Marauder (Oregon Files 15)

The dart hit the terrorist in the backside, causing him to swat at what he might have thought was a hornet’s stinger. A moment later, his grasp on the ladder loosened, and he let go of the rung, falling the two stories onto the boat’s deck.

Knowing that the man at the railing wouldn’t take long to react to the strange events, Max scrambled over to the fallen man and picked up the AK-47. He pointed it up in time to see the terrorist above him swoon and fall back from the railing.

Juan peered over the side and smiled at Max.

“I see you’ve been making yourself useful,” he said.

“All in a day’s work,” Max replied.

“That’s seven of eight. One more hijacker unaccounted for. It must be Kersen. And he has the detonator.”

Juan disappeared. Max heard him talking in Arabic to the man he had felled.

After a pause, Juan said, “He doesn’t know where Kersen is, but he says the last bomb is inside the main pumping junction not far from here. They must have already been inside when we came on board.”

“Not to be a nervous Nellie,” Hali said, “but my bomb just ticked down to one blinking bar.”

“Ours, too,” Eric said. “Based on the time since the previous bar disappeared, I’d say we’ve got three minutes left before they blow.”

SEVEN

Hali dashed out of the Dahar’s superstructure with a duffel bag in hand and stopped in front of Juan out of breath.

“Where should I put this?” Hali asked.

Before Juan could answer, Gomez called out, “Movement on the bridge wing.”

Juan looked up to see the final terrorist gaping at them from above. The mangled skin on the left side of his head identified him as Kersen, the leader of the terrorists.

The one with the detonator.

The distance was too far to use the dart gun. Juan snatched the submachine gun from his shoulder at the same time that Kersen fired his AK-47. Juan rolled across the deck, the bullets ricocheting behind him, and popped up to his knees to take aim, but the terrorist was already gone.

“He’s left the bridge,” Gomez said.

Juan sprinted toward the superstructure. “I’ll bet he’s heading for the free-fall lifeboat. As soon as he’s at a safe distance, he’ll blow the bombs with the remote detonator.” If Kersen had been planning a suicide mission, he would have blown them already. “Hali, find the last bomb in the pumping junction and make sure all three get off the ship.”

“Aye, Chairman.”

Juan flung the door open and ran inside to the stairs, the emergency arrows pointing the way to the lifeboat station on the stern of the ship.

He burst through the exterior door and emerged onto the gantry in time to see Kersen jump into the orange lifeboat and yank the hatch shut behind him.

Juan stopped to aim his submachine gun, but the lifeboat was already sliding down the rails by the time he got any shots off. The bullets hit the polycarbonate windows but did nothing more than crack them. Kersen stared at him with dead eyes and then went out of view as the lifeboat dropped into the water.

Juan went to the railing and saw the bullet-shaped boat surface after its brief plunge and begin motoring away. A short distance away was a derelict freighter hugging the shoreline of an Indonesian island. Kersen had no time to wonder where the ship had come from.

Juan keyed his molar mic. “Oregon, you are weapons-free. Destroy that lifeboat.”

“Weapons-free, aye,” came the reply.

A round housing slid down from the top of the ship’s forward mast, revealing a nasty-looking two-barreled Gatling gun called a Kashtan combat module. The Russian weapon’s dual rotary cannons could fire 30mm explosive tungsten-tipped ammunition at a rate of ten thousand rounds per minute.

The twin Kashtan guns spun to life and swung around to aim at the lifeboat. Bright tracers lanced from them as the weapon system unleashed a torrent of fire, piercing the air with the sound of a giant buzz saw. The lifeboat was chewed to pieces, along with Kersen and the detonator. Within a second, it was nothing more than a burning hulk.

“All clear, Oregon,” Juan said, a jolt shooting down his spine as he saw his ship on the high seas for the first time.

Juan gazed at the tired vessel, knowing it was covered with a special metamaterial camouflage paint. Even though he knew what was coming, Juan was still in awe as an electrical charge was applied to the Oregon’s skin so it would change color. He watched as the rusty vessel changed appearance into a sparkling deep blue cargo ship with a white superstructure and black smokestack on the stern. She was less than a mile away off the Dahar’s starboard stern.