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The silent trek down from the observation position had taken longer than the twenty minutes Frankle had expected, but both pairs of DIA men were in place. Bell lay beside him, sighting on the front sentry with his silenced M4 carbine. They would wait for Gerard’s signal that he had killed the rover and seized an operable SUV, then pop the sentry to make their way among the buildings to the barracks, avoiding the lights whenever possible. It was no minor relief to hear Ben’s voice an hour previously announcing they were in place, green-lighting the assault. “Uber’s here.” That kid has a way with words, Frankle thought with a smile.
Chen’s driver had come out minutes after they had gone into the barracks and sat in the car, smoking and doing something with his cell phone. It would be handy if they could surprise him there with a Taser, followed by an ampule of the powerful sedative the DIA men all carried. Like his boss, the driver had to be left alive at all costs, and they couldn’t afford to chase him all over the compound. Frankle scanned for any other stray 252s; a task made difficult in the alternating light and darkness of the compound. Nothing. He suspected the gang members not asleep were watching satellite TV in the crew section of the barracks at the opposite end of the brothel.
Not knowing the inside layout of the barracks was a real problem, hopefully one that wouldn’t blow up in their faces. There would be no one near Rostov and Chen while they were “engaged” with the women—Chen had already evicted his driver, and Frankle suspected Rostov would have his bodyguard within shouting distance, but no closer. He’s probably near the front door where he could corral anyone blundering in. Hopefully, the “gotta pee” approach will work.
Frankle’s headset chirped. “Lead, I got a ride; others are dead,” Gerard’s voice said.
Thank God! Frankle clicked his transmit button twice, then reached out and tapped Bell on his right shoulder. After waiting for the guard to present an optimal aspect, Bell’s finger tightened on the trigger. After a soft “pop” from the rifle, the guard slumped forward without another sound. Bell switched the fire selector to safe, raised to a kneeling position, and nodded. Frankle nodded, and they both stood and started toward the nearest building.
It took a few minutes to work their way around to the shaded side of the barracks behind the BMW. The Chinese driver was still sitting in the driver’s seat with his hand out the window holding a cigarette, and Frankle could see he was still looking at his cell phone screen. When he began tapping his hand on the side of the car, apparently in time with some music or dance video, Frankle crept forward with his stunner handy. He jammed the weapon into the driver’s shoulder on reaching the car and pulled the trigger. After a brief convulsion, the driver settled into a stupor, and Frankle injected an ampule of the quick-acting sedative. Within seconds, the driver was unconscious, and Frankle bound him to the seat using the seat belt.
Satisfied the driver was finished for the evening, Frankle stepped to the front door of the barracks and beckoned to Bell. When his partner was in position on the opposite side of the door, silenced pistol in hand, Frankle made what he hoped sounded like a timid knock. After a pause, he knocked again.
Behind the door, a deep voice intoned, “Chego the khochesh?” [what do you want?]
Affecting the highest voice he could, Frankle replied, “Mne nuzno polzovatsya tualetom!” [I need to use the lavatory].
“Po’shyol ‘na hui!” [Go screw yourself!]
Frankle knocked again, holding in a laugh. “Pojaluista, vpustyte menia!” [Please let me in!]
As expected, the door flew open, and Vasili’s huge hand reached out to grab Frankle by the neck. The agent grabbed his arm and pulled the big man through the door in stunned surprise, where Bell killed him with a single shot to the back of his head. The two agents grabbed Vasili as he fell, dragged him into the barracks, and dropped him in an easy chair a short distance from the door.
Frankle nodded at Bell, and they each pulled a Taser, then crept forward to listen and peek in each door in the long hallway. Eventually, each found a target, and as Bell watched him, Frankle counted down on his fingers. Upon reaching zero, Frankle plunged through his door, shot a surprised and naked Chen with his Taser, then pounced on him with flex cuffs and a gag. The sedative was not an option with Chen, as they could not risk the man dying from an allergic reaction. He looked over to find a blond woman staring back wide-eyed and clutching bedsheets across her bare chest. “Do you speak English?” Frankle said. After getting no reaction, he tried German, “Sprechen sie Deutsch?” The woman nodded, and he continued, “Ich bin ein Amerikaner, hier, um dich zu retten. Anziehen sich.” [I am an American here to save you. Get dressed.]
