Gale Force

97

Sato expected the salvage crew would know he was coming. He hoped that it wouldn’t matter.

Fuchida had seen the woman first. She’d picked an inopportune time for a walk, and it had nearly cost her her life. Would have, if Tsunoda was a better shot with his pistol.

The first shot had missed badly, and the woman didn’t make the mistake of waiting around for another. She’d turned and ran, sprinted for the first door and hurled herself inside the freighter.

“Find her,” Sato told the others. “Now. Her partner, too.”

But the woman was fast. She’d disappeared down the hall before Fuchida and Tsunoda could catch up, and though they’d followed her heavy breathing resonating down the steel corridor, they hadn’t been quick enough.

She’d gathered her companion. Locked themselves in a stateroom, a heavy bulkhead door. Fuchida had opened fire, nearly killed himself, and Sato and Tsunoda as well. Did no harm to the door whatsoever. And inside, through the steel, Sato could hear the woman’s muffled voice as she called her own colleagues for help.

So be it. We are armed. We will retrieve the briefcase.

“Leave them,” Sato told the others. “They aren’t of any consequence now.”

RIDLEY HAD THE Canadian Coast Guard on the radio. “Coast Guard, this is the tug Gale Force. We are currently transiting Canadian waters with tow, seventeen nautical miles off Long Beach. We, ah, have reason to believe that we are under attack.”

Ridley caught her eye, shot her a grim look. McKenna read it immediately. Unlike their American counterparts, the Canadian Coast Guard wasn’t considered a part of the military. The organization focused on search and rescue and environmental enforcement, not coastal defense, and its cutters weren’t equipped with deck guns or any other heavy weaponry.

The radio crackled back. “Gale Force, this is Tofino Traffic,” the operator said. “We have the lifeboat Cape Ann in your vicinity. Can you confirm the details of your situation?”

“I said we’re under attack, Tofino,” Ridley said. “You got any guns on that lifeboat?”

The operator paused. “Gale Force, I can’t broadcast that information on this channel. Do you have reason to believe the attackers are armed?”

“We heard gunshots,” Ridley said. “Look, we’re fearing for our lives here, Tofino. Do you have any way to protect us?”

Footsteps on the stairs. McKenna looked back, saw Al and Jason come up, brows furrowed, questions on their faces. On the radar, the blip continued to close distance. It looked small enough to be hampered somewhat by the heavy swell, but not nearly enough. They were coming, McKenna knew. That swell wouldn’t stall them for long.

The Coast Guard operator came back. “Gale Force, I’ve passed your information on to the Royal Canadian Navy. They have the coastal defense vessel HMCS Nanaimo outbound in the Juan de Fuca Strait. Estimate arrival on scene in approximately six hours.”

McKenna crossed the wheelhouse, took the radio from Ridley. “Tofino, Gale Force. Six hours doesn’t do us a lick of good out here.”

“I have an RCAF Sea King helicopter ready to fly from the 443 Maritime Helicopter Squadron in Victoria as well, Captain,” the operator said. “Again, they estimate two hours to get to your location.”

“Two hours. And what do you suggest we do until then?”

Another pause. “Gale Force, we recommend you, ah, initiate antipiracy measures and do what you can to keep them off of your ship. However you can protect your crew, Captain, we suggest you do it.”

McKenna looked at Ridley again. Ridley rolled his eyes. For the short term, anyway, the Gale Force was alone in the water.

“Antipiracy measures,” Al Parent said. “Do we have any of those?”

“We have firefighting equipment,” McKenna replied. “Water cannons, fore and aft. I want Jason on the forward cannon, Al on the aft. Try and blast them as best you can if they try to board us.”

“That’s it?” Jason said. “We’re going to spray them with water?”

“They’re here for the briefcase,” McKenna said. “If we give it back to them, they’ll leave us alone.”

“And if they don’t?”

McKenna looked at him. At the rest of her crew. “If that doesn’t stop them?” She crossed the wheelhouse to a locker on the starboard side, secured with a combination lock. Spun the dial, opened the locker. Pulled out a Remington pump-action shotgun.

“If that doesn’t stop them,” she said, “we use this. But let’s pray it doesn’t come to that.”

She looked around at her crew. The crew stared back, their eyes wide. Ridley met her gaze, frowning, and McKenna knew what he was thinking.

One shotgun and two water cannons. It was hardly an arsenal.