CHAPTER FIFTEEN
HOLDEN SAT LOW in the Zodiac with Wes, riding the ocean swells and studying the large ship ahead of them as it chugged due west toward Baler Bay on the eastern coast of the largest of the Philippine Islands. The running lights of the Buffalo Soldier Class cargo ship were on, making it look like everything was completely normal, but it was impossible to miss that there wasn’t a soul wandering the decks of the large ammunition carrier. And considering there was supposed to be a crew of twenty-one contract mariners aboard, the lack of movement worried the hell out of him. There was a good chance that most of them had already been executed.
According to the CIA briefing they’d received on the sixteen-hour flight across the Pacific, the ammo ship had reported in approximately twenty-two hours ago, declaring they were having problems with their communication and global position equipment, and that they might have to take both systems offline to make repairs. A short time later, the ship had gone radio silent and its GPS transponder had stopped broadcasting its location. Since the ship had reported technical problems in advance, it was likely no one in the Navy’s Military Sealift Command would have taken note of the issue if they hadn’t been waiting for something like this to happen.
Within hours, the Navy and CIA had satellite confirmation that the vessel loaded with nearly twenty-thousand tons of Air Force bombs had diverted off course and was heading straight for the Philippines. The CIA’s worst fears had come true. A group of terrorists had captured a ship full of explosives. The area they were heading to wasn’t heavily populated in comparison to any major port in America, but a blast involving this much explosives anywhere in Baler Bay would level the nearby cities and the people living near that part of the coastline wouldn’t survive.
“We’re moving toward the bow,” Dalton’s voice announced softly in Holden’s earpiece. “We’ll be in position in ten minutes.”
“Understood,” he answered as Wes turned the Zodiac and headed toward the stern of the ship, the engine on their small inflatable whisper quiet. “Be ready to go on my word.”
In the other Zodiac with Sam and Noah, Dalton replied with a low, “Roger that.”
Silence descended again as Wes worked their boat toward the ship, avoiding the worst of the heavy wake churned up by the vessel’s massive propellers as he lined up their approach to the aft port side. Coming in this way was dangerous since the bridge was so close. If a terrorist wandered out, there was a good chance the guy would see him and Wes, but it was worth the risk. Once they were over the rail and on board, they’d be able to engage the people who’d hijacked the vessel within thirty seconds. Getting control of the bridge was critical to the success of this mission.
Holden lifted the 40mm grenade launcher to his shoulder, mentally doing the calculations necessary to make the shot. Putting a foam-covered grappling hook over the top of a moving ship’s deck railing while bobbing up and down in a small rubber raft—without bouncing it off a wall or porthole—was kind of tough.
“You going to tell me what the hell’s going on?” Wes asked, talking just loud enough to be heard over the waves slapping against the sides of the boat.
It took Holden a couple seconds to realize his friend wasn’t communicating over the team’s internal comm system. He looked over his shoulder to see Wes staring back at him in the green glow of his night vision goggles. Holden flipped off his own mic.
“What are you talking about? You sat through the same mission brief I did. We’re boarding a ship to take down an unknown number of terrorists, hopefully without getting ourselves blown to a large, red mist.”
Wes snorted as he steered the boat forward. “I know what we’re supposed to do on this mission. I’m asking you what the hell’s been eating you since we left San Diego. And don’t try and tell me it’s nothing. I’ve known you long enough to recognize when something has you pissed. Is this about what happened with Kendall and that drive-by?”
Holden ground his jaw. He wasn’t mad at Wes. He was pissed at the man who put Kendall in the hospital.
“It wasn’t a random drive-by,” he said. “It was a warning. Though if Kendall and I had ended up dead, McKinney would have been fine with that, too.”
“McKinney is the one who tried to kill you?” Wes repeated. “You’re shitting me.”
The way Wes said it made it sound like people trying to kill Holden was an everyday occurrence. Which, now that he thought about it, was pretty close to the truth. Except this wasn’t some terrorist looking to put a bullet in him. It was someone he never would have expected.
“He’s the one who called me at the hospital,” Holden said. “He wanted to make sure I knew he was the one who sent those guys after me. The fact that Kendall was with me was irrelevant to him.”
Wes stared at him. At least, it looked like he was. It was hard to tell with NVGs on. “Why the hell would McKinney try to kill you? I know it got ugly there for a bit, but you said he’s like a father to you or something. Besides, you stole that little piece of tech for him.”
