Plague Ship (Oregon Files 5)
All twelve hooks sailed across the gap, and when they heaved back on the lines all had caught firmly. The Oregon came in even tighter, almost brushing the cruise ship, so the men wouldn’t injure themselves when they arced across, while the Gatling continued to spit a continuous stream of fire across the Sky’s bridge.
“Go.”
Juan gripped the line tightly and leapt over the railing, swinging across the gap at an ever-accelerating pace. The Oregon cut away sharply behind him. He had intentionally aimed above a large row of windows and had judged the distance perfectly. His feet hit the glass, and he exploded into the deserted dining room, saving himself the tedious task of climbing up the line. His team knew to hook up outside the bridge if they got separated.
He unslung the MP-5 from across his back. Moving cautiously, the weapon tucked high on his shoulder so he had a constant sight picture, he weaved through the tables toward the exit.
He came out on the mezzanine level of the atrium. Passengers were milling around, still dazed after the impact with the Oregon. A man was lying at the bottom of a flight of stairs being attended to by a pair of women. An elderly lady screamed when she spotted him.
Juan raised the submachine gun’s barrel in a nonthreatening manner. “Ladies and gentlemen, this ship has been hijacked,” he said. “I am part of a United Nations hostage-rescue team. Return to your cabins immediately. Tell passengers you see that they must stay in their cabins until we have secured this ship.”
A man in civilian attire with the aura of authority approached him. “I’m Greg Turner, second assistant engineer. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Tell me the fastest way to the bridge, and see that these people get to their rooms.”
“How bad is it?” Turner asked.
“Have you ever heard of a good hijacking?”
“Sorry. Dumb question.”
“Don’t sweat it.”
Turner gave Juan the directions, as well as a magnetic pass card to get him into the off-limits spaces, and Cabrillo took off at a trot. When he reached the door marked NO ADMITTANCE, he swiped the card through the reader and propped the door open with a nearby potted fern for the rest of his team. By his estimates, they should be only a minute behind him.
He jogged past countless cabins and raced up two flights of stairs before emerging in the hallway that gave access to the bridge. He activated his laser sight as he slowly approached the door. Cabrillo paused when he heard voices muttering in a cabin a few doors back from the bridge entrance.
“Captain?” he called softly.
The voices stopped, and someone peered around the doorjamb. The single eye he saw widened in horror at his appearance.
“It’s okay,” Juan said softly. “I’m here to stop him. Can I speak to your captain?”
The person came fully around the corner. She was wearing a uniform, and, judging by the stripes on her shoulder boards, she was the Golden Sky’s first officer. She had jaw-length dark hair and perfectly tanned skin that set off her honey brown eyes. “That butcher killed the captain and our third purser. I am Leah Voorhees, first officer.”
“Let’s talk in there,” Juan said, pointing to the cabin behind her.
He followed her inside. There were two man-size lumps on the bed with a sheet pulled over them both. Dark blood stained the chest of one and the head of the other.
Leah Voorhees tried to introduce him to the rest of the officers, but Juan cut her off. “Later. Tell me what you know about what’s happening on the bridge.”
“There are two of them,” she said at once. “One named Kovac, the other I’m not sure. There is a third barricaded in the engine room.”
“You’re sure there’s just one down there?” When she nodded, Juan radioed this piece of information to Eddie. “Go on.”
“They came aboard by chopper not long after we left Istanbul. We were given orders from our head office to do whatever Kovac asked of us. They were supposedly looking for two stowaways who might have murdered a passenger.”
“Those stowaways are part of my team,” Juan assured her. “They didn’t murder anyone. Do you know where they are?”
Given the circumstances, she accepted Juan’s statement without question. “They were found a short while ago and are locked in the captain’s day office directly behind the bridge.”
“Okay. What else?”
“There were two ordinary seamen on duty, as well as two officers, when he took over. They also have female passengers as hostages. Who are you? Where did you come from?”
“This is a United Nations mission. We have been shadowing this terrorist cell for some time. Kovac shook us when he boarded your ship, so we had to act fast. I am sorry that you couldn’t be informed, and I am sorry for the danger you’ve been put in. It was our intention to grab Kovac earlier, but, well, the UN’s a bureaucracy like any other.”
The rest of Juan’s squad suddenly appeared, throwing dots of laser light around the room as they checked it.