Frankle had just finished tightening the gag on Chen when Bell appeared at the door and tossed him the biometrics kit. The agent took Chen’s fingerprints, a blood sample, and digital photographs of his nude body at almost every angle. He flipped him on his stomach, patted him on the shoulder, and whispered in his ear, “Congratulations, Comrade. You are now the most biometrically documented man in history.” He stood and gently took the now-dressed woman by the arm and keyed his microphone. “Billy, bring it in.”
“On the way.”
As the pair stepped out into the hallway, they almost ran into Bell, carrying the unconscious Rostov over his left shoulder, with the other woman following them. Glancing at Rostov’s briefs, Frankle asked, “Not that far along, was he?”
“No, I have a weak stomach,” Bell replied.
Frankle chuckled and peered out the front door. When an SUV pulled up, and Gerard jumped out, Frankle opened the door and said, “Billy, take care of the Beemer. Steve, help Lashon with Rostov.” As Gerard pulled out his K-bar, Frankle led the two women to the SUV and helped them into the rear seat. As Bell and Kelly moved the unconscious Rostov into the middle seat, a shrill alarm sounded across the compound. “Shit! Let’s go, let’s go!” Frankle shouted, slammed the back door, and jumped into the forward passenger seat. He turned and shouted, “Alles auf den boden!” [Everybody, get down!]. Gerard jumped in, and the SUV hurtled toward the road, a cloud of dust spreading behind it. Frankle could hear automatic fire and the thuds of bullets striking the car’s body. A burst shattered the rear window, and one woman huddled on the floor screamed. Through the smashed window, he saw headlights behind them on the road. “Billy, I thought you got all the cars!”
“I did! The damn Beemer has run-flats, and I didn’t have time to do anything else!”
“Shit!” Frankle said, then keyed his microphone. “Oscar, this is Delta. We’re three minutes out, and we’ve got a tail. Over!”
Ben was going over the mathematics of the gunboat’s ETA when a strange sound got his attention. At first, he could not make out what it was, then came the unmistakable sound of automatic gunfire in the distance. Ben transmitted on his command set, “Orchid, Oscar-One, I’m hearing gunfire from the direction of the compound. Over.”
“Oscar-One, Orchid, roger, out.”
Ben jumped to his feet, grabbed a handful of chemical light sticks, trotted to the rear of the gap, activated, and dropped one. He ran ten yards up the middle of the gap, activated, and dropped another. After three more similar drops, he trotted back to his gun and reached it as Frankle’s urgent call came.
“Oscar, this is Delta. We’re three minutes out, and we’ve got a tail. Over!”
Ben keyed his microphone. “Delta from Oscar, we’re ready. The path is lit!”
“Roger, out!”
“Lope!” Ben called across to Lopez.
“Yes, sir!”
“They’ve got a tail, and we’re going to make sure we hit the driver. As soon as the first vehicle passes, open up on the second one with full auto. Aim at the lights, got it?”
“Copy, sir!”
Ben keyed his command set again. “Orchid, Oscar-one. Delta reports en route with pursuit. We are standing by to engage.”
“Oscar, Orchid-Actual, roger, act at discretion, out.”
Ben could see headlights now, bobbing on the graded road. He could intermittently see the second vehicle’s headlights through the dust billowing behind the first vehicle. He watched as the headlights reached the coast road, then turned right toward their position. The second vehicle reached the road and followed, creeping up on the first. The lead vehicle reached a point where the driver could see Ben’s chemlights and turned off the coast road, heading toward them. When the second car turned to follow, Ben shifted to the gunsight and watched in fascination as the target closed.
