Clive Cussler - Black Wind

As the four sets of eyes locked on one another, Gutierrez's reflexes were already in motion. The trained SEAL quickly aimed his weapon at the guard and squeezed the trigger, a full second before the other man reacted. In a quick burst, three rounds spat from his gun, striking the guard in a clean cluster across his chest. A stunned look spread over the guard's face as he was thrown back against the bulkhead, but his finger instinctively tightened in the trigger guard. A wild spray of fire burst from his assault rifle, ripping across the deck and toward Gutierrez. The SEAL stood helpless as a seam of lead flew in his direction before the gunman sagged to the floor dead.

It took a split second for Gutierrez to take stock. He had been hit by one round, which nipped him in the thigh. He felt a warm rivulet of blood from the wound run down his leg and collect in his boot. Another round nearly struck him in the abdomen but was deflected by his own machine gun. The bullet had smashed into the MP5K's breech, he realized, and rendered the firearm useless.

The other men on the bridge noticed it as well. The burly captain, standing just a few feet from Gutierrez, let go of the ship's wheel and plunged at the wounded SEAL. Unsteady from the wound to his left leg, Gutierrez stood inert as the captain barreled into him. The captain used his bulk to throw a bear hug around the SEAL and then slam him into the helm. Gutierrez could feel the breath forced from his lungs and felt as if his ribs were going to snap as the captain tried to squeeze the life out of him. But in Gutierrez's right hand, he still held the compact MP5 machine gun, which he swung upward and smashed against the back of the captain's skull. To his astonishment, nothing happened. The captain seemed to squeeze even tighter, and Gutierrez could see a kaleidoscope of stars starting to shimmer before his eyes as the oxygen in his blood ebbed. Sharp pains flared from the wound in his leg while hammering pangs throbbed against his temples. Again, he thrust the gun's stock against the man's head and, again, the grip seemed only to tighten. Desperation started to seep into the SEAL's mind as he approached the verge of passing out and he wildly thrust the gun at the man's head again and again. Gutierrez sensed his body falling and presumed he was blacking out. But he was suddenly jarred conscious by a collision to his body.

The repeated blows had finally knocked the stubborn captain cold and the two of them fell hard to the deck, Gutierrez still embraced in the captain's bear hug. The SEAL gasped for breath as the man's iron grip fell slack and he crawled to his knees inhaling deeply.

“An impressive display. But, regrettably, it shall be your last.” The voice of Kang spat with the flavor of venom. While grappling with the yacht's captain, Kang had approached and leveled a Glock automatic pistol at Gutierrez's head. The SEAL searched for a defense but there was none. The guard's AK-74 was wedged in the dead man's hands across the bridge and his own weapon lay empty and useless in his right hand. On his knees, weakened from gunshots and the struggle with the captain, there was nothing he could do. With a resolute look of defiance, he stared up at Kang and the Glock pistol aimed inches from his face.

The single gunshot burst through the bridge like a crack of thunder. Gutierrez felt nothing and was surprised by the sudden stunned look in Kang's eyes. Then he realized that the Korean's hand, the one holding the pistol, had disappeared along with the gun amid a shower of crimson blood. Two more cracks filled the air and a splattering of blood flew out of Kang's left knee and right thigh. With a garbled cry of agony, Kang fell to the deck, grasping the remains of his bleeding hand and writhing in misery. As he fell, Gutierrez looked across the bridge to where the gunshots had originated.

Standing across the deck in the port doorway, Dirk held an AK-74 at eye level, the smoking barrel still leveled at the prone figure of Kang. A relieved look spread across his face as he made eye contact with Gutierrez and realized the SEAL was still alive.

Dirk walked across the bridge, noting the pilotless yacht was still barreling across the width of the Han River at nearly 40 knots. Off the starboard beam but falling rapidly behind was the SEAL support ship, fighting to keep up with the faster yacht. Across the river, but now directly ahead, was the brightly illuminated river dredge he had seen before, slowly scooping a channel lane near the opposite bank. Dirk stared at the dredge a moment, thinking of the dead SEAL on the dock and the Coast Guardsmen killed in Alaska. Then he turned back to the wriggling figure of Kang and stepped close to the mogul, who was bleeding heavily onto the deck.

“Your ride is over, Kang. Enjoy your stay in hell.”

Kang peered up at Dirk with an angry look and grunted an obscenity but Dirk turned and walked away before he could finish. Stepping to the helm, he reached down and yanked Gutierrez to his feet.

“Nice going, partner, but what took you so long?” Gutierrez rasped.

“Just had to get a few things ironed out,” Dirk replied as he half-dragged the SEAL to the side railing.

“We better stop this cruise ship now,” Gutierrez grunted. “I didn't expect to find the big cheese aboard. Intel will be anxious to get him under the hot spotlight.”

“I'm afraid Kang has an appointment with the grim reaper,” Dirk said, grabbing a life preserver off the bulkhead and throwing it over Gutierrez's head and shoulders.

“My orders are to take him alive,” Gutierrez protested. But before he could argue further, Dirk grabbed him firmly by the lapels and rolled the both of them over the side railing and into the water below. Dirk ensured he was positioned beneath Gutierrez and took the brunt of the blow as they struck and bounced across the water, nearly knocking the wind out of him from the high-speed impact. After a quick submersion, they bobbed to the surface as the yacht roared past them, Dirk holding the SEAL commander afloat.

The crew of the following support ship saw them go over the side and quickly broke off the chase to pull them out of the water. But Dirk's and Gutierrez's eyes were on the yacht as they floated in the water, watching Kang's vessel race across the river. The Benetti's course held firm as it crossed midriver and streaked toward the dredge and the opposite bank. As it drew closer to the opposite shore, it became apparent to everyone who watched that the vessel was headed directly for the dredge. The dredge's pilot, seeing the speeding yacht heading toward him, let loose with a long blast from his whistle but the rapidly approaching boat held steady.

With a thunderous shriek, the gleaming white yacht burst into the dredge ship like a charging bull, her bow plowing into the rusty steel vessel amidships. Striking at top speed, the yacht disintegrated into a cloud of white smoke, followed by a small fireball that floated into the air as the fuel tanks were crushed and ignited. Splinters of wood and debris rained across the dredge and around the river as the mashed remains of the vessel slid off the dredge and sank to the bottom. When the smoke and flames cleared, there was little evidence to indicate a 165-foot yacht had existed moments before.

Dirk and Gutierrez drifted in the river, watching the carnage with grim captivation as a rescue dinghy from the support ship puttered toward them.

“Might be hell to pay for not bringing him in alive,” Gutierrez said after the flames and smoke had dissipated.

Dirk shook his head bitterly. “So he could spend the rest of his days in a country club prison? No thanks.”

“You get no argument from me. I think we just bestowed a colossal favor upon humanity. But his death might bring repercussions. My superiors are not going to be happy if we create an international incident with Korea.”