Operation Sea Ghost (23 page)

This time he attacked the rope with verve, sawing away as he anxiously eyed six more pirates climbing toward him. But the knife just could not do the job fast enough, so Nolan had to use his Beretta once again and shoot the pirate at the top of the ladder, as well as the attacker behind him. Only then did he manage to cut the second rope to the point where it finally snapped on its own, sending the rest of the pirates back into the sea. But no sooner had this rope ladder fallen away, when
another
hook clanged onto the railing nearby.

This was getting very crazy very quickly. Suddenly everything was moving too fast. The pirates were screaming like madmen. Their comrades circling in the speedboats were blowing air horns. Somewhere, fireworks and flares were being lit off, weirdly illuminating the night sky. And Nolan had already used more than half his pistol’s ammo supply
and
he had ruined the all-important knife as a cutting tool—and the battle wasn’t even two minutes old.

Even worse, he could see the same thing was happening all along the railing. There were Senegals to the right and left of him and it was apparent their knives just couldn’t cut through such thick rope either. He was also hearing lots of gunfire. Valuable ammunition was being used to repel the first couple minutes of the assault. Definitely
not
part of the plan.

As before, he had to shoot the first two pirates coming up this third ladder, then saw away at the grappling hook’s rope until the weight became too much and it snapped. It was harder this time though, as the knife was practically useless; it took so long, the third pirate in line came within an inch of grabbing Nolan before he had to shoot him, too.

But even as he tumbled way, Nolan noticed something else was going on here. The blind ferociousness of the attack told him the pirates were most likely on methamphetamines or maybe Indonesian Ecstasy, which was a combination of several highly toxic stimulants. This was no surprise. But he also realized the attackers were armed only with knives. Why no firearms? There was only one reason. The pirate commander didn’t want his men to leave any weapons on board the lightly armed ship should they be killed or captured. In other words, Alpha’s earlier instincts had been right. The Bom-Kats had done some recruiting and this first wave of pirates, probably all new members, was simply fodder meant to wear down the ship’s defenders without giving them any more firepower. The problem was, it was working.

Amid the growing confusion, Nolan spotted one of the dhonis coming up close to the freighter’s starboard side. He could see a large man dressed in blue sea camos and lit by a flashlight standing on the bridge, yelling into a walkie talkie. Was this the pirate commander? Was he directing the attack?

Nolan only had a few seconds to yell over to Gunner about this when another rope ladder clanged onto the railing in front of him. There was so much noise and chaos, Nolan was sure Gunner hadn’t heard him. Yet a moment later, the telltale streak of a Streetsweeper incendiary projectile flashed high over his head, zooming up at an insanely steep angle before coming down squarely on the bridge of the dhoni.

It was a tremendously lucky shot—and it caused a tremendously loud explosion. Gunner’s projectile had hit ammunition stored on the boat’s bridge, setting it off like a mini A-bomb. The dhoni came completely out of the water and broke in two before slamming back down again. It quickly sank beneath the waves, leaving only a trail of smoke in its wake.

And suddenly, everything just stopped. The explosion froze attackers and defenders alike. But not for long. Because just like flipping a switch, the attack instantly resumed its ferocity. Nolan banged his fist against his helmet. The meaning was clear: They had sunk the dhoni, but it probably wasn’t the one carrying the pirate commander.

Now Nolan began hearing snapping noises all around him. He looked up from yet another frenzied rope cutting to see orange streaks coming at him from all directions. Tracer rounds … meaning another element had been added: Those pirates circling the freighter in speedboats were now shooting at them.

Taking cover as best he could, Nolan continued cutting through his fourth rope ladder. But again, it was too slow and the knife too dull, so he had to fire his Beretta twice to shoot the first two pirates before the rope gave way.

And with that last shot, the Beretta’s clip popped out.

Nolan couldn’t believe it.

The weapon he’d meant to hold in reserve was already empty.

*   *   *

TWENTY-FIVE FEET DOWN the railing toward the ship’s stern, one of the Senegals was also struggling with this new reality.

