The Curse of Medusa

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Hawke was the first to reach the hull of the Perseus, and gently made his way around to the portside boarding ladder, remaining submerged the entire time. They knew from their CIA briefing while on the flight from New Orleans that the yacht had two stainless steel retractable gangways, controlled by a simple hydraulic system, but the control pads were on deck. They also knew that on the portside near the bow there was a non-retractable ladder, so this was their entry point.

Hawke emerged from the water in silence and drew his SIG. He pulled himself from the water as quietly as he could and climbed up the ladder. On the deck now, he slipped into the shadows and waited for the others. Not for the first time in his life he wondered why he wasn’t in bed, waiting for the dawn of another day in a normal life. That was what most people did, he thought. Who the hell chose to spend their time in freezing cold water under enemy boats?

He did, he guessed, and that was something he just had to live with. For one thing, he had too much trouble imagining himself doing anything else, and that’s what had frightened him about leaving the SBS and starting up his security company. Colliding with Lea Donovan and Sir Richard Eden back at the British Museum that day had in many ways saved his life.

As he waited in the silence of the night, he thought he heard one of Kiefel’s goons on the deck above him moving toward the steps leading down to him, but it was nothing, and then out of nowhere his mind turned to his family. Maybe it was because Alex had been asking him about it all so recently, he wasn’t sure. Alex, and especially Lea, had a right to know about his family and his background, but for some reason he was reluctant to share that part of his life with them.

Talking about himself wasn’t something he was used to, and neither was he very good at it. Sharing private information with others wasn’t exactly high on the list in the Royal Marines Commandos, and it certainly wasn’t something that the men in his unit of the SBS liked to spend their free time doing either. He had lived like that for so long that now it was normal to compartmentalize his life into subunits like this and keep them apart from one another. When someone asked him to start talking about his family, his first thought was always the same — why?

Now the same noise — a muffled footfall on the deck directly above his head. He held his breath and readied his pistol as he waited, frozen like a statue in the shadow of the steps, but again no one came. Instead, he heard some tuneless whistling and then someone spat into the river.

Doyle emerged over the side of the yacht, slightly breathless with the effort of the underwater swim but otherwise in good shape, and as he moved silently into the shadows to join Hawke, they both watched with relief as Scarlet appeared, the top of her wet hair and shoulders reflecting some moonlight as the clouds shifted above the city.

Besides, he thought, his mind returning to family — it wasn’t just him who liked to keep things to himself. What was Lea doing right now? She was chasing ghosts across Ireland — ghosts he knew nothing about… and she was fighting a battle he knew nothing about, against an enemy he knew nothing about. She had kept it from him in the way he had never told her, or anyone else, about his life growing up in London. Maybe, he thought as he watched Scarlet extract her SIG and cock it, it was time for everyone to start being more honest with each other.

But now it was time to focus. They shared a look which they all knew meant it was time to move out, and began the mission to save the President and secure the weapon.

Halfway up one of the external staircases they noticed a guard who was asleep, lulled by the moonlight and the motion of the yacht on the river. Scarlet won paper, scissors, rock and stalked up to him, grabbing him roughly around the neck with one hand and jamming the muzzle of her SIG into his face.

“Call out and you’re dead before you hit the water, yes?”

The man nodded, his eyes wide open with fear and surprise. “Ja — Ich verstehe.”

“Good. Where is Kiefel?” To help things along, Scarlet pushed the gun harder into the man’s cheek.

“Oberstleutnant Kiefel is on the rear deck with the President.”

“Excellent — and where is the weapon?”

“The weapon is being fitted to a helicopter drone on the helipad as we speak — directly above us here on the top deck.”

Scarlet moved the weapon and pushed the rim of the suppressor into the man’s chest.

“Nicht schießen! Ich habe Kinder… I have children!”

“Wrong,” Scarlet said. “Sie hatten Kinder — you had children.”

The man opened his mouth to scream, but Scarlet discharged the weapon before he could make a sound. His dead body slumped onto the deck, and Hawke and Doyle lowered him into the water to get him out of sight.

“I had no idea you spoke German,” Hawke said, impressed.

“Picked it up in Bielefeld.”

“That’s right — I forgot the army spends so much time in Germany. Maybe that’s where you got your sense of humor?”

Scarlet smiled. “Maybe you should start collecting better jokes?”

“Like your collection of medieval bollock daggers you mean?” Hawke said.

“How do you know about that?” Scarlet said, raising an eyebrow.

Doyle stepped out of the shadows. “I hate to break up the obvious sexual tension, but I want everyone to remember that we are not to move against the President until we have secured the weapon. If Kiefel gets wind of this operation before we can disable the drone and secure the canister, all he has to do is push a button and that thing’s airborne over Manhattan and we’re all dead, clear?”

“Clear as daylight,” Scarlet said.

“Good. Let’s move out.”

They divided into two units, as planned. Hawke and Scarlet made their way up the steps to the top deck and the helipad while Doyle moved toward the stern where Kiefel was holding President Grant.

It was time to end Kiefel’s assault on America.