The first vehicle tore past them in a cloud of dust with a roar, and Ben and Lopez simultaneously pulled and held their triggers. After ten seconds of continuous firing, there was an eerie silence. Ben could see nothing through the smoke and dust at first. Then the light breeze from the northeast cleared the obscuration, and Ben could make out the car. Part of the car, anyway—their gunfire had killed the driver, and it had careened into a boulder, crushing the front half. Ben could make out something sticking out the smashed rear window. Ben stood for a better look and realized it was a human arm. Then next thing he knew, he was bending over and vomiting. He was still leaning over ten seconds later when Lopez shouted, “Sir, are you OK?”
Ben stood upright, shook himself, picked up the gun, and said, “Yes. Let’s go!” He gave the car one last look, then trotted after Lopez down the gap. The SUV had effectively cleared the underbrush down to the beach, making the going a lot easier for Ben and Lopez on the return. They were halfway to the boat when Ben’s command set buzzed.
“Oscar-One, Orchid-Actual, warning, Chinese vehicles approaching on the coast road. Expedite departure!”
“Orchid, Oscar-One, WILCO, out!” He turned to Lopez and said, “Move it. The Chinese are coming!” Then the two men took off in a dead run toward the boat where the DIA men and guests were already loading. As they got within twenty yards, Ben shouted, “Push off! The Chinese are coming!” When they arrived, everyone was on board but Kelly. After Ben and Lopez tossed their guns in the boat, the three men pushed it off the beach until they were thigh-deep and then pulled themselves on board. “The hell with stealth, Shelley, haul ass!” Ben shouted.
Lee slammed the right throttle forward with the helm hard over to the left, and the heavily loaded boat turned ponderously toward the sea and Kauai. Ben could see two sets of headlights approaching on the coast road. About the time the boat completed her turn and Lee had pushed both throttles to full ahead, the vehicles stopped near the gap with the still-glowing chemlights. A searchlight winked on and traced the path down to the SUV stopped by the water. OK, you’ve found the SUV, now let it go, please!
After pausing for a few seconds on the SUV, the searchlight began sweeping across the water off the beach. It passed over, then came back and fixed on the white wake and followed it up to the boat. When the light reached and settled on the boat, Ben shouted, “Hit the deck!” Two seconds later, the first burst of gunfire struck.
“Orchid, Oscar-One, I’m hearing gunfire from the direction of the compound. Over.”
Haley wanted to jump from her chair but held herself in place and simply nodded at Bunting.
Bunting turned and transmitted, “Oscar-One, Orchid, roger, out.”
“Captain, I have a vehicle. Make that two vehicles, moving down the side road from the compound on EO. Contact is intermittent because of land shadowing,” Williams reported.
Haley swallowed. “Very well, track them as best as you can. Put it on the screen.”
Ben’s voice came from the command set speaker again moments later, “Orchid, Oscar-one. Delta reports en route with pursuit. We are standing by to engage.”
“I’ll take this one,” Haley said, then keyed her microphone. “Oscar, Orchid-Actual, roger, act at discretion, out.” Haley knew Ben would have done that anyway, but she didn’t want him wasting a single thought on whether she approved. This was what Sam was talking about. This is the agonizing part where you get to watch everything, with absolutely no ability to help. Those are your kids out there, and you have to trust them.
Williams couldn’t hold a fix on the vehicles with the ship’s camera until they reached the coast road. Then the picture cleared, and Haley was surprised to see an SUV pursued by what looked like a luxury car—she would have expected the opposite. They lost the picture again when the vehicles turned off the road near the boat’s landing site.
“Conn, Mount 52, sound of automatic gunfire, three-zero-zero relative, no visual target!” Connally reported through the open bridge door on the port side.
“Conn aye!” Hopkins replied.
Soon, Connally reported again, “Conn, Mount 52, sound of automatic gunfire has stopped!”
