Havana Storm (Dirk Pitt 23)

Thinking fast, Pitt snake-whipped the power cable toward the side rail, watching as its sparking tip slipped over the side. Pitt then backed around the right side of the cutter and raised his arms over his head.

The two soldiers converged on him first and held him at gunpoint until Díaz approached.

Díaz saw the dead guard beneath the auxiliary cutter’s frame and stared at Pitt with his eyes aglow. “I’m afraid you won’t be going to Havana after all. It ends now.”

He raised his rifle and aimed at Pitt’s chest. As he reached for the trigger, a whooshing sound erupted behind him. Then he disappeared in a maelstrom of fire.

When Pitt had thrown the live power cable aside, he hadn’t just tossed it over the rail. He had tossed it into the adjacent barge. The unraveling cable snaked around its interior, igniting the scatterings of ANFO that littered the deck. It was only a matter of time before a smoldering pile ignited one of the crates of TNT, detonating the barge’s entire contents of explosives.

The barge blew apart in a thunderous blast that sent a thick white cloud heaving into the night sky. It shook the entire length of the Sea Raker, shattering her superstructure. The vessel lurched to the side, jettisoning the auxiliary cutter and other loose equipment near the rail, before settling sharply by the bow. The stern rose out of the water a minute later, and the ship glided under the surface on a collision course with the seafloor.

A circle of foam and bubbles rippled the surface in the ship’s wake. Then only silence draped the waves for the remaining survivors left floating on a dark sea.

76

The auxiliary cutter saved Pitt’s life twice. Standing beside its huge mass, he was shielded from the direct force of the blast while those around him were incinerated. Still, he was knocked off his feet by the concussion, then nearly crushed by one of the steel treads when the cutter began sliding toward the rail.

Choking through the blinding smoke, Pitt heaved himself onto the topsides of the open tread and grabbed an upper brace. He hung on as the cutter slid through the Sea Raker’s side rail and toppled over the edge. The cutter tried to carry him to the bottom, but he pushed away and swam to the surface. He str

oked away from the Sea Raker to avoid its suction, then turned and watched as the last frightened crewmen jumped overboard before the ship slipped under.

He had been treading water only a few minutes when the Gold Digger burst on the scene with a throaty roar from its motors. It stopped near one of the Sea Raker’s lifeboats as a searchlight on its stern scanned the waters. Desperate to get to Summer, Pitt swam to the yacht and took his place with the Sea Raker’s survivors clamoring to get aboard.

Ramsey was on deck leading the rescue. He flashed a relieved look when Pitt staggered aboard. “I was worried about you when we saw that second explosion.”

Pitt could only nod. His ears were ringing, his body ached, and he was out of breath. More than that, he knew he had failed Summer, who was trapped on the seafloor beneath them.

“Sorry about the ship,” he finally muttered.

“You . . . you did it?” Ramsey gave Pitt a chagrined look. “Your friendship is really beginning to cost me.”

Pitt shook off the remark. “Did you contact the Navy’s undersea rescue unit? How soon can they get here?”

Ramsey shook his head. “I did better than that. I hooked up with a much closer vessel that you might be familiar with.” He pointed off the starboard rail.

For the first time, Pitt noticed the lights of an approaching vessel. Its illuminated profile had a familiar look, and as it drew near, he could make out a hint of its turquoise-colored hull in the darkness. “The Sargasso Sea?”

“Yes. They responded over the radio. It seems they were searching for the Sea Raker—looking for you and your daughter.”

“Who’s in command?”

“A fellow named Gunn. He seemed surprised when I mentioned your name.”

Ramsey motioned to one of his crewmen, then turned back to Pitt. “I’ll get a Zodiac in the water so you can get to her right away.”

A tired smile crossed Pitt’s face. He reached out and shook Ramsey’s hand.

“Mark, you’re a good man. And if it’s any consolation, I’ll make you a guarantee.”

“What’s that?” Ramsey said.

“I promise you’ll never lose to me on the track again.”

77

Pitt gunned the Zodiac’s motor, racing to the Sargasso Sea as it slowed to a drift near the luxury yacht. Dirk, Gunn, and Giordino were all waiting at the rail and helped Pitt aboard.

Giordino eyed Pitt’s singed and waterlogged clothes. “You look like you took a nap in a rock crusher,” he said.