Daniel Suarez - Kill Decision

Odin stared straight ahead but then nodded. “Turn toward Paracel, Foxy. Maybe we can get some resources there.”

“Wilco.”

Odin was deep in thought while Foxy examined the GPS on the console. He pointed at the nav screen map. “With the fuel we have left, even Paracel is going to be dicey.”

McKinney pointed far off to the right, westward. “Is that another ship?”

Odin raised the binoculars to the western horizon. He pondered what he was looking at, then lowered them. “A cargo ship. A big one, headed north-away from the Maersk.” Odin pointed. “Make for it.”

“Maybe we can use their radio to warn away other shipping or contact the navy.”

Odin nodded.

It took several minutes for them to get into the vicinity of the second large ship. It had a sleek, aerodynamic design and was painted in bright orange and white. Despite its smooth shape, it was oddly tall and bulky for a cargo ship-shaped much like a passenger ship or high-speed ferry, but it had no windows along its side-just smooth white-and-orange-painted steel with the words Wallenius Wilhelmsen painted in two-story-tall letters.

Odin pointed down. “Car carrier. Bring us down.”

“You want me to land on that?”

Odin examined it with the binoculars. “It’s got a helipad right there in the center.”

“Yeah, meant for something like a Bell or an MD 520. This is a goddamned Sikorsky.”

Odin tapped the dash fuel gauge, which was already into the red. “We don’t have a choice.”

Foxy looked below again. “Oh, hell… aye, aye, skipper.”

They descended toward the fast-moving ship. As they came up on it, several of the crew on deck waved-obviously thinking the chopper was just doing a flyby.

Foxy leaned down to examine the equipment-and-ventilator-shaft-studded deck. “Should I try to hail them on the radio first?”

Odin shook his head. “No. Signal an emergency with your landing lights and get this bird down, Foxy.” Odin checked the safety on his stolen MP5 submachine gun, which he then slid into a satchel bag. He looked back to the others. “We are going to commandeer this vessel. Control must be established rapidly and with as little violence as possible.”

“As little violence…?” McKinney leaned forward. “My God, what are you doing?”

“Improvising. We’re going to ram the Ebba Maersk, Professor. This vessel’s clearly faster than that container ship.”

The faces of the others registered varying degrees of shock.

Foxy chuckled. “All those years in counterterrorism, and here I am hijacking a ship.”

Ritter stared in unbelieving amazement. “You can’t be serious? That swarm is designed to kill ships. That’s what they do.”

“We’ll see how long it takes them to do it.” Odin turned around in his seat. “I know you’ll try to warn the crew, Ritter. But in reality, you’re gonna help us.”

“The hell I am.”

Odin gestured to Smokey with a choking motion. Smokey immediately grabbed Ritter from behind in a chokehold. The man kicked and clawed at Smokey, but he was no match for the muscular commando.

McKinney shouted, “David, what are you doing! This isn’t right!”

“We’re not killing anyone. Just making sure he doesn’t mess up the plan.”

Even now she could see Ritter’s eyes rolling upward as Smokey’s chokehold blacked him out. “Mooch.”

Mooch had already opened his medical bag and was test-squirting a needle he’d prepared during the melee. “Roll up his sleeve.”

Ripper quickly did so, and Mooch delivered the injection. “I don’t know his health history, Odin, so this isn’t a big dose. You’ve probably got twenty minutes or so until he wakes up.”

“Good enough. If they ask, this is a medical emergency. He’s an oil executive returning from an offshore platform.” Odin tossed a container-yard hard hat into the backseat. “We think he had a stroke, and we need to see their ship’s doctor. The doctor’s cabin is usually close to the captain’s quarters, and the captain’s quarters are always next to any weapons.”

Foxy frowned. “It’s a commercial vessel, and this isn’t the Indian Ocean. They probably won’t have any weapons.”

“Mooch, you can speak the most convincing medical bullshit-you play the role of personal aide. Ripper, you’re his panicked wife.”

Ripper started peeling off her tactical harness. “Haven’t got a ring.”

“Evans!”

Evans tried to conceal his ring-covered hands. “Goddammit, are you for real?”

“Cough up one of those pinky rings for Ripper, and put another one on our disabled husband here.” Odin locked eyes with his team. “It’s a modern car carrier, so we’re probably looking at a crew of twenty to twenty-four people. We only need to gain control of the helm, engine room, and any weapons. Nonlethal force only. No knives-that means you, Ripper. No guns. Disable with hand-to-hand or lachrimatory agents only. Gear up.”

They were stowing their rifle cases, shedding military gear, and concealing pistols beneath their shirts as Foxy brought the chopper down to within a hundred feet above the moving ship. Wind turbulence buffeted them about. McKinney just now realized how perilous landing on the ship would be. Her nervousness about the imminent hijacking and drones faded in importance as the chopper lurched, dropped, and yawed to the side.

Odin shook his head. “Jesus, Foxy, you still remember how to fly this thing?”

“That helipad wasn’t meant for a chopper this size-and they’re going full steam.”

“Well, land this goddamned thing. We don’t have the fuel to mess around.”

Several crew members waved them away frantically as the large chopper continued its rapid descent, bucking against the turbulence.

McKinney felt her heart go into her throat as the Sikorsky quickly dropped half the distance to the helipad and slowed only ten feet or so off the deck. There was a bang as some part of the chopper hit a light mast or any of a number of objects crowding the helipad. Moments later the helicopter thumped down on the helipad, bounced slightly, and then finally came to a rest.

“Wow, you almost got part of the chopper onto the helipad.”

Foxy was busy shutting off the engines, which began to wind down. “I deserve a goddamned medal for getting it on the ship with all that turbulence.”

Odin noticed a half-dozen Caucasian men racing up a staircase toward the chopper, but they hesitated to be certain it had stopped moving. “Showtime, people.” He opened the copilot door, rapidly followed by Mooch and Smokey carrying the unconscious Ritter from the larger passenger door. Everyone else piled out, sincerely relieved to have landed.

The lead ship crew member was a bearded, husky blond man in a neat khaki uniform and captain’s hat. He didn’t look at all happy as he noticed the unconscious Ritter being carried toward him. He shouted to be heard over chopper wash and decreasing turbofan engine noise. His English had a slight Nordic accent. “What’s wrong with him?”

Odin leaned close, pointing to the stricken man. “Medical emergency. We think it’s a stroke. Big oil executive. His wife ordered us to land.”

“She could have gotten you all killed, not to mention my crew.”

“Do you have a doctor on board?”

The captain nodded, still looking annoyed. “The second mate is a paramedic. Follow me.” He turned to the other crew members. “Get that chopper tied down before it rolls off the pad. And deploy fire hoses.”

The crewmen launched into action as Odin pulled McKinney along, following Smokey, Mooch, the inconsolable Ripper, and the ship’s captain. Ripper shrieked, grabbing for Ritter’s suit sleeve and blurting out exclamations in some language McKinney didn’t recognize-possibly Dutch or German. It amazed her how quickly Ripper could transform herself.