in faded letters.
Nothing about her dilapidated appearance gave a hint to the deadly cargo in her holds.
“We’ve got to go,” Roddy said.
Patke fitted his earpiece and told Lauren they were starting on channel one. All the team members checked the comm link with each other and with the guided-missile destroyer standing off the coast.
Mercer shook Roddy’s hand and that of Captain Patke. Lauren gave Roddy a quick hug and saluted the Special Forces officer. “Good luck, Captain.”
Nothing further needed to be said. Roddy climbed up to the bridge and keyed the engines to life. Mercer and Lauren began jogging off the pier. In a minute they heard the timbre of the fishing boat’s engine change as Roddy pulled from the marina. It would take only a couple of minutes to dash across the shipping lines and deposit the commandos on the far bank of the canal. From there, Mercer estimated Patke would wait until the last minute before rushing the lock chamber and boarding the bomb ship. After that he had no idea how it would go.
He looked at Lauren as she ran at his side through the deluge. Her jaw was relaxed as her breathing came deep and even. Her hands were formed into loose fists. When she felt his stare upon her she turned to him, her eyes undiminished in the washed-out light.
He put aside his growing feelings toward her and turned his gaze back into the storm, his eyes slitted, his
