The gunman staggered against him and Pitt released his grip on the hilt and pushed the dying man aside. He turned and dove onto the second gunman, attacking before he could reload his weapon.
The second gunman was bigger than Pitt and sprang up on powerful legs. He shoved his rifle into Pitt’s midsection and used it as leverage to throw him over his shoulder. Pitt tumbled to the corner of the deck, rising in time to catch a blow from the rifle’s stock to his left shoulder. Pitt countered with his right fist, catching the gunman’s cheek and dazing him. Pitt then reached down and wrestled for control of the gun.
Just behind the bridge, a similar battle took place. Giordino had landed near the wheelhouse and emerged from the smoke to find Vasko aiming another RPG at the Constellation.
He lunged forward and swung his cutlass in a powerful arc.
Vasko caught sight of him at the last second and raised the launcher in defense. The antique sword struck the steel frame of the launcher and the blade snapped at the hilt.
Vasko looked his attacker in the face, shocked to see it was Giordino.
“You again!” he swore.
“You were expecting Mary Poppins?” Giordino swung the sword’s hilt up and punched Vasko in the stomach.
Vasko grunted and swung the launcher in return, striking Giordino in the head.
Giordino dropped the hilt and grabbed hold of the launcher, turning the business end away from the Constellation and toward the rear of the tug.
The two men applied brute force against each other for control of the weapon.
“It’s no use, shorty,” Vasko taunted, holding firm on the launcher.
Giordino said nothing. He applied his strength against the bigger man until Vasko gritted his teeth and contorted his face. Giordino held like a rock, showing no sign of strain.
Realizing he was losing the battle, Vasko leaned away, dropped a hand to the pistol grip, and squeezed the trigger.
The mini rocket blasted out of the launch tube. The projectile skittered across the deck, struck the stern tow cable bitts at the center transom, and exploded with a deafening roar.
The burning exhaust had blown into Giordino’s face, temporarily blinding him.
Vasko took advantage. He kicked Giordino in the groin, then ripped the launcher away and pummeled his head.
With a vicious roundhouse blow, Giordino was knocked backward and bounced off the side rail. As he fell to the deck, he regained a fraction of his vision. He squinted aft across the deck but found it empty.
Pitt and the other gunman had vanished.
85
Pitt heard the rush of the RPG launch and squared his back to the stern. The grenade detonated barely twenty feet away. The explosive force blew him over the rail and could have killed him if not for his human shield. Still clinched with the gunman, the bigger man absorbed the shrapnel and the blast’s main concussion.
They hit the water together, and the other man’s grip went limp. Pitt let go of him, fighting a wave of pain and disorientation. His ears rang and his lungs felt purged of all air. He sensed he was drowning. He stretched his limbs and tried stroking, hoping to find the surface. A long object slid across his body and he reached for it and hung on. It was the hawser and it carried him to the surface for an instant. He barely had time to fill his lungs when the heavy cable began to descend, yanking him back under.
His senses returning, Pitt began pulling himself up the cable, slowly at first, then with more urgency. Straining hand over hand, he reached the surface once more, just a short distance from the black barge. He glanced over his shoulder. The Constellation and tug lay a hundred yards upriver. The barge was drifting free, and he was floating with it.
Outside the tug’s wheelhouse, Vasko tossed aside the grenade launcher and looked to the damaged stern. As the smoke cleared, he saw the end of the tow cable unravel from the mangled bollards and slip over the transom. The barge was free and there was nothing he could do. He watched for a moment as the barge floated toward the center of the Patapsco. It was still within the dead zone, and the water was plenty deep for his needs.
He stepped onto the bridge and felt the Lauren Belle start to move. Free of the barge, the vessel had regained enough power to battle past the Constellation’s mast and yardarm. Vasko looked past the sh
ip, eyeing the tall buildings of Baltimore, then stepped to his weapons crate. He retrieved the satchel with the radio transmitter keyed to the barge’s explosives.
On the deck, Giordino opened his eyes to see a wall of flames. It was a burning sail, ripped away by the roof of the tug’s pilothouse as it churned past the fallen mast. An antenna above the bridge caught a section of the flaming sail and dropped a curtain of canvas over the side of the wheelhouse.
Giordino sat up and saw the Constellation slipping behind. Two of the Parrott gunners leaned over the rail, staring at the tug.
Giordino called up to the men. “Powder. Toss me some bags.”
The gunner named Yates disappeared for a moment, then returned to the rail with three of the black powder bags. He expertly tossed them across the water, the aluminum foil cylinders landing at Giordino’s side. Giordino snatched two of the bags and threw them to the base of the wheelhouse doorway. Vasko stepped through it a minute later.