Havana Storm Page 18

  Gomez checked a pair of concealed fuel tanks near the bow and nodded. The tanks fed two 150-horsepower horizontal motors concealed beneath the bench seats that powered twin jet impellers mounted on the hull.

  Maguire opened a set of false floorboards and performed a quick inventory check with a flashlight. One compartment contained a mini arsenal of pistols, assault rifles, and an RPG launcher, plus ammunition. Another contained an assortment of dive gear. Maguire loaded a third compartment with a heavy plastic bin he brought from his cabin.

  Sealing up the floorboards, he called to Gomez. “Let’s get her wet.”

  Gomez stepped to a small crane and hoisted the boat by its lift straps over the side and into the water.

  Maguire eyed its name, Surprise, lightly painted in yellow on the stern, before climbing aboard. He released the lift straps and handed them to Gomez, who stowed them aboard the ship, then joined Maguire in the boat.

  Maguire started up the inboard motors and radioed the workboat’s bridge. “Surprise is away. We’ll see you in forty-eight hours.”

  “Roger that,” the skipper replied. “We’ll be waiting right here, catching some rays.”

  Maguire laid on the throttle and the faux fishing boat shot away into the night. The mercenary aimed the bow toward the distant lights of Grand Cayman Island, bounding over the choppy black sea on a mission of death.

  41

  The Sargasso Sea’s Zodiac approached at a whisper, only the slap of the waves against its hull signaling its presence. Giordino was thankful for finding an electric motor aboard the research vessel, one used by the ship’s scientists when examining ecologically sensitive areas. He was less enamored with the fact that he was piloting a bright orange inflatable across a moonlit sea. The ship’s maintenance crew had hurriedly slapped a coat of black paint on the inflatable in the name of stealth, but much of it had fallen victim to the salt spray.

  Giordino guided the Zodiac toward the mining ship, which was now holding position a mile east of the Sargasso Sea. The vessel was illuminated from stem to stern with bright floodlights that revealed an impressive, modern-built ship with multiple hydraulic A-frames, pumps, and conveyors designed for subsea mining. Beyond the mining ship, Giordino saw the lights of a second vessel receding to the south.

  He approached the ship from the stern to avoid observant eyes on the bridge while searching for a means to gain access. His luck held when he spotted a ladder that had been lowered off the starboard flank. As the Zodiac drew closer, he read the ship’s name on the transom, Sea Raker.

  Dirk sat on the bow, dressed in black and holding a coil of rope. Figuring their chance of detection was less with a quick strike, Giordino held the throttle down and gunned for the ladder. The inflatable bounced against the side of the ship. Dirk leaped to the ladder, tied off the inflatable, and scrambled up the steps. Clearing the ship’s rail, he ducked behind a crane and waited for Giordino.

  Giordino tumbled to Dirk’s side a minute later. “How we looking?”

  “Not good. We just missed a pair of guards on patrol that are headed up the port rail. They were uniformed and carrying assault rifles.”

  “Assault rifles on a mining ship. Lovely,” he said, angered at the notion they had arrived unarmed.

  “We better keep a low profile. It looks like there are a few scattered work details still about as well.”

  “That may not be a bad thing, if we can mix with the locals.”

  Dirk spied an enclosed operator’s cab affixed to the crane they were hiding behind. “I think I see something.”

  He crept to the cab door, climbed inside, and he found a work coat draped over the operator’s seat and a hard hat hanging from a hook. He grabbed both and returned to Giordino.

  “Too short for me,” he said, holding up the jacket. “You’re elected to join the ship’s crew.”

  Giordino squeezed his torso into the coat and pulled the hat low. “This should pass muster. Let’s go see what we can find.”

  He stepped onto the deck and moved along the starboard rail as if he’d worked aboard the ship for years. Dirk followed a few paces behind, holding to the shadows. They passed beneath a massive conveyor apparatus used to offload ore, then approached the bulk cutter machine’s hangar.