“Conn, aye!”
Lee’s voice came over the command set, “Orchid, Orchid-One, SUV has arrived, passengers loading!”
Haley nodded to Bunting, who transmitted “Orchid-One, Orchid, roger, out.”
Haley was about to ask for a report from Ben when the UHF speaker barked again. “Orchid, Starfish One Seven, I have movement from the Chinese base. Two vehicles, appear to be some kind of APC. Over.”
APCs? Armored Personnel Carriers! It’s the VN-4s! Haley changed to UHF on her radio selector and keyed the microphone. “Starfish One Seven, Orchid-Actual, please confirm two APCs headed west on the coast road. Over.”
“Orchid, One Seven, confirmed. Over.”
“One Seven, Orchid-Actual, roger. Keep an eye on that gunboat, out.” Haley switched to the command set. “Oscar-One, Orchid-Actual, warning! Chinese vehicles approaching on the coast road, expedite departure!”
“Orchid, Oscar-One, WILCO, out!” Ben replied.
Haley balled her fists, then took a deep breath. “Williams, train the EO on the coast road from the east. Let me know when the VN-4s come into sight.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Williams replied.
“Chief, no point in ultraquiet anymore. Light off the mains.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Hopkins replied. She pressed the intercom and said, “Main Control, Conn, put all engines on line.”
“Main Control, aye,” Drake’s voice replied. Within seconds came the whine of a diesel engine starter, followed by a grumble as the first engine caught and came up to speed.
Haley switched to intra-ship radio. “Overwatch, CO.”
“Go ahead, ma’am,” Guerrero replied.
“We have two Chinese armored vehicles approaching. Hopefully, they’ll just have a look and go home. But, if not, we may have a fight. They have a mounted seven-point-six-two, but it is manually operated and will need target illumination. Your target will be that searchlight, but you will be weapons tight unless they fire on us or the small boat or I give a direct order. Do you copy?
“Ma’am, target searchlight, weapons tight. Engage only if the vehicle opens fire.”
“That’s correct. Good luck.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Captain, I have headlights on the coast road, estimate one mile,” Williams reported.
Haley turned and gazed at the EO screen. “Load APDS-T.”
“Load APDS-T, aye,” Williams said, then typed a command into the console. On the foredeck, the ship’s gun emitted a series of clanking sounds audible on the Bridge as the automatic loader fed the first armor-piercing, discarding-sabot tracer round into the breech. “APDS-T loaded, Captain.”
Haley gripped her chair and said, “Surface action port. Target the lead vehicle.”
Williams said, “Target the lead vehicle, aye.” Williams slewed the gun camera to the ship’s EO, already locked on to the leading VN-4. After he typed in a few commands, the gun mount came alive and traversed left to align with the gunsight. Then the gun elevated automatically to account for the VN-4’s height above the water and compensate for the slight ballistic drop over the measured distance. When the computer’s AI was satisfied with the gun’s alignment, the reticle on Williams’s screen turned green. “Target identified. Target selected. On target and tracking, Captain.”
“Very well, hold.”
“Hold fire, ma’am,” Williams said, eyes locked on the screen.
The Chinese vehicle stopped and, as Haley expected, turned on a searchlight and directed it down onto the beach. Williams repeated, “On target and tracking, ma’am.”
“Hold.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Williams said, shifting in his seat. “They’re sitting ducks in that boat, ma’am.”
“Knock it off, Williams,” Hopkins said, to Haley’s surprise.
“Aye, Chief.”
Haley watched in agony as the light swept out from the shore, and held her breath as it picked up the wake, then settled on the boat. Then the VN-4 opened fire, tracers reaching into the boat.
“Commence fire!”