He’d managed to cut a half dozen of the rope ladders already, but his knife had become irreversibly bent. He’d emptied his pistol of ammunition, too, just like Nolan, and was loath to use his M4 rifle until he really had to.

But again, just like Nolan, he was close to being overwhelmed. Though so far only armed with knives of their own, the pirates looked and acted absolutely crazy.

Now, in just the span of a few seconds, two more rope ladder hooks clanged onto the railing in front of him. The Senegal somehow managed to cut through one ladder with his misshapen knife, but in the time it took to do this, a pirate coming up the second ladder had reached the railing and was climbing over it.

The Senegal quickly charged him with his twisted makeshift bayonet, startling the man even before his feet hit the deck. The bent knife went into the pirate’s chest, puncturing his heart. He crumpled backward, getting entangled with the top strands of the ladder and stalling the pirates climbing up behind him.

But when the Senegal went to pull his knife out of the dead man’s chest, it wouldn’t budge. The ball of duct tape holding it on the gun muzzle had gotten stuck in the man’s wound. The Senegal couldn’t even free the M4, that’s how jammed up it was. Now the Senegal was without any weapon at all and the two pirates behind the dead man were clutching at him like creatures from a monster movie, trying to pull him over the railing. The Senegal was sure he was doomed.

But then, above the chaos, the shouting, and the gunfire, the Senegal heard a strange rolling noise behind him. He turned his head just in time to see a pair of the Korean crewmen rushing down the deck with their wheelbarrow full of sizzling hydraulic fluid. The African soldier had just enough room to get out of their way as the Koreans, never breaking stride, raised the end of the wheelbarrow and poured the scalding contents onto the pirates still hanging on the rope ladder.

The screams were ungodly; they rose above everything else happening on the ship. Horribly burned, the pirates immediately fell back into the sea, making a terrible sizzling sound when they hit the water.

The Korean crewmen pulled the Senegal back from the railing, depositing him safely on the deck. They somehow retrieved his knife and rifle for him, then returned to their wheelbarrow intent on running back to their fire barrel to get more bubbling hot fluid.

But they quickly realized another pirate had climbed up another ladder behind them and was now blocking their path. They faced the brigand for an eternal second; he was just an arm’s length away. The Korean sailors had no weapons and this pirate looked especially crazed. He lunged forward with his knife, intent on stabbing one of the sailors in the stomach—but stopped in mid-thrust. Suddenly his throat began bleeding profusely. He fell to the deck at the Korean sailors’ feet, gurgling and dying. Standing behind them was the Senegal the Koreans had just saved, his bent and misshapen knife lodged in the the pirate’s neck.

The Koreans regained their composure, high-fived the Senegal, and then resumed their dash back to their boiling pot of oil.

“We stand and fight,” one yelled over his shoulder to the African. “We with you all the way.…”

*   *   *

THE FIGHTING WAS even fiercer on the port side of the ship.

Because the freighter was at a 15 percent list on this side, the pirates had a shorter distance to climb. So they had sent more men against it.

Gunner was doing his best to hold down his midship position. He’d fired his Streetsweeper just the one time, sinking the
dhoni
with a one-in-a-million shot—but it had little effect on the raging battle. He’d used his Beretta a few times as well. But mostly he’d been slicing through the rope ladders as planned, and not having such a hard time of it as everyone else. There were two reasons for this: he was a massive and muscular person, and he was armed not with a carving knife, but with a butcher’s cleaver. This and his pure strength had allowed him to cut down more than a dozen rope ladders so far, sending many Bom-Kats into the drink.

But still, the pirates kept coming.

Even now, not five minutes into the battle, as Gunner stopped to catch his breath and try to take in the situation around him, three more rope ladders clanged onto the railing nearby. He rushed over to the first one, and in just three swings of the cleaver, managed to cut it away. He reached the second ladder, punching the first pirate in line in the jaw before severing the rope with another trio of mighty blows.

But by this time, the pirates climbing the third ladder had reached the railing. In a display of crude, blunt force, Gunner managed to backhand the first attacker so hard it caused him to lose his footing. But in falling away, he completely missed interfering with the pirate next in line, and this man came over the railing with a vengeance.