  Several crewmen were milling about, some wearing full protective suits and breathing devices. Giordino stood at the fringe until a lone crewman carrying a clipboard stepped in his direction. Giordino waved him over as if to point out a problem with some equipment. When he drew near, Giordino put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Where’s the man and woman from the submersible?” he asked.

  The crewman gaped at Giordino a moment, then jabbered a litany of his own questions. Dirk materialized behind him and grabbed his arms, allowing Giordino an unfettered punch to the man’s chin. The man instantly fell limp.

  “That wasn’t very sporting,” Giordino whispered, rubbing his knuckles.

  “The consequence of a wrong answer.” Dirk dragged the crewman behind a large drum winch and stripped him of his jumpsuit and clipboard. He rejoined Giordino, moving forward along the deck. They stopped and ducked into the side of the hangar when they noticed a pair of armed guards approaching from the other direction.

  Dirk and Giordino approached the bulk cutter and pretended to inspect its steel treads. The guards paid little attention as they strolled past. Once they were out of sight, Giordino started to exit the bay, but Dirk grabbed his arm.

  “Al, over here.”

  Dirk pulled him aside as a grease-stained mechanic walked by. He waited a moment, then steered Giordino to the other end of the bulk cutter. At the back of the hangar was a large oblong object covered in canvas tarps. Dirk pulled back a corner and saw a familiar yellow shape underneath. “It’s the Starfish,” he said. “They brought it aboard.”

  Pitt and Summer weren’t trapped at the bottom of the sea. In all likelihood, they were alive and well somewhere aboard the ship.

  “Why would they bring them aboard and hide the fact?” he asked.

  “Who knows? Maybe they’re mining here without authorization.”

  They exited the hangar and peered toward the forward section of the ship.

  “They probably have them locked in a cabin,” Giordino said. “Let’s see if we can find them.”

  They made their way to the six-story accommodations block near the bow. Entering an open side door, they searched the first two floors, finding a galley, a wardroom, and several storage lockers. At that late hour of the night, there were only a few sleepy crew members about, waiting for their shifts to end. On the third level, they stumbled into a lounge fronting the crew’s cabins. Three off-duty soldiers sat playing cards. Giordino eyed the adjacent corridors to the cabins. Finding them empty, he smiled at the soldiers and led Dirk to the companionway.

  One of the cardplayers gave a cold stare to the two strangers in ill-fitting jumpsuits, but his partners kept their focus on the card game at hand.

  “Lucky for us,” Giordino said as they broached the fourth level, “it doesn’t appear as if the ship’s crew mingles with the Army boys.”

  “Not so lucky, we’re running out of accommodations quarters.”

  They found the fourth floor identical to the third, absent the cardplayers. There was no sign of visitors under guard.

  As they ascended toward the fifth level, an alarm sounded. After thirty seconds, the siren ceased and a stern voice barked through the public-address system in rapid-fire Spanish.

  “I think somebody woke up and wants his threads back,” Giordino said.

  “Don’t tell me that jackhammer right of yours has lost some steam.”

  He shrugged. “We all have our off days. Let’s take a quick look at the fifth floor, then hit the road.”

  They scrambled up the stairwell to the next level, which was split between officers’ cabins on one
side and senior crew members’ on the other. A few groggy-eyed ship’s personnel were staggering from their cabins. No guards were visible, so they turned back toward the stairwell. A soldier came bursting onto the floor. He took one look at Dirk and Giordino and shouted, “Alto, alto!”

  Giordino recognized him as the cardplayer from the third level. He also saw that he was unarmed. Stepping up to the man, Giordino grabbed him by the collar and threw him across the room. The soldier nearly came out of his shoes before slamming into a side wall and slumping to the floor.

  “Let’s go,” Giordino grunted, turning around and ducking down the companionway. Dirk followed on his heels.

  The stairs were empty, and they raced to the bottom and darted out the door. Giordino exited first and ran straight into an armed soldier heading the other way. The two men bounced off each other, stumbling to the ground.

  Though the soldier took the harder fall, he reacted quicker. Bounding to his feet, he thrust his assault rifle into Giordino’s chest and shouted, “Don’t move.”