Williams had already pressed the fire button at the beginning of the command, and the gun barked a loud bang and immediately loaded another APSD-T. The quarter-pound penetrator shed its sabot jacket on leaving the barrel, and its tracer tail made it look like a glowing red streak as it crossed the water at almost four times the speed of sound. At around seven hundred meters to the target, the flight time for the round was half a second. The round punched through the light armor in the empty troop compartment and filled the interior with fragments and dust. Guerrero’s first shot arrived almost simultaneously, tearing the searchlight off the vehicle. The panicked gunner shifted from the boat and fired wildly toward Kauai’s muzzle flash while the drivers scrambled to put the vehicle in reverse. Kauai’s second and third rounds ended all that, cutting the gunner in half and bursting the vehicle’s fuel tanks. The second VN-4’s commander was no fool, backing away from his burning comrade at full speed without lights or gunfire.
“Second target disengaging, Captain,” Williams reported.
“Ceasefire, but stay on him until he is out of sight,” Haley said, then keyed her command set. “Orchid-One, Orchid-Actual, report!”
“Orchid, Orchid-One, three down: Kelly, Frankle, and Lopez,” Lee replied. “Minor hull damage, but we should make it to the ship. Over.”
Haley felt like she had been punched in the stomach. “Orchid-One, how bad? Over.”
“Kelly is dead. Lopez is very bad; XO is working on him now. Frankle should be OK. Over.”
“Roger, continue to ship. Out.” Haley stared straight ahead, her mind reeling.
“Captain, shall I get underway?” Hopkins asked.
Haley turned and blinked. “Yes, minimum recovery speed, heading your discretion.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
“Orchid, Starfish One Seven.”
Haley looked at the UHF speaker and thought, Oh God! Not now! She nodded at Bunting.
“Starfish One Seven, Orchid, go ahead,” the young petty officer transmitted.
“Orchid, One Seven. Your gunboat has left the pier and is heading your way. Estimated speed thirty-two knots. You need to get out of there, sir.”
Haley said, “I’ll take it.” She switched her radio to UHF and said, “One Seven, Orchid-Actual, we have to recover our boat. Is there anything you can do to help us out? Over.”
“Orchid, One Seven, I can jam his fire control radar and call for help. That’s about it. Over.”
“Do what you can, One Seven. Thank you. Orchid-Actual, out.” She switched to intra-ship. “Boat deck, CO.”
“Boat deck, ma’am,” Bondurant replied.
“Boat deck. We have a Chinese gunboat bearing down on us at full speed. As soon as that small boat hull is out of the water, I need to know so we can start running.”
“It’s coming alongside now, ma’am. Stand by.” Moments later, Kauai heeled a few degrees to port. “CO, boat deck, the small boat is clear of the water!”
Haley turned to Hopkins. “Chief, course three-zero-zero, maximum speed.”
“Helm, right standard rudder, steer three-zero-zero!”
“My rudder is right fifteen degrees, coming to three-zero-zero, Chief!” Pickins replied.
Hopkins keyed the intercom. “Main Control, Conn. COB, we have an enemy gunboat coming after us at flank speed, and we need every knot you got. Take propulsion control.”
“Conn, Main Control, I have propulsion control. I am by-passing safeties.”
“Very well.”
“Captain, I have the gunboat on EO/IR, bearing one-seven-eight relative, target angle zero,” Williams said.
Haley glanced at the navigation panel in front of Zuccaro. It showed the island in the navigation chart function, but no radar overlay with all transmitters secured. Zuccaro was frozen, staring at the screen, and her hands were motionless over her keyboard. “Williams, I want you to ping that gunboat with the rangefinder long enough to get a single readout—don’t leave it on.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
“CO from boat deck.” Bondurant’s voice came over the intra-ship channel.
“Go ahead,” Haley said.
“Small boat is cradled, and the crane is secure. Casualties and passengers have been transferred to the messdeck. XO asked me to pass that he is assisting Doc with the wounded.”
“Bondurant, relieve Mr. Wyporek of his medical duties. I need him on the Bridge ASAP.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
“Captain, gunboat range is six thousand, three hundred fifty yards,” Williams said.