Saying things had gotten ugly with McKinney when he and Wes had asked to borrow the equipment to break into Kimber’s office was an understatement. McKinney had incorrectly assumed he was going back to working for the old man permanently. When Holden informed him that he wasn’t, he and Wes had gotten into a tussle with McKinney’s muscle.
There’d been a minute there when Holden thought the only way the situation was going to end was with someone dead. Probably more than a few someone’s. But fortunately, the fight ended before it got to that. Holden figured McKinney had accepted the reality that stealing something for him in exchange for using the gear had been a one-time deal.
Maybe he hadn’t.
Holden glanced at the ship. They’d be in position within a minute or two. He flipped on his comm for a second and let Dalton know, then flipped it back off and turned back to Wes. “I think McKinney’s nervous the people we stole that thing from are going to find him through me. He said the drive-by was a reminder of the kind of reach he has and that if I do anything stupid—like rat him out—he’ll kill me. I think that’s bullshit. I think he wanted his goons to kill me yesterday and since they didn’t, he’s calling it a warning.”
“What are we going to do?” Wes asked.
They were getting closer to the ammo ship, so there wasn’t time for a complex answer. He hefted his 40mm grenade launcher, checked to make sure the safety was off, then gave the simplest response he could.
“I’m going to make sure McKinney understands that if he ever comes close to harming a single hair on Kendall’s head again, I’ll fucking erase him from existence.”
Holden knew Wes was about to commit himself to helping with something that would likely land the both of them in prison. If they were lucky. As much as he appreciated that, Holden couldn’t let him do it. Before Wes could say anything, he flipped his comm on and gave Dalton the go order then refocused his attention on his target, squeezing the trigger on the grenade launcher and sending the grappling hook sailing over the railing forty feet above him. There was a barely audible thud, then he was pulling the steel cable back in, setting the foam-covered claws into the space between two rails and attaching the small motorized ascender.
“Let’s go shoot something,” he said, thumbing the button on the ascender and allowing it to jerk him out of the boat and up the side of the ammo ship.
* * * * *
There were four terrorists on the bridge holding the ship’s captain and two of his senior officers at gunpoint, making them sail the vessel closer and closer to Baler Bay. Two other crew members were lying dead on the deck.
He and Wes didn’t announce themselves, didn’t try to make the other men drop their weapons or give themselves up. They simply stepped onto the bridge and shot all four of the terrorists in the head.
“How many more are there?” Holden asked, stepping around the dead bad guys and approaching the captain.
The man’s eyes were locked on the bodies on the floor, seemingly mesmerized by the growing pools of blood. Finally, he looked back up at him and Wes.
“At least half a dozen that I’ve seen, but there are probably more.” Gray-haired, with weather-worn skin, he had a beard and mustache. He motioned towards the front of the ship. “They’re all in the main cargo holds, rigging the munitions to blow. They locked most of the crew in one of the topside MIL-CON containers, but they took some of the engineers down with them below deck. Don’t know why though.”
Holden could think of several reasons the terrorists would want a handful of ship engineers and none of them were good. He pushed those thoughts aside and relayed the limited information he had to Dalton and his guys, then helped Wes clear the four bodies. It was doubtful the terrorists on the bridge were wearing any kind of improvised explosive device, but the only way to make sure was to search the corpses by hand. Once that was done, they checked the terrorists’ weapons and handed then them off to the ship’s crew.
“Barricade yourself in here,” Holden told the captain. “If anyone attempts to come in that doesn’t look like a Navy SEAL, kill them.”
“Should we attempt to re-establish communications with MSC?” the man asked urgently. “Get our GPS transponders back online and turn the ship out to open water?”
Holden shook his head as he followed Wes out the door. “No to all three. I don’t want to do anything that might give the remaining terrorists a clue the situation has changed.”
Wes was waiting for him on the stairs leading down to the depths of the cargo hold.
“Remember to watch what you’re shooting at down there,” Holden reminded him softly. “Some of it doesn’t get along well with bullets, even the kind we’re shooting.”
His teammate laughed as he led the way down. “Since when did you start worrying about being careful? That’s not like you.”
“Since I have someone back in the world waiting for me,” Holden said.
Wes turned to look back at him. “Then I guess I’ll have to be careful and make sure you make it home in one, undamaged, piece.”
Then slipped down into the endless maze of ammunition pallets, shipping containers, ship bulkheads, and pitch-black corners and corridors. Holden knew the ship’s crew didn’t spend a lot of time in these parts of the ship, besides from the minimum required inspections. But it was impossible to miss the signs of recent activity—boxes and containers broken open, satchel bags of explosives lodged in between the larger munitions. Here and there he saw the wires running to other compartments. Wires connected to explosives that would make sure the entire ship went up at once.
