Unlucky 13 (Women's Murder Club 13)

Brady saw what would happen. Berlinghoff would kill Jackhammer. He could not miss. And then Brady would come in quickly and swoop Yuki up before Jackhammer hit the ground.

But, it didn’t happen.

In the split second before Berlinghoff pulled the trigger, there were shots from Berlinghoff’s right-hand side and the revolver spun out of his hand.

The captain yelled, “Damn!” and Brady saw him grab his wrist. More shots hit him, sending blood spurting across the captain’s white uniform as he fell.

Jackhammer was distracted by Berlinghoff’s shout. He swung his head to see Berlinghoff’s falling body, and in that instant, Brady yelled at Yuki, “NOW!”

Yuki seemed to come back to herself. She twisted in Jackhammer’s grip and kicked him in the knee. Then she pulled something from her bathrobe pocket and punched out at Jackhammer’s gut.

Jackhammer grunted and relaxed his hold enough for Yuki to wrench herself free.

As she ran to Brady, Jackhammer aimed at them. Brady saw that he was steady enough to stand, and he knew that the bullets would cut both of them down.

But, no. Jackhammer was switching out his empty magazine.

Brady shoved Yuki away from him. He dropped to his knee and fired the last rounds in his AK’s magazine at Jackhammer’s legs.

The terrorist-in-chief dropped his weapon and went down screaming.

CHAPTER 97

BRADY SCRAMBLED TO his feet, tossed Jackhammer’s weapon away from him, and then bent close to the man’s face.

He said, “I’d happily kill you, you son of a bitch. But you have to answer for all of this.”

Brady shouted out for help, and passengers brought belts, sashes, and strips of torn clothes. Brady rolled Jackhammer onto his belly, tied his hands and bleeding legs, cinching tourniquets above his wounds.

Yuki stooped beside him.

“The shooting stopped,” she said.

Then she pulled up Brady’s shirt and saw where the blood was coming from.

“I’m lucky,” he said. “That was close.”

She touched his right ear, just above where the lobe had been shot away.

“Oh, Brady,” Yuki said.

He took his wife in his arms. Bottles were being cracked open. Passengers were drinking, and the stinking sound system was shut down.

“It’s not over,” Brady said. “Counting Jackhammer, that’s thirteen men down. The other six…they could be retrenching.”

Brady heard Brett Lazaroff call out from the rail.

“Brady, Yuki. Come and look at this.”

His broken ribs were killing him, but Brady leaned on Yuki, and they joined Lazaroff at the port side of the Pool Deck.

Following the line of Lazaroff’s finger, they saw moving specks coming from the eastern shore of the passage.

“Whales?” Yuki asked. “Is that a pod of Orcas?”

“Boats,” said Brady.

A dozen zodiacs were motoring toward the FinStar, and within minutes they pulled up to the hull. Grappling hooks were fired. Men in ballistic gear began climbing the ropes.