“Very well, ping them once every thirty seconds.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
Now it was a race. Haley hated to drag Ben to the Bridge when all he was likely to do was stand around, but they had to have a standby if she or Hopkins were incapacitated. What has gotten into the Chinese? Are they going to start a war over a bunch of goddammed criminals? She stepped over to the ship’s telephone and dialed the messdeck.
After one ring, the phone answered, “Messdeck, Jenkins.”
“Petty Officer Jenkins, Captain. Is Mr. Frankle able to talk?”
“Yes, ma’am. Standby, please.”
After a couple of seconds, Frankle came on the phone. “Frankle.”
“Agent Frankle, I’ve had one shootout with the Chinese, and now that I’m retiring, I’ve got a gunboat coming balls to the wall to catch us. What the HELL is going on here?!”
“I knew I should have killed that son of a bitch! It’s Chen, the Chinese base leader. We caught him with his pants down, literally, in that brothel. He knows if we make it through, he’s finished! When the APCs didn’t do the job, he must have ordered the gunboat to destroy us at all costs. I’m sorry, Captain, I did not see this coming.”
“Right. So much for negotiations. Chief Drake’s pulling out the stops below, and maybe we can stay out of reach.”
“Yes, ma’am. And again, my apologies.”
Haley hung up the phone, turned to see Ben coming onto the Bridge, and was briefly shocked at his ghastly appearance. He was covered with dirt and blood and had the pale, vacant look of shock. She walked over, reached for his upper left arm, and squeezed it. “Ben, I can’t tell you how relieved I am to see you,” she whispered. “How’s Lopez?”
“Doc is working on him, Captain. Bondurant, Gerard, and Lee are doing everything they can to help.” He turned to look her in the eyes, then shook his head.
She led him to the command chair and said, “Have a seat.”
“No, ma’am, I’ll be OK....”
“Sit down. That’s an order. We may need you again soon.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
“Captain! The gunboat has opened fire!” Williams shouted.
Haley’s gaze snapped to the camera display, where a line of four glowing balls climbed slowly into the air, seemed to stop, and then descended into the water, flashing when they hit.
“Ranging shot,” Williams said. “Starfish has their radar jacked up, so they don’t know our range.”
“In other words, they’re pinging us.”
“Yes, ma’am. But they’re already inside six thousand yards, and their pings will start reaching us any second.”
Haley keyed her intra-ship transmitter. “Mount 51, Mount 52, and Overwatch, secure and shelter inside the Bridge!” Then she turned and stared at the image of the gunboat on Williams’s screen. As if on cue, the image emitted another string of four balls. These landed much closer, and Haley could feel the taps from the shock waves of the detonating shells through the balls of her feet, although the sounds of the explosions were masked by the roar of Kauai’s diesel generators.
Hopkins stepped beside her and said, “Captain, you should let the crew know what to expect.”
Haley looked at her and received a sad smile in return. “You’re right. Thank you, Chief.” Haley stepped over to the 1MC and picked up the microphone. “Folks, this is the captain. I’m sure you’ve heard we have a Chinese gunboat on our tail, and he’s closing fast. We are within his thirty-seven-millimeter range, and I expect him to start sending HE shells our way, hoping for a lucky hit. We have an electronic warfare bird who has knocked back his radar, so his shooting will be wild until he gets closer. Our bird is calling in air support, and it will hopefully be here before then. Our armor should keep out the shell fragments, so hang tough and stay inside and away from the windows. Good luck to us all.” Yeah, and when he gets close enough for direct fire with armor-piercing rounds, what then?
Guerrero was coming through the door with his rifle, with Hebert and Connally right behind him as she replaced the microphone. “Hunker down, guys, and prepare for incoming.”
“You don’t need to tell us twice, ma’am,” Hebert said as he and the other two grabbed spots in the Bridge’s rear.