Gunner managed to knock him down with a fist to his temple, but then a third pirate appeared and he, too, came over the railing. He helped his comrade to his feet and both turned to face Gunner, long razor-sharp knives held out in front of them.

Gunner’s cleaver was not much good here. He was swinging it wildly, but because he was forced back on his heels, it was almost impossible for him to get close enough to strike either pirate. Nor could he stop to pull out his Beretta. He had no choice then but to surge forward. He came at the pirates, all 300 pounds of him, still swinging the meat cleaver. And while missing the first pirate’s chest, by dumb luck he caught the second attacker on his hand, slicing through his palm and wrist, causing a stream of blood to gush out. When the man fell to the deck Gunner finished him off with a quick kick to the larynx.

The remaining pirate was stunned by his comrade’s sudden death; this gave Gunner the chance to back him up against the railing, knock the knife from his hand, and then drive the cleaver into his rib cage. The blow was enough to send the pirate back over the side.

While this was going on, Gunner saw something out of the corner of his eye. It was another of the pirates’ dhonis. It was coming up close to the ship, just as the first one had on the starboard side. In a flash of light, Gunner saw a clutch of people on its bridge standing around a man with a walkie-talkie. Some of these people were firing off flares; others were shooting AK-47s in the general direction of the ship. Maybe one of
these
guys was coordinating the attack.

He retrieved his Streetsweeper, leaned over the railing and without hesitation, let his second-to-last explosive shell fly. The projectile streaked through the smoke and sea spray, hitting the dhoni dead center on its engine cowling—and then bouncing off.

There was no huge explosion. The shell was a dud. But just by kinetic energy alone, the casing had severed the dhoni’s main fuel line, and sparks from the flares the people on the boat were firing off fell onto the leaking fuel—and
that’s
when the huge explosion came. There was a ball of fire, a second deafening bang—and then the dhoni was gone.

Gunner pumped his fist in triumph—but the celebration was short-lived.

Unlike after the first dhoni was sunk, the pirates didn’t stop for even an instant this time.

If anything, they began attacking the ship with renewed vigor.

*   *   *

NOLAN’S KNIFE WAS finally gone.

Bent, twisted and dull, he’d lost it somehow in the frenzy of the battle. His pistol, empty and useless, he had thrown away on purpose. His M4 was serving as little more than a battering club now, his allotted twenty-three rounds gone long ago. He had dispatched so many pirates by hitting them with the assault weapon’s stock his hands were bleeding from holding its slender barrel so tight.

How long had the battle been going on? He had no idea. A few minutes, a few hours? He really couldn’t tell. All he knew was that his plan to defend the ship was in shambles. Pirates were being killed. Their bodies were splashing into the sea with grisly regularity. The Koreans were running up and down the deck, their wheelbarrows sizzling, their hands horribly burned, pouring the flaming oil on the attackers whenever and wherever they could. And the Senegals that he could see were stabbing, slashing and simply manhandling a lot of the Bom-Kats back over the railing. But just like Nolan, they’d been forced to use their rifles, too—in fact the gunfire sounding out around the ship was nonstop now. Just what Alpha didn’t want to do.

And
still,
the pirates kept coming.

*   *   *

JUST A FEW seconds after Nolan had ducked away from another incoming barrage of tracer fire, he heard someone come up behind him.

He spun around ready to whack them with the butt of his empty M4 when he realized it was Gunner. He had scrambled through the bridge to get away from the fighting on the port side.

“It’s
really bad
over there,” Gunner managed to say. “They’re so many of them coming over the top now, we can’t stop them.”

Gunner was still holding his Streetsweeper and his cleaver. But blood was running down his right side. Nolan was stunned to see he had a serious wound on his shoulder.

They had to duck as another barrage of tracer fire crackled above their heads. Though the Senegals and the Koreans were still fighting pirates climbing up the sides of the ship, it was clearly a losing battle.

“Might be time to go to phase two,” Gunner yelled to Nolan.

Nolan grimly agreed. He let out a loud whistle. A predetermined signal, it cut through the sounds of the battle.