Running Dark

37

SUMNER WOKE WHEN THE SUN WAS PEEKING THROUGH THE STATEROOM windows. His alarm remained silent, which puzzled him. He turned to look at the glowing numbers, only to realize that he’d slept right through it. He sat up in a flash. He’d slept far longer than he’d intended. He splashed some cold water on his face and headed to the upper deck, where he found Clutch sitting on the port side, cradling a stun gun in his lap while he drank from a steaming mug of coffee. The ship seemed becalmed.

“What’s going on?” Sumner said.

Clutch gave a desultory shrug. “Not much. Turbines are off. Wainwright’s hoping to keep some juice in case the pirates come back. But, like I said, they’re gone. They must know by now that we can’t be taken. This whole sitting-watch thing is a joke.”

It was all Sumner could do to continue conversing with the guy. Instead of responding, he turned to look out to sea. It was full day, and the heat was rising right along with the sun. Here and there, crew members went about their usual duties, which added to the surreal nature of the tableau. It was as if nothing untoward were happening, or had happened.

“And Block?” Sumner said.

“Went to sleep five, maybe six hours ago. Janklow and Wainwright, too. Soon as they come back I’m letting one of them sit watch. This is stupid.”

“Who has the sniper rifle?”

“It should be obvious that I don’t.”

Sumner reined in his anger. “I was asking you if you knew who did.”

“Probably Block. He was treating the thing like it was his baby. Didn’t allow anyone else to use it, which was stupid, because we might have needed it these past hours while he slept.”

Sumner noted that this was the first intelligent thing Clutch had said so far, though he couldn’t help being pleased that Block didn’t just give the gun to Clutch. Sumner didn’t think the man had the temperament required to handle the weapon.

“I’ll go find it,” Sumner said.

Clutch shrugged. “Whatever.”

Sumner took another deep breath. The man sounded like a disaffected teenager. Sumner revised that thought almost immediately. A teenager would have realized the danger they were in and would have had the quick reflexes and inclination to be of some help. Clutch had neither.

Sumner headed to the hallway between decks. Before he could make it there, he heard the roar of a cigarette boat’s engine. He spun around to see Clutch lurch upward. The coffee in his cup sloshed all over the deck. He gave Sumner a frantic look.

“Go get that gun!” he shrieked.

Sumner fled back down the stairs, taking two at a time. A loud alarm erupted, and on the PA system he heard Janklow’s voice over the blaring noise saying, “We are under attack. Please clear all decks and return to your staterooms immediately. Repeat—” The burst of a rocket-propelled grenade drowned out the rest of the warning.

Few people were in the halls. One woman sobbed as she ran. A couple worked their way past him. The man had his arm around his wife, who looked so pale that Sumner thought she might faint. For the first time since the ordeal began, the casino appeared to be empty. He caught a glimpse of a lone bartender restocking glasses. The man shoved the dishwasher crates to the side. Seconds later Sumner heard a noise behind him. He took a quick glance to see the bartender hot on his heels.

Sumner took a right turn into the hallway that held Block’s stateroom, just as Block stepped out of the door. He held the Dragunov in his right hand and looked ready to kill. A relieved expression passed over his face when he saw Sumner.

“Here’s your gun,” Block said. He lobbed the weapon at Sumner. “Go get those bastards. I’ll be right behind you.”

Sumner caught the rifle and spun back to retrace his steps. He heard the blare of the LRAD. He didn’t think the weapon would work this time. The pirates now knew it existed and would have taken measures to protect their eardrums.

Soon he was back up on the swimming-pool deck right below the bridge landing. Once there, he shielded his eyes from the sun to take stock of the attackers. Four boats streamed toward them. Two were high-powered speedboats, the other two were a more basic design. The first three stayed abreast of each other, separated by about forty meters. The fourth and final boat brought up the rear. It was at least half a mile away from the first three, but moving straight toward them.

Sumner halted, took aim, and fired at the closest ship in the formation. They were out of range, but he was counting on their hearing the report and responding. They must have, because the two end boats in the formation split off in different directions, while the lead boat visibly slowed.

He clambered up to the bridge deck.

Janklow was watching the pirates through a set of binoculars.

“They’re splitting up to take us from all sides,” Sumner said. “What’s the ETA for some assistance?”

“Not happening,” Janklow replied. “Three other ships were captured in the last twelve hours. Seems these guys are busy. The CTG 600 is still trying to contain the damage, because one of them is transporting nuclear waste. We’re on our own. But take a look at that last boat, the one bringing up the rear, and tell me if you see what I think I see.” He unwound the glasses from around his neck and tossed them to Sumner.

Sumner put the binoculars to his eyes. His heart sank at the sight.

Janklow moved up until he stood shoulder to shoulder with Sumner. “Either that’s a Western woman holding an assault rifle or I’m going crazy.”

“You’re not crazy,” Sumner said.

“Then she is,” Janklow replied.