Havana Storm (Dirk Pitt 23)

“Rudi, you’re a sight for sore eyes, but that’s as far as it goes,” Giordino said, his ears ringing like the bells of Big Ben at high noon. “What is that torture contraption?”

“It’s called an MRAD, or medium range acoustic device. This is a portable version of a system built for the Navy, used to ward off small-boat attacks or Somali-type pirates. It’s a high-intensity directional acoustic array capable of emitting sound waves at an extremely high volume, which are in turn relatively focused.”

“A loudspeaker on steroids,” Dirk said, rubbing his ears.

“Pretty much. Jack and I borrowed it from a friend at the Naval Research Laboratory.”

Jack Dahlgren, the burly marine engineer who was old friends with Dirk, approached carrying an assault rifle. “Glad to see you boys happy and healthy. Rudi, we best move to the bridge. Does anybody know how many commandos are aboard?”

“I counted nine.” Giordino picked up one of the Cuban guns. “You keep that ear blaster away from me and I’ll back you up.”

Gunn passed some small headphones to Dirk and Giordino. “These will help.”

He reactivated the system and led his armed companions to the forward superstructure. The ship’s bulkheads acted as a deterrent to the MRAD system, so Gunn didn’t hesitate, scrambling up the companionway and bursting onto the bridge.

The remaining four commandos were on duty and alert to the commotion on deck. Two were standing watch with assault rifles and instantly turned toward Gunn. He dove to the floor, holding the MRAD paddle aloft. Dahlgren and his partner turned the corner and fired. Their aim was true and they took down the two shooters.

The other two Cubans, unarmed, had fallen to the floor during the audio bombardment and now climbed to their feet. They raised their hands as Dirk and Giordino entered with their weapons drawn.

Dirk stepped over and helped Gunn to his feet. “Rudi, are you okay?

“I’m good. Is everybody on the ship safe?”

“They won’t be for long,” Giordino said. “Word is, our friends planted explosives on the ship and were about to send her to the bottom.”

He stepped to the smaller of the two Cubans. Grabbing him by the lapel, he raised him off the floor and ground his teeth in the man’s face. “Where are the explosives? Dónde están los explosivos?”

The soldier saw the unflinching determination in Giordino’s eye. “La sala de máquinas,” he grunted.

“The engine room,

” Dirk said. “Let’s go.”

He and Giordino sprinted from the top of the ship to the bottom, reaching the engine room two minutes later. They didn’t have to search long before finding several crates of explosives positioned aside a seawater induction valve. It would have quickly flooded the ship.

Giordino found a simple digital timer wired to a detonator that was packed into the high explosives. He nervously removed the detonator. “Two more hours and she’d be on her way to the bottom.”

“Good thing Rudi and Jack arrived when they did.”

They climbed back to the main deck and released the crew from the two labs, but not before Giordino flung the timer and detonator over the side. They helped Dahlgren lock up the surviving Cubans, then rejoined Gunn on the bridge.

He stood over a communications console, shaking his head. “The satellite communications system was destroyed in the shoot-out.”

“We’ve still got marine radios,” Giordino said. “By the way, how’d you find us?”

“Tracked you with satellite imaging, until we left Bimini on the NUMA research ship Caroline. Fortunately, you hadn’t moved by the time we crossed the straits.”

“Where’s the Caroline now?”

“She’s holding in friendly waters, about ten miles due north.” He gave Giordino a studious gaze. “I’ve been afraid to ask. Where’s Pitt and Summer?”

“As of two days ago, a mining ship called the Sea Raker,” Giordino said. “They were abducted aboard the Starfish while investigating the subsea mining. The Sea Raker was operating at the site of the Alta’s sinking. We need to find her and fast.”

Gunn nodded as he took the helm and dialed up the ship’s engines. He stabbed a finger at a horizontal radar screen that had survived the shoot-out. “If the Caroline doesn’t find her first,” he said in a determined voice, “we will.”

74

Fifty feet beneath the hull of the Sea Raker, an electrical charge ignited a lead azide detonator. The small primary detonation instantly ignited the eight hundred pounds of TNT packed into the sleeve that dangled from the bulk cutter.