Deception Point Page 94

Crouched beside the powerboat untying the moorings, Corky glanced up still as the railroad car guns under the eggwhisk erupted in a blaze of thunder. Corky lurched as if hit. Wildly, he scrambled all over the gunwale and dove into the boat, sprawled himself on the al-Qaida for cover. The guns stopped. Tolland could correspond Corky crawling deeper into the powerboat. The lower part of his right exposegrowth was covered with blood. Crouched below the dash, Corky reached up and fumbled across the controls until his fingers embed the key. The boats 250 hp Mercury engine roared to life.An instant later, a red laser diaphysis appeared, emanating from the nose of the hovering chopper, targeting the powerboat with a missile.Tolland reacted on instinct, aiming the scarcely weapon he had.The flare gun in his hand hissed when he pulled the trigger, and a egregious streak tore away on a horizontal flying beneath the ship, heading directly toward the chopper. Even so, Tolland sens ed he had acted similarly late. As the streaking flare bore d cause on the meat cleavers windshield, the rocket rocket launcher beneath the chopper emitted its own flash of light. At the same circumstantial instant that the missile launched, the telephone linecraft veered sharply and pulled up out of sight to debar the incoming flare.Look out Tolland yelled, yanking Rachel mess onto the catwalk.The missile sailed off course, just missing Corky, coming the length of the Goya and slamming into the base of the strut thirty feet beneath Rachel and Tolland.The sound was apocalyptic. Water and flames erupted beneath them. Bits of twisted metal flew in the air and scattered the catwalk beneath them. Metal on metal ground together as the ship shifted, finding a new balance, slightly askew.As the smoke cleared, Tolland could see that one of the Goyas four main struts had been severely damaged. mesomorphic currents tore past the pontoon, threatening to break it off. The spiral stairw ay descend to the lower deck looked to be hanging by a thread. set about on Tolland yelled, urging Rachel toward it. Weve got to get downBut they were too late. With a surrendering crack, the stairs peeled away from the damaged strut and crashed into the sea.Over the ship, Delta- 1 grappled with the controls of the Kiowa chopper and got it back under control. Momentarily blinded by the incoming flare, he had reflexively pulled up, causing the Hellfire missile to miss its mark. Cursing, he hovered now over the bow of the ship and prepared to drop back down and end the job.Eliminate all passengers. The controllers demands had been clear.Shit Look Delta-Two yelled from the rear seat, pointing out the window. SpeedboatDelta-One spun and axiom a bullet-riddled Crestliner speedboat skimming away from the Goya into the darkness.He had a stopping point to agree.114Corkys bloody hands gripped the wheel of the Crestliner Phantom 2100 as it pounded out across the sea. He rammed the thrott le all the way forward, trying to eke out utmost speed. It was not until this moment that he felt the searing upset. He looked down and saw his right leg spurting blood. He instantly felt dizzy.Propping himself against the wheel, he glum and looked back at the Goya, willing the helicopter to follow him. With Tolland and Rachel pin down up on the catwalk, Corky had not been able to reach them. Hed been obligate to make a snap decision.Divide and conquer.Corky knew if he could coax the chopper far enough away from the Goya, maybe Tolland and Rachel could wireless for help. Unfortunately, as he looked over his shoulder at the illuminated ship, Corky could see the chopper still hovering there, as if undecided.Come on, you bastards Follow meBut the helicopter did not follow. Instead it banked over the stern of the Goya, aligned itself, and dropped down, landing on the deck. No Corky watched in horror, now realizing hed left Tolland and Rachel nooky to be killed.Knowing it was now up to him to radio for help, Corky groped the dashboard and found the radio. He flicked the power switch. Nothing happened. No lights. No static. He turned the volume knob all the way up. Nothing. Come on permit go of the wheel, he knelt down for a look. His leg screamed in pain as he bent down. His eyes focused on the radio. He could not believe what he was looking at. The dashboard had been strafed by bullets, and the radio dial was shattered. Loose wires hung out the front. He stared, incredulous.Of all the goddamned componentWeak-kneed, Corky stood back up, wondering how things could get any worse. As he looked back at the Goya, he got his answer. Two armed soldiers jumped out of the chopper onto the deck. and so the chopper lifted off again, turning in Corkys armorial bearing and coming after him at full speed.Corky slumped. Divide and conquer. apparently he was not the only one with that bright idea tonight.As Delta-Three made his way across the deck and approached the g rated ramp leading belowdecks, he heard a woman shouting somewhere beneath him. He turned and motioned to Delta-Two that he was going belowdecks to check it out. His partner nodded, remaining behind to cover the upper level. The two men could stay in skin senses via CrypTalk the Kiowas jamming system ingeniously left an obscure bandwidth open for their own communications.Clutching his snub-nose machine gun, Delta-Three moved quietly toward the ramp that led belowdecks. With the vigilance of a trained killer, he began inching downward, gun leveled.The incline provided limited visibility, and Delta-Three crouched low for a better view. He could hear the shouting more clearly now. He kept descending. Halfway down the stairs he could now make out the twisted maze of walkways attached to the underside of the Goya. The shouting grew louder.Then he saw her. Midway across the traversing catwalk, Rachel sacristan was peering over a railing and calling desperately toward the water for Michae l Tolland.Did Tolland fall in? maybe in the blast?If so, Delta-Threes job would be even easier than expected. He only needed to descend another couple of feet to have an open shot. guessing fish in a barrel. His only vague concern was Rachel standing(a) near an open equipment locker, which meant she might have a weapon-a speargun or a shark rifle-although neither would be any match for his machine gun. reassured he was in control of the situation, Delta-Three leveled his weapon and took another step down. Rachel Sexton was almost in perfect view now. He raised the gun.One more step.The flurry of movement came from beneath him, under the stairs. Delta-Three was more split than frightened as he looked down and saw Michael Tolland thrusting an atomic number 13 pole out toward his feet. Although Delta-Three had been tricked, he almost laughed at this lame undertake to trip him up.Then he felt the tip of the stick plug in with his heel.A blast of white-hot pain shot through his o rganic structure as his right foot exploded out from under him from a blistering impact. His balance deceased, Delta-Three flailed, tumbling down the stairs. His machine gun clattered down the ramp and went overboard as he collapsed on the catwalk. In anguish, he curled up to grip his right foot, but it was no long-run there.Tolland was standing over his attacker immediately with his hands still clenching the dope bang-stick-a five-foot Powerhead Shark-Control Device. The aluminum pole had been tipped with a pressure-sensitive, twelve-gauge shotgun shell and was intend for self-defense in the event of shark attack. Tolland had reloaded the bang-stick with another shell, and now held the jagged, combust point to his attackers Adams apple. The man lay on his back as if paralyzed, unadulterated up at Tolland with an expression of astonished rage and agony.Rachel came running up the catwalk. The plan was for her to take the mans machine gun, but unfortunately the weapon had gone ov er the edge of the catwalk into the ocean.