Andy McDermott - The Midas Legacy

A new fear gave him extra strength. He let out a roar as he drove the bar forward, the protruding bone of his ankle feeling as if it were about to be crushed—

The deck plate cracked, and the crowbar suddenly jerked free. He threw it down and pulled out his aching foot, then ran as best he could for the open end of the corridor.

The dark waters spread out before him. He jumped—

A moment of freefall, giving him a glimpse of a man bearing a bulky weapon leaping ashore from the incoming ship — then he hit the sea.

The shock of the temperature change blew all thoughts of the pain from his mind. Bubbles swirling around him, he fought through his disorientation and struggled to the surface—

The superstructure smashed into the derelict building.

Bricks disintegrated, rotten beams exploding into matchwood as several tons of twisted metal ploughed through the ruin. The wreckage slewed around, the section that had been ripped loose from the ship tearing free and dropping on its side with a cacophonous bang that shattered concrete and sent boulder-sized chunks of the dockside tumbling into the water. Waves pounded Eddie, washing over his head. Choking, he turned to swim clear—

The fallen deck section teetered, then toppled into the dock.

A wall of water hit the fleeing Yorkshireman like a tsunami, pounding him against the wall. He scraped painfully along it until the wavefront passed and he was able to right himself and resurface. Secondary ripples smacked his face. He grabbed one of the rusty metal pillars along the dock’s side, pulling himself above the waterline.

The first thing he heard over the waves was the continuing crack of gunfire as the guards faced off against De Klerx’s team. But then he picked out something else, close by — a staccato chak-chak-chak —

The realisation that it was a rotary grenade launcher came a split second before the first explosion.

Five forty-millimetre high explosive rounds detonated in rapid succession, the blasts rippling across the makeshift roadblock and sending the guards and pieces thereof flying. The shooting stopped.

The ship’s erstwhile pilot, Beel, regarded the devastation with satisfaction, keeping the Milkor and its last grenade at the ready in case any resistance remained.

It did — but not where he was looking.

A bullet from the crane tore through his shoulder.

The sniper felt a surge of vengeance-fuelled exultation as he saw the man on the dockside fall. He stopped the crane’s turn. The hanging deck was buried inside the collapsed building, the other section sinking into the water beside it. From his elevated vantage point, he now had a view across the inshore part of the boatyard — and saw for the first time the attacking force.

Several armed men in wetsuits were hurrying along the road to the docks. Behind them, a flatbed truck pulled out from behind the cover of a half-built boat. There was something large on its back; he couldn’t identify it, but he had seen it taken into the factory earlier. The invaders hadn’t just killed his boss, they were stealing from him too!

The wetsuited men jogged to the mast blocking the road and dragged it clear. The truck headed for the dock.

‘You’re not getting away,’ growled the sniper, taking aim again.

De Klerx leaned from the passenger-side window to shout instructions to his men. ‘Get to the ship and load the Crucible aboard! But watch out for whoever fired that shot. There’s still someone—’

The windscreen shattered — and the driver’s lower jaw blew apart in a hideous shower of bone and shredded tissue as a rifle bullet ripped through it into his throat.

Blood sprayed across Anastasia’s face. She sat frozen and stunned for a moment, then screamed. De Klerx threw open his door and hauled the blonde out as a second round smacked into the middle seat behind them. Now driverless, the truck veered off the road to crash into a stack of barrels. The Dutchman pulled Anastasia down behind the front wheel as the engine stalled. ‘Sniper!’ he yelled. ‘In the crane!’

His men scattered as more shots came from on high.

Eddie dragged himself up on to the dockside just in time to avoid being mown down by the now-unmanned ship as it ground along the concrete. He dropped behind the side of its hull, but the gunfire from the crane wasn’t aimed at him. The sniper had found new targets. He spotted the truck, and De Klerx and Anastasia hiding behind the stationary vehicle.

Another shot. One of De Klerx’s men fell, the leg of his wetsuit flapping open as the round sliced through his thigh. Retaliatory fire lanced up at the crane, only to clang ineffectually off the heavy pivot plates beneath its cabin. The sniper had superior positioning, Eddie saw, protected by the metalwork around him, and a clear view of every foot of ground between the truck and the slowing ship. Even if he’d still had his gun, shooting the guard would be difficult…

At least, if he shot a bullet .

He turned, seeing the wounded pilot — and the distinctive six-barrelled shape of a Milkor MGL grenade launcher beside him. There had only been five explosions…

Staying low, Eddie hurried to the downed man. ‘I’m with De Klerx!’ he said as Beel groped for a holstered pistol. ‘Just need to borrow this.’

He scooped up the MGL, pulling a release hook beneath its stubby barrel to swing it open at the breech. As he’d thought, there was one unused round remaining. He snapped the weapon shut. He had fired similar launchers before, both during his military career and afterwards. They were reasonably accurate as such weapons went, but relied less on pinpoint targeting than blast and shrapnel to do damage.

Now he would have to be dead-on first time.

The launcher was fitted with a simple reflex sight, a red cross-hair glowing in the eyepiece. He fixed the reticle on the cabin’s open window, adjusted for elevation and windage — and fired.

The shot made surprisingly little noise. A reflected flash as the grenade arced past a floodlight, then it was lost to sight—

The cabin exploded. The burning torso and one remaining leg of the sniper somersaulted from the crane and smashed down inside a small boat, toppling it from its stands. ‘B3, hit,’ Eddie said, before calling out across the suddenly silent dockyard. ‘It’s clear! Come on!’

‘Eddie!’ Nina’s voice. He looked across the ship’s bow to see her and Spencer running down the quay between the two dry docks. They reached its end, passing the crane as Lonmore and Petra emerged hesitantly from behind a container.

De Klerx’s men regrouped and headed for the ship, two of them carrying the wounded man. The Dutchman and Anastasia climbed back into the truck, restarting it. Nina hugged her husband as she reached him. ‘Thank God you’re okay! And, uh, wet.’

‘Good job you’re wearing a wetsuit,’ he replied. ‘Is everyone else all right? Apart from the obvious,’ he added, assessing the injured man’s leg wound; he would live.

‘We’re fine,’ said Lonmore, breathless from the short run. ‘Spencer, what about you? That explosion behind us — we thought you’d been caught in it!’

‘I’m fine, Dad.’ An awkward pause, then the two men embraced. ‘I’m glad you are too.’

‘We’re not out of here yet,’ cautioned Eddie. Over the truck, he heard a new sound: sirens. Distant, coming from the nearest town, but approaching quickly. ‘Everyone get on the boat.’ He tossed the MGL on to the bow, then ushered Nina and the Lonmores aboard.

De Klerx’s men stayed on the dockside, waiting for their boss to arrive. The Dutchman pulled the truck up alongside them and jumped out. ‘Load the Crucible!’ he ordered. They climbed up to release the chains holding the great sphere in place.