Клайв Касслер - Marauder

The sonic boom of the round’s shock wave followed immediately after, rattling the Gator .

“Successful hit,” MacD said with no satisfaction.

“Acquire target two,” Max said.

MacD adjusted the laser sternward under the first crane.

“Ready.”

“Firing.”

MacD waited another five seconds. It was as if he had drawn a bull’s-eye on the ship. The shell ripped through the hull like it was made of crepe paper.

The bow of the Centaurus was already settling into the water.

“Keep going,” Max said.

The next round went under cargo bay two. Three rounds, three targets hit. If it hadn’t been in service of such an awful purpose, MacD would have been overjoyed at the display of the Corporation’s teamwork and engineering skill.

He moved back to the superstructure, placing a round directly below the bridge at the waterline. Finally, he hit the stern right above the propellers.

Normally, MacD would expect Max to say something like, “Nice work.” That seemed inappropriate given the situation.

Instead, Max said, “We’re done.”

For a moment, MacD watched the Centaurus lowering into the water. At this rate, it certainly seemed likely that the ship would hit the bottom of Sydney Harbour by the time the fireworks went off.

There was nothing else they could do for the team on board the ship. He climbed down and closed the hatch above him.

Linda looked back at him from the cockpit.

“The Chairman has a plan,” she said, as though she were trying to convince herself. “He always does.”

“Ah hope so.”

MacD’s watch said four minutes to midnight.

SEVENTY-THREE

Polk vowed to make that mystery woman pay for severing the tendons in his wrist, but he had to get the bleeding under control before he could continue his pursuit. He was almost done tying a tourniquet around his wounded arm when the first impact hit the Centaurus .

It felt and sounded like an explosion, but it wasn’t midnight yet. He wondered if the rockets had launched prematurely. Then the ship was rocked by another blast, then another, each one getting closer until one directly below him knocked him off his feet. A fifth completed the cycle, and the ship went silent again.

Someone had fired on the Centaurus . That was the only conclusion he could draw. It had to be someone involved with these intruders. Thanks to those blasts the ship was now at an incline toward the bow.

The Centaurus was sinking.

He didn’t care. The rockets would launch. Whoever was attacking him would be paralyzed by the Enervum. He would simply get in the free-fall lifeboat and wait for Jin to arrive.

With the tourniquet tight, Polk gritted through the pain and adjusted his grip on the submachine gun. The woman’s blood droplets on the white linoleum were as easy to follow as a neon sign.

He tracked them through several turns, where they ended at the door leading into the mess. She had to be hiding inside.

Polk wasn’t going to fall for another swinging ax. He had one more gas grenade, and he’d ripped the mask off her face. She was vulnerable.

It wouldn’t be as satisfying to kill her while she was unconscious. Then he realized he’d have all the time in the world with her. He could wait until she was revived and paralyzed. Then he could do whatever he wanted with her.

Polk made sure his mask had a tight seal and nudged the door ajar with his foot. He grabbed the grenade from his vest and pulled the pin out with his teeth. He spat it out, released the handle, and counted.

When he got to three, he tossed it through the gap in the door and let it close. It popped and then hissed as it began spewing gas.

He waited a reasonable amount of time, hoping to hear a thump as the woman fell. But she could have been cowering in a corner or hiding in the fridge. If the door to the refrigerator was closed, he would simply open it and let the gas in to disable her.

He heard nothing. She had to be unconscious by this time. Nonetheless, he’d be careful. For such a small woman, she was feisty, and she’d already tricked him once.

He pushed the door open, crouching as he entered with the gun leading the way.

White mist filled the room. He swept the mess, but the tables were empty, and the floor was clear. She had to be in the galley.

The door was open, which meant the gas had filled both rooms. He cautiously approached the opening.

Nobody jumped out or swung an ax. He went in and noticed the refrigerator door was open wide. He didn’t have a view of the interior, but if she was in there, she should be out cold already.

He edged in farther and saw a sight that made him smile. A pair of boots stuck out from behind the cook’s island.

Polk eagerly went over to appreciate his handiwork, temporarily forgetting the pain in his arm.

But when he rounded the island, he was shocked to see a mercenary, the smallest in the crew. His feet were smaller than Jin’s.

Then with horror, Polk realized something else. The gas mask that should have been hanging from the man’s belt was gone.

—

Polk had fallen for Sylvia’s trap perfectly. She figured he’d be so excited to see her prone body that he wouldn’t notice the difference in the boots she wore and the ones on the dead mercenary she’d dragged behind the cook’s island.

With the borrowed mask firmly on her head, she sprinted out of the galley refrigerator and leaped onto Polk’s back, wrapping her arm around his neck and her legs around his waist.

He was thrown off balance by the sudden weight shift and staggered backward, firing the submachine gun at the ceiling. Some of the bullets ricocheted off the hanging iron pots, but none of them hit her or Polk.

First, he tried to turn the weapon to shoot her, but he couldn’t get the right angle. He dropped the gun and crushed at her fingers in an attempt to get her off.

Sylvia cried out as he increased the pressure, but she didn’t let go. With her other hand, she pried at the edge of his mask and peeled it away from his face. The ambient air was now seeping into the mask, unfiltered.

She didn’t need to get it all the way off his head. Sylvia just needed to outlast him. The second he drew in a breath, he was done.

He must have realized what she was doing because he slammed her back against the refrigerator door. A jolt of pain lanced through her spine in the same place where she’d fallen down the stairs. Still, she held on, keeping a gap in the mask.

Sylvia wanted to enrage Polk, to get him so blinding mad that he’d forget what danger he was in. She knew exactly what to say.

“You haven’t heard from your wife, have you?” she yelled. “That’s because she’s dead. At the bottom of the ocean with the Marauder .”

Polk didn’t cry out, but Sylvia could feel him tremble with anger. He rammed her even harder against the door and at the same time yanked her leg to the side. The combination was enough to make her lose her grip. She fell to the floor.

Polk turned around and glared down at her, his furious eyes wide behind the mask, which was now sealed against his face again.

“I’ll kill you for that,” he growled, his chest heaving as he could finally draw a breath.

“You forgot to clear your mask,” Sylvia said.

All of the air that had contaminated the inside of the mask when she unsealed it was still in there. She hoped it was enough of a dose.

Polk looked horrified as he realized that she was right. He reached down for her, but his eyes rolled back in his head. He keeled over right on top of her.

Sylvia struggled to push him off, rolling him onto his back.

She rapidly searched his pockets for the key to the rocket control system, but the only thing she found was his phone. Maybe he had an app to deactivate the rockets and abort the launch.