Ben stood from the command chair and held it for Haley. She had just taken her seat when Williams said, “Here it comes!” The gunboat had fired a burst of four shells, which landed even with Kauai about fifty yards to port and detonated on contact with the water. These were close enough to hear the loud bang of the explosions.
“Chase salvos, Chief!” Haley ordered. Kauai was a difficult target at this distance, and the gunboat was trying to conserve ammunition using short bursts rather than continuous fire. Without radar, the gunboat would have to correct its aim based on where the last burst landed. “Chase salvos” meant turn toward that side and foil the correction.
“Aye, aye, Captain. Helm, left to two-nine-five.”
“Left to two-nine-five,” Pickins repeated.
Another burst landed and detonated off the starboard side, and Hopkins ordered a course change to the right. Haley knew their luck would not hold for long—as soon as the gunboat captain realized what they were doing, he would go to rapid-fire. She selected UHF and keyed her microphone. “Starfish One Seven, Orchid Actual. Where’s that help? Over.”
“Orchid, Starfish One Seven. I’m on with a flight of F-16s from the 93rd. They’re three minutes out. Over.”
“One Seven, Orchid Actual, roger, tell them to step on it! Out.”
Hopkins had just altered course to the left again, and the game went on for two more salvos. Then, as Haley feared, the Chinese captain tried a long burst. The twelve shells missed, falling on both sides. Two were close enough to pepper Kauai with shrapnel, sharp pings ringing through the Bridge like hail on a tin roof.
Their luck ran out on the next burst: one shell exploded on the left side of the mast, knocking out the EO camera and showering the Flying Bridge with shrapnel. Another struck the special operations boat and started a small fire. The fire itself was not an immediate danger to the ship, but it provided a beacon that brought hell down on them. Shells were bursting on the rear of the superstructure and in the water around Kauai. The bridge crew huddled behind what cover they could find as the windows in the rear doors shattered and debris scattered around them. As they kneeled together between the command chair and the FC3 console, Haley looked into Ben’s face and, seeing the same fear she had, reached out and gripped his hand.
The bombardment ended abruptly with an ear-shattering double boom that shook the deck beneath them. Haley’s first thought was, Shit! Now they’re using rockets! Then a second double boom shook the ship, and, after a brief delay, another pair of double booms.
“It’s the F-16s! They’re thumping the gunboat!” Ben cried.
Haley smiled with relief, gave Ben’s hand a last squeeze, then let go. They both stood and looked at the chaos of the Bridge. As the others stood, Haley called out. “Chief! Are you OK?”
“Pickins and I are tolerable, ma’am! Still on heading three-zero-zero.”
“Thank God. Ben, are you alright?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She glanced at the FC3 crew, Hebert, Guerrero, and Connally. “Anyone hurt?” After getting mumbles of “OK” and thumbs-up from the rest, she nodded and turned to Ben.
“What the hell does ‘thumping’ mean?”
“They were buzzing the gunboat at a hundred feet and Mach One-plus. My dad told me they used to do it when he was flying F/A-18s in Iraq, and they needed to provide close support but couldn’t drop bombs or shoot. That double boom was the shock wave. If it shook us at two miles, you can imagine what it must be like a hundred feet away. It’s non-lethal, but you can be sure there isn’t an intact window, light bulb, or glass lens on that gunboat anymore.”
Haley nodded, plugged into her command chair, and selected UHF. Please let this be working. “Starfish One Seven, Orchid Actual.
“Orchid, One Seven, good to hear your voice, ma’am!”
“One Seven, Orchid, Backatcha. We’re blind here. What’s going on?”
“Orchid, One Seven. Your gunboat is bugging out. He’s heading zero eight zero at thirty-four knots. The thumper element has bingo-ed for the tanker, but the two shooters are holding on station until he heads into port.”
“One Seven, Orchid, roger. Please pass a huge thanks from us.”
“WILCO. And, for the record, none of us were ever here. Copy?”