  Giordino could only scowl as he eased his hands up in surrender.

  42

  Dirk stepped from the stairwell at the moment the two other men collided. He leaped back into its cover as the soldier stood up, having not noticed Giordino had a partner. Pounding footfalls and a murmur of voices overhead told him reinforcements were coming down the stairs. With little time to lose, he took a deep breath and waited for Giordino to set him up.

  Raising his palms, Giordino feigned innocence and chatted nonstop to divert the soldier’s attention. “What are you doing?” he cried. “I need to check the main hydraulics. Put your gun down. I’m no intruder.”

  He faked an injured leg from the collision and hobbled to the side rail, leaning on it for support. The soldier pivoted to track his movements, repeatedly calling for him to halt. He relaxed slightly when Giordino finally stopped and again raised his arms up high.

  It had taken Giordino just a few seconds to get the soldier turned around so his back was to the stairwell. Dirk reacted instantly, leaping from the stairs and charging toward the soldier like an angry bull. Dirk made no attempt to wrest the gun away; he simply lowered his shoulder and barreled into the man.

  The soldier caught his approach from out of the corner of his eye and twisted with the gun just before Dirk smashed into him.

  The soldier went tumbling toward Giordino, who in turn tagged him with a hard punch to the gut.

  The soldier squeezed the trigger on his AK-47 before he fell, spraying a half-dozen shots harmlessly into the deck plate.

  The combined blows had knocked the wind out of him and he fell to the deck atop his rifle, gasping for air while clutching his stomach.

  “Appreciate that,” Giordino said to Dirk. “Now, let’s get out of here.”

  They sprinted down the starboard deck, but the gunfire had awakened the ship. Armed soldiers and crewmen came flooding out of the accommodations block.

  Dirk and Giordino had run only a short distance when shots began flying past them. Ducking for cover, they slipped back into the hangar that housed the bulk cutter.

  The hangar was now empty, save for a lone electronics technician on a raised platform checking a control panel. Giordino surveyed the platform, then motioned toward the stern.

  “Make for the boat,” he said to Dirk. “I’ll slow them down.”

  “You’ll never make it.”

  “Look for me over the side.”

  Dirk knew there was no point in arguing, so he bolted across the hangar and slipped out to the stern.

  Giordino approached the steps to the control platform. Alerted by the gunshots, the technician turned with a petrified look as Giordino stormed up the steps. “You can’t come up here,” he yelled.

  Giordino saw the man was terrified. Waving his thumb over his shoulder, he said, “Get lost!”

  The technician nodded. Nervously slipping past Giordino, he fled down the stairs and out of the hangar.

  Giordino turned to the control panel, which served as a testing station for the bulk cutter. Green lights showed there was a live power connection to the vehicle. He tweaked an assortment of dials and knobs until he found a pair of dual controls that made the machine stir beneath him. He jammed the levers forward and the bulk cutter began creeping forward on its heavy tracks.

  Giordino adjusted the controls, slowing the cutter’s left track and pivoting the machine until it faced the ship’s bow. Satisfied with its angle, he found and activated the vehicle’s cutter drum.

  A pair of armed soldiers peeked around the side of the hangar as the cutter drum ground into the side wall. The wall burst off its mounts and collapsed on the men as the cutter bulled forward. One man rolled clear and grabbed the arm of his companion, but the compressed wall had pinned him to the deck. The man let out a warbled cry as the cutter drum drove forward, grinding him, the wall, and the deck surface into a bloodstained mixture.

  The cutter ground forward across the starboard deck, blocking the soldiers who rushed from amidships. Giordino descended the platform and ran aft. He could see the stern rail ahead when suddenly two soldiers appeared in front of him. They knelt and opened fire with their assault rifles.

  Giordino didn’t wait for them to take aim. Without missing a beat, he stepped to the side rail, grabbed it, and vaulted over the side.