The urge to dismantle the IEDs was nearly overwhelming, but he and Wes resisted. They needed to clear out the targets first, then they’d come through with the ship engineers and clear the explosive devices.
Holden heard the first group of terrorists long before he saw them coming around a stack of two-thousand bombs on pallets. There were three terrorists and one engineer laying wires out from the next compartment to this one. The explosive charges had already been set, and Holden didn’t want to even imagine what it would do to the ship—and his teammates—if this huge stack of bombs all blew at once.
One of the terrorists caught sight of him and Holden opened his mouth to shout a warning while at the same time he reached for the handgun holstered at his hip.
Holden took him out while Wes dealt with the other two. The poor engineer stood there frozen in place, his eyes wide.
“We’re US Navy SEALs.” Holden approached the man, backing him toward the nearest dark corridor between the stacks of general purpose bombs. “I need you to stay hidden and be quiet. Can you do that for me?”
The man nodded his head slowly, even as he darted a quick glance at the demo bags full of explosives lodged among the warheads around him. Holden knew the guy wasn’t thrilled at the idea of hiding in the middle of a stack of bombs rigged to blow, but it wasn’t like they could trust him to defuse the explosive devices. The man was obviously too rattled for that. And Holden couldn’t waste time doing it himself.
“Don’t worry about any of that,” Holden murmured softly, like he was talking to a child. “Just stay right here, okay?”
At his nod, Holden turned and caught up with Wes. In his earpiece, Dalton announced his team was working their way toward the aft of the ship, clearing targets as they found them. The captain had drastically underestimated the number of terrorists involved in this hijacking. There were a lot more than half a dozen bad guys down there.
He and Wes continued to move through the dark cargo holds, finding more terrorists and taking them out. One of the bad guys got off a long burst of automatic weapon fire in their direction. Wes put the man down as fast as he could, but the damage was done. There was no way the remaining terrorists hadn’t heard that. They had to finish this mission before some psycho went suicidal and blew the explosives they’d already rigged. It might not be enough to get the entire ship to go up, but it would easily be enough to kill all of them.
Holden heard Dalton shouting orders over the radio and could tell his buddies were in trouble. It sounded like they were pinned down in one of the forward compartments just ahead of them.
Holden didn’t think. He simply took off running, knowing Wes would follow.
He sprinted into the forward compartment, sliding to a halt when he saw Dalton, Noah, and Sam pinned down behind some crates. The five bad guys were hiding behind much better cover than his Teammates, blazing away at Dalton and his team with AK-47’s on full automatic. But Holden had come in nearly behind them, which gave him a much better shot at them. He could take them all out. Unless they got him first.
As if sensing he was there, all three turned his way. He could have dived to the side, tried to roll for the nearest crate. But instead, he walked toward them, bringing his weapon up and slowly squeezing off one accurate shot after the other.
His actions probably seemed insane, but they weren’t. Not for someone who trusted his Teammates as much as Holden did. He was completely exposed, but he knew his buddies would cover him and keep the terrorists from getting a clear shot at him.
Holden would take the terrorists out.
Dalton, Wes, Noah, and Sam would keep him alive long enough to do it.
Now that he thought about it, maybe it was insane to trust someone that much.
He continued forward anyway, shooting until there was no one left standing in front of him. When he was done, silence descended, broken only by the horrible ringing in his ears from shooting in the close, echoing confines of the ship’s hold.
Noah checked the bodies while Dalton and Sam disappeared toward the aft of the ship, heading out to clear the explosive devices.
“That was kind of crazy, standing out in the open like Wyatt Earp,” Wes said, giving him a reproachful look. “I’m pretty sure Kendall wouldn’t consider that being careful.”
Holden grimaced. Wes was right. He hadn’t done a very good job of that whole careful thing. “Maybe we could forget to mention that part to anybody…ever.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard since Headquarters is going to slap a big Classified sticker over this whole mission,” Wes said. “But you probably need to stop acting like you’re a single guy with nothing to lose because we both know that’s not true anymore.”
Wes walked away, leaving Holden standing in the middle of a room full of dead bodies, ears still ringing. A smile spread across his face at his friend’s words. It was a little scary, having someone mean this much to him, but he liked it.
There was a time when a long flight home from a mission would mean nothing more than a chance to catch up on his sleep. But this time he knew he’d spend every second of it thinking about getting back to Kendall…and all the things they’d do when he got there.
Thank goodness his uniform pants were loose because the trip home was going to be agony.