“One Seven, roger that. Never heard of you. Thanks for everything. Out.” She turned to Ben. “Nothing like a ‘Back Off or we’ll kill you’ gesture to give a captain a moment of pause. He probably thought he was chasing some pirates until the attack aircraft showed up.”
Ben nodded. “Yes, ma’am. The boat is still burning, Captain. I’ll head down to deal with that now.”
“Yes, good luck. Call me when you can.”
“Yes, ma’am. Hebert and Guerrero, let’s go!” Ben said, then turned and left with the two petty officers, their feet crunching on broken glass and ceiling fragments covering the deck.
“Petty Officer Williams, see if any bridge systems are still working,” Haley said.
“Aye, aye, ma’am. Bunting, Zuccaro, give me a hand!”
Haley tried the intra-ship radio without a result. She stepped over and pressed the call button for the intercom. “Main Control, CO.”
“Main Control, COB here.”
“Report, COB.”
“No damage in Main Control, ma’am. I have Brown checking the hull forward for leaks.”
“Thank you, COB. Carry on, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Hopkins stepped beside her. “Ma’am, we need to throttle back and post a lookout.”
Haley put her hand to her forehead. “Yes, thank you, Chief. Come back to ten knots for now.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am. Connally, grab a handheld radio and binoculars and get up to the Flying Bridge. No, wait, it’s probably trashed. Go on down to the bow. See if you can remember how to be a lookout.”
“On it, Chief!”
Hopkins pulled the throttles back, and Kauai’s hull ceased planing and settled back into the water. Haley grabbed the bridge railing for support and shook her head. Wouldn’t that be ironic, surviving two gun battles and then sinking after smacking into another boat?
Ben led the two petty officers down the ladder, carefully hugging the ship’s side with their boots crunching on broken glass, shrapnel, and other debris. The fire hose nearest the boat deck was shredded, and Hebert had to make two stops before finding one still intact. The fire proved easy to extinguish, as it was confined to the boat, having started when the shell shattered the engines. Ben posted Guerrero as a re-flash watch and did a quick tour around the hull—there were plenty of black marks from blast scoring, but no penetrations from what he could see.
Ben dreaded what he would find on the messdeck. He would never forget that awful moment of chaos on the boat when the Chinese machine gun fire laced across the bow. It was only the one burst that hit home. Kauai’s return fire, each round looking almost like red laser fire accompanied by a loud crack from the shock wave, silenced the Chinese vehicle. But the damage had been done.
Ben had cried out when he saw Lopez was down and crawled over to find him bleeding profusely from two wounds—the bullets must have been armor-piercing as they punched right through his vest. Lopez was writhing in pain as Ben pulled open his vest and applied pressure to the wounds with his bare hands. Lopez quickly passed out and remained unconscious for the rest of the boat’s return to Kauai. Ben looked around the bow to find Kelly face down, unmoving, and Frankle, his arm a bloody mess, being attended by Gerard.
Bryant was waiting with the litter when they arrived, and Ben helped carry Lopez into the makeshift surgery on the messdeck. Bryant worked quickly—he had performed gunshot wound first aid frequently in Iraq and Afghanistan while in the army. Ben bent to the task of assistant, helping with surgical equipment and I.V.s until Bondurant tapped him out.
“You’re needed on the Bridge, sir.”
“Screw that!” Ben muttered, turning to Lopez.
Bondurant grasped his arm and gently turned him around. “We need you on the Bridge, sir.”
Ben looked at the big boatswain’s mate and blinked. “Right.”
That was only twenty minutes ago, Ben thought as he looked at the clock when he came into the messdeck. His gaze fell on the mess table, where Bryant, Bondurant, Lee, and Jenkins were clustered—a bloody white sheet covered Lopez’s upper body and head, and no one was moving. Ben blinked in disbelief. His chest tightened, and when he could finally take a breath, he blurted out, “No!”
They all turned, and Lee walked over, embraced him, and buried her face in his chest. “No,” Ben said again, more quietly, putting his arms around Lee and holding her as she sobbed.