  A spray of bullets peppered the rail a second later as Giordino plunged safely into the sea. He dug hard into the water, swimming deep and away from the ship. He traveled twenty yards before surfacing for air, and to take a quick look.

  Dirk’s voice filled his ears. “Grab the line and hang on!”

  A large dark object speckled with orange whisked by Giordino’s head. He felt a rope sliding by his body and he clamped onto it with both hands.

  He was immediately ripped forward, dragged across the surface as a spray of water pounded his face. His arms felt like they were being ripped from their sockets, but he hung on for nearly a minute. Whenever his head broke the surface, he heard the intermittent crack of distant gunfire. He was choking on water and out of breath when the rope in his hands finally fell slack.

  He treaded water a moment while catching his breath. The inflatable nudged up beside him and Dirk leaned over and offered a hand. Sporadic gunfire still sounded but in diminishing intensity.

  Giordino lunged aboard and spit out a mouthful of saltwater. “Thanks for the keelhauling,” he sputtered.

  “Sorry. I figured it was the fastest way out of Dodge. They nicked our inflatable pretty good, but we’re well out of view now.”

  Giordino saw two of the Zodiac’s five airtight compartments were sagging. “They’re certainly gun happy.”

  “Guess they weren’t too crazy about your shipboard mining demonstration.”

  Giordino looked back toward the Sea Raker, several hundred yards distant. Somebody had pulled the power on the bulk cutter, but only after it had chewed up thirty feet of deck. He could just make out contingents of armed men swarming around the ship like a hive of bees.

  Dirk hit the throttle and turned for home.

  As they bounded over a rising sea, Giordino grimaced at the chaotic scene behind them. Their foray had been a complete failure. Somewhere aboard the mining ship, Pitt and Summer were being held captive, and now they would be hell to rescue.

  43

  A half-moon was still kindling the night sky when the tugboat carrying Pitt and Summer throttled down its engine. Pitt nudged his daughter awake as the boat scraped against a dock and its motor shut down.

  She yawned. “How long was I out?”

  “An hour or so.”

  “Great. So we must be in Key West by now.”

  The guard at the door had stood, stone-faced, the entire journey. Little changed in his demeanor as he held the captives in the cabin another full hour. Finally, another soldier
arrived, and together they marched Pitt and Summer off the tug and onto a long dock.

  Summer scanned the area. “Funny, this doesn’t look like Florida.”

  They had landed along a rugged stretch of verdant coast. Scattered lights were visible on the hills beyond, but the immediate landscape seemed isolated. A pair of illuminated buildings faced the extended dock, set in the base of a protected rocky cove.

  The dock itself was massive, extending nearly four hundred feet. Pitt noticed the steel platform was painted a teal gray, which would make it hard to see from overhead. The tugboat was tied up just behind the large oceangoing barge it had pushed to shore. The barge held a mountain of ore, the now dried slurry that the Sea Raker had mined from the ocean floor.

  As Pitt and Summer were marched along the dock, a contingent of workers approached from shore. Most wore military fatigues, like the soldiers on the Sea Raker. A few were attired in hazmat suits with breathing devices. These men began maneuvering into place a large conveyor system that would offload the barge’s cargo.

  At the end of the dock, Pitt paused to eye several high mounds of ore already onshore, presumably awaiting shipment to a smelter. The barrel of an assault rifle nudged him in the back as a reminder that he wasn’t there to sightsee.

  They were led past a helicopter pad and a two-story dormitory building to the doorway of a small, low-roofed structure. Inside, it was configured as a contemporary executive office space, complete with plush carpeting and paneled walls.

  Summer’s eyes perked up at the sight of some Mesoamerican artifacts displayed in a glass case. She could give them only a cursory glance before they were shoved into a small office containing an empty desk and two stuffed chairs. The door was left open and an armed guard took his position at the threshold.

  “At least we get a modicum of comfort before they pass out the blindfolds,” Pitt said. He sank sideways into one of the chairs, his wrists still bound behind him.

  “That’s not funny.” Summer took the other seat and leaned toward her father. In a low voice she asked, “Why do you think they brought us here?”