Dana Stabenow - Prepared For Rage

Akil ejected the magazine and slapped in another.

"I didn't think you'd do it," the man said. He couldn't stop grinning.

"You were wrong."

"I intercepted the Falcon's transmissions about the freighter. I jammed the small boat's radio calls. I still didn't think you'd actually do it."

"We don't have much time," Akil said.

Riley quoted the words he had spoken in that hotel room in Istanbul. " 'Nothing will look out of the ordinary until the very last moment, and by then it will be too late.' I didn't think you could do it."

"We haven't done it yet, Riley." Akil holstered the pistol. "What about communications?"

Riley reached up to flip a switch. "I slaved all communications to a single switch," he said, as if he were expecting applause.

"Telephones? Internet access?"

"All," Riley said. "No one can call in or out."

"Cell phones?"

"I don't have any control over those."

"All right. Show me the controls for the 76mm."

Riley folded his arms across his chest. "Show me the money first."

Akil stared at him.

"I want my money before we go any further with this," Riley said. "I'm about to be a very wanted man. Maybe even one of the ten most. Maybe I'll even be on America 's Most Wanted."

The idiot sounded proud of it.

"I'll never be able to show my face in America again," Riley said. "It'll be expensive, staying in hiding. Show me the money. Isa."

He gave a crow of laughter at Isa's look. "Did you think I didn't know? Did you think I couldn't figure it out? Of course you are Isa. Zarqawi's right-hand man. Why do you think my price was so high?"

"If you knew who I was, you could have turned me in for about the same price as what I'm paying you," Isa said. "Why didn't you?"

Riley, still with that rictus of a smile on his face, said, "I figured this would be more fun."

ON BOARD SHUTTLE ENDEAVOUR

"T minus twenty-two. Endeavour," MCC said, "we're going on hold here." Curses echoed over everyone's headsets. "What's the matter?" the Arabian Knight said. "What's wrong?"

"Relax," Kenai said to him, "there's no problem, everything's fine." She switched channels. "Rick, what's the problem?"

"Ah, something's going on with the GLS. Sit tight, they'll fix it." Kenai mentally condemned the ground launch sequencer to the city dump.

At least her bladder was empty.

ON BOARD USCG CUTTER MUNRO

Cal wondered if he was imagining the list to port. Half his remaining crew was on the hangar deck, sitting around the helo in lawn chairs, cameras at the ready. The other half were lined up along the port side. "I sure hope somebody's minding the store," he said. As he said the words, he heard a noise.

"What the hell's that?" he said, in a low voice so as not to alarm the Munros, although he saw Admiral Barkley's head turn. The senator had gone down to the hangar deck to work the crowd, and Admiral Matson had gone with him.

The XO cocked his head. "It sounds like the 76mm."

"That's what I thought."

They looked at each other. "XO, I don't think even the gunnies would think shooting off the 76mm during a space shuttle launch was a good thing."

"No," the XO said decidedly.

"Not to mention which, GMC and almost all of the gunnies are on liberty."

"There's that, too," the XO said.

They both drifted back inside the bridge. "OOD, did you hear that?"

Gilmartin was on the phone. "Yes, Captain, I'm calling CIC to find out what's going on but I'm getting no answer."

"Call the armory."

"I did, sir. No answer there, either."

"Get the BMOW down on the gun deck right now and find out what the hell is going on."

"Yes, sir." Gilmartin jerked his chin at Myers, who reached for the IMC.

He didn't live to make the pipe. The silenced bullet took him in the back and he fell forward with barely a cry.

They all stared at the body on the deck, the red stain spreading beneath him, uncomprehending.

"If everyone will please remain calm until we are through, we will leave and no one else will have to be hurt."

A man in casual clothes stepped into the bridge. He was holding a small automatic pistol in each hand, and at first Cal thought stupidly of John Wayne. It was so dark on the bridge Cal couldn't make out the man's features. His voice was young, with an edge of excitement for all his apparent composure.

He stood aside and a second man shepherded the Munros into the bridge at gunpoint. In the dim light Cal could see that Doreen was white and shaking. Nick looked angry. He thought he caught a glimpse of a body sprawled on the bridge wing. Admiral Barkley. Christ.

On the bridge were Gilmartin, the XO, and himself, along with the Munros. He couldn't tell how many pirates there were, if indeed these were pirates. Somehow he didn't think so.

He himself was standing a little in back of the XO. It was dark on the bridge. He might be out of range of the glow from the radar screens. He put his hand in the small of the XO's back and pressed.

After a moment of hesitation, the XO took a step forward. "What the hell's going on here?"

"Who are you?"

"Captain Schuyler, I'm in command here," Taffy said. "And you are?"

Instead of answering the first pirate took a step forward to peer into Taffy's face. "You look like a Muslim, friend."

"And you look like a pirate, asshole. What's going on?" The XO took another step forward. "What do you want with my ship?"

"Yeah." Gilmartin had somehow intuited what Cal wanted, attention diverted from whatever it was he was going to do. He rose to his feet from where he'd been trying unsuccessfully to revive Myers. "Good question, sir. Just what the hell is going on?"

As BMC and the XO stepped forward Cal took a step back, until he could feel the air coming through the starboard side door.

"Stay back!" the pirate said. As small as the pistol was, he'd already killed Myers with it. They froze. "All of you, back behind navigation." He snapped a phrase in what Cal thought must be Arabic, and the second man herded the Munros, Gilmartin, and the XO behind the nav table. No one betrayed his presence by so much as a glance and Cal took advantage of it to duck down on all fours and peer out the door.

He couldn't hear anything, and he couldn't see anything. He slipped outside, duckwalked aft, and pulled himself hand over hand headfirst down the flight of stairs to the small deck that gave off his quarters. He got the door open and ran for the phone.

He cursed and slammed the receiver down. "Dead." He keyed his radio. Dead. He went for the computer. Access denied.

Hijacked two miles off the coast of goddamn Florida. What the hell did they want? What justified this big an operation?

He felt a sudden chill. The space shuttle.

The 76mm. They were going to use it to bring down the shuttle.

They must have been on board that freighter. They took the small boat when Mun 1 did the ROA. He spared an agonized thought for the boat crew, but he knew there was nothing he could do for them right now. The pirates, no, these weren't pirates, they were terrorists. Call the sons of bitches what they were. The terrorists had pretended the radio went bust and brought the small boat back to the cutter.

"Son of a bitch," he said out loud. "We actually brought them on board."

They had the bridge, CIC, and the 76mm for sure. Probably Main Control. They had to have Main Control if they wanted to maneuver the ship. They'd want control of the ship so he couldn't take it back and screw with their aim.

The gun locker. Forward of the hangar deck, just off the boat deck. One deck down from his cabin.

He cracked open his door and listened. The interior of the ship was as quiet as he'd ever heard it, the online diesel muted. He slipped into the passageway and moved quickly into Chief's Country. He opened every door he came to. No one was home, they were all out on deck watching the launch, on duty, or on liberty.