Running Dark

7

SUMNER WATCHED THE PIRATES PREPARE TO FIRE.

“Hit them again,” Wainwright said. The LRAD blared. The pirates were closer now, and its beam worked much better at close range. Sumner watched the pirate holding the grenade launcher lower it and shake his head, like a dog flapping its ears, attempting to ward off the unbearable noise. They’d bought themselves some time, but not much else. The emergency sirens blared throughout the ship. Sumner watched the passengers surging onto the decks.

Wainwright snorted in disgust. “I’d love to know which idiot pulled the fire alarm. Carter”—he waved at a nearby officer—“tell the security detail to get those people into the center of the ship. They’re sitting ducks on the decks.” Carter nodded and jogged off the bridge. Wainwright turned to the other crew members. “I want this ship moving as fast as it can go, and I want it now.”

Wainwright’s crew responded with a calm that Sumner found impressive. The ship, all twenty-eight thousand tons of it, would never outrun the cigarette boats, but the added speed would help make it difficult to board.

“Why don’t you just blow the bastards out of the water?” Block’s voice held a note of hysteria.

Sumner gritted his teeth. The last thing he needed was a three-hundred-pound beef head panicking. Wainwright seemed to have the same concern, because he cut Block off at the knees.

“Mr. Block, maritime law does not allow us to carry heavy weapons. I asked you to leave. Don’t add to my troubles here by asking stupid questions.” Wainwright turned to Sumner. “Mr. Sumner? Any ideas?”

“You’re asking a cabin boy what to do? What the hell kind of captain are you?” Block’s voice had risen an octave. His face was flushed with anger or fear—Sumner didn’t know the man well enough to determine which—and he thrust it at Wainwright.

Sumner stepped between the two men and faced Wainwright. “I have a gun.”

“Now you’re talkin’,” Block said.

Wainwright ignored him. “What kind of gun?”

Sumner hesitated. The gun was a sniper rifle and banned on board a cruise liner. Using it would be a last resort. Before he could respond, the ship’s radio crackled.

“Kaiser Franz, this is the USS Redoubtable. We’ve received a distress signal. Please advise.”

Wainwright grabbed the radio. “Captain Wainwright, Kaiser Franz. We’re in a standoff attack. Two cigarette boats armed with RPGs are preparing to fire on the ship.”

“We’re on our way. Six hours.”

“Hell, we’ll be dead in six hours,” Block said. “Let Sumner here shoot ’em!”

Sumner had his binoculars out. He watched the pirate put the RPG back on his shoulder. “They’re getting ready to fire.”

Wainwright turned to the crew member manning the LRAD. “Put it on the highest level. Hit them three times, four seconds apart.” He handed Sumner some earplugs. “They’re close enough now that this level will damage their eardrums. We’re behind the beam, so it won’t be as bad, but no sense taking a risk.” Sumner shoved them into his ears.

“What about me?” Block sounded petulant.

“Use your hands,” Wainwright said. Block covered his ears with his palms.

The LRAD blasted. The two pirates in the second boat grabbed at their ears, covering them, but the pirate in the first boat, the one holding the RPG, didn’t flinch. He aimed and fired.

The grenade slammed into the side of the ship, high up, above the waterline. It shuddered with the impact. Sumner didn’t stay to watch any more. He sprinted off the bridge, back down the stairs, and ran belowdecks.

He ran through the halls listening to the voice blaring over the intercom, instructing all passengers to head to the casino immediately. The voice repeated the information in calm, slow tones. The casino was located in the ship’s center, hemmed in by hallways on either side. Like all casinos, it lacked windows, so the gamblers would not be distracted by the rising or falling of the sun.

Sumner fought his way past frightened passengers who streamed through the narrow corridors. He ran past closed stateroom doors but stopped at the entrance to the casino. The majority of the Kaiser Franz’s 350 passengers huddled in the interior space. They lay on the floor, arms over their heads. Cindy Block sat nearest the door. Through force of habit, Sumner looked for the German family. He found the girl under a roulette table, shivering in a fetal position next to her mother, who had her arms wrapped around her. The father was absent. Sumner scanned the room, looking for the Russian and his mistress. The Russian sat at the bar swallowing a shot; the mistress sat next to him, looking terrified.

He continued down the hall, opened his cabin door, and slipped inside. He pulled a case from the closet. Made of titanium, it looked like a rectangular violin case with a webbed carrying strap. Sumner threw the strap over his shoulder and plunged out the door, running.

A second explosion rocked the Kaiser Franz. Sumner careened into a wall as the vessel pitched. Screams of terror echoed from the casino. Sumner’s heart pounded in his chest, and he ran faster, with renewed urgency. He retraced his steps, past the casino entrance, up the stairs, onto the deck, and up the ladder to the bridge. A second RPG flew at the ship. This one was aimed high, at the bridge. It overshot and kept flying out to sea.

Sumner crouched on the deck surrounding the bridge and lowered the titanium case before him. Block, Wainwright, and the crew were back in the bridge. They watched him through the windows. Sumner set the code on a small padlock before flipping open the case. A Dragunov rifle with a telescopic sight nestled in the box’s protective lining. Sumner pulled it out, checked the chamber, and crab-walked to the deck’s side. When he was within three feet of the railing, he dropped to his stomach and crawled the last few inches, dragging himself by the elbows. He settled into position. He peered through the scope, targeting the pirate manning the RPG, and reined in his anger.

The shot was a difficult one. The Kaiser Franz churned through the ocean, slicing the waves, rising and falling with each swell. Wainwright kept the boat at an angle to the waves so as not to have to fight them the whole way, which would only serve to slow the ship. In contrast, the cigarette boats slammed head-on into each swell. Their superior speed ensured that they would always keep up with the larger craft, but their heedless trajectory caused the boats to buck. The pirates bounced along with each crashing wave, and the man holding the grenade launcher was hard-pressed to keep it on target long enough to fire with any accuracy.

Sumner waited until the Kaiser Franz reached its lowest point, then began its roll up. He fired when the boat was halfway to its peak. A large hole bloomed on the shoulder of the man holding the rocket launcher. He went down. Sumner could hear Block hooting through the windows. At least he thought it was Block—he didn’t bother to look up. The first cigarette boat veered off, racing away from the Kaiser Franz. The second also started to loop away. Sumner targeted the second boat’s captain. Waited for the roll, squeezed the trigger. The man flew forward with the force of the bullet that entered his back, high, at the shoulder. Sumner watched the passenger scramble to take over steering the boat, and then he swung back to aim at the first boat, but it was out of range, retreating as fast as its engines would allow. He watched the boats until they were once again tiny dots in the distance.

Block jogged over. “Hot damn! You can sure as hell shoot, boy, and that’s the truth. I’ll bet that’s the first time you shot a man, right?”

Sumner put the gun back in its titanium case. Closed it and twirled the combination lock. He straightened to look at Block.

“That’s the first time I shot a man without killing him,” he said.

Block’s mouth fell open.