Operation Sea Ghost (13 page)

She managed to scramble away from the Senegals, then stand up and whip off her battle helmet. Throwing the helmet away and with her blond hair wild and flying, she began screaming at Nolan and the others, demanding they get the gunfire to stop, demanding they get her away from the awful Black Hole, demanding the people living there, just down the dune,
stop looking at her.…

She was hysterical—and if Nolan had been within reach of her, he would have slapped her back to reality. But she was about twenty feet from him, fists clenched, feet stomping like a child throwing a tantrum.

She was going to get them all killed …

But at that moment, with the object hovering not fifty feet above them, and with the violent downwash and smoke covering them all, one of the strangest things Nolan had ever seen happened.

A shaft of blinding light exploded out of the sky. At first Nolan thought someone on the mystery craft had turned on an extremely powerful searchlight. But whatever it was, it hit Emma Simms square in the face and knocked her off her feet.

Nolan couldn’t believe it. The light was
so
intense, she’d dropped like she’d been shot.

At first it seemed like the weight of the battle suit prevented Emma from getting up. But actually she lay there for a long time, the bright light burning into her eyes, she looking up at it, paralyzed.

Finally Gunner lifted his huge weapon and fired at the light. There was a loud explosion—and suddenly the light went out, and the helicopter, if that’s what it was, disappeared into the smoke again.

Only then were Nolan and Gunner finally able to scramble over to Emma Simms, retrieving her discarded battle helmet along the way.

She was not moving. She was on her back—eyes wide open, but lying completely still. Neither was she breathing.

“Jessuz, we killed her…” Gunner cried.

He peeled off his helmet and started giving her mouth-to-mouth.

But nothing happened.

He tried again, checking for a pulse.

Still nothing.

Nolan took off his battle glove and banged her hard, once in the chest.

No response.

Gunner tried mouth-to-mouth again.
Nothing …

Nolan banged her chest a second time. She did not move.

For about ten seconds.

Then suddenly … she roared back to life.

She sat up and began shaking and gasping, like someone who’d been drowning suddenly coming up for air.

Nolan and Gunner couldn’t believe it. It was like she’d come back from the dead.

They tried to lift her up, tried to put the helmet back on her, tried to drag her toward the water, but she immediately started fighting with them.

“C’mon—we have to get out of here!” Nolan screamed at her.

But five sharp fingernails were suddenly piercing their way through his thick combat suit and into his skin. She had grabbed on to him and would not let go.

He tried to shake her, tried to tear her hand away. She was looking all around her, her expression confused and horrified. It was as if she didn’t know where she was, or even who she was.

Then her eyes fell on the Black Hole—and she screamed:
“We can’t leave!”

“We
have
to leave!” Nolan yelled back. “Those goons are right on our asses…”

“We’re
not
leaving,” she insisted, her voice sounding different than before. “Not without those people…”

Nolan just stared back at her. She looked different, too.

“What people? What are you talking about?”

“
Those
people,” she said, pointing at the pitiful collection of humans huddled in the Black Hole below. “We
have to
save them. We
have to
get them out of here!”

“Save them?” Nolan yelled back, totally confused. “Why?”

“Because they’re human beings…”

Gunner took a look into the Black Hole.

“I don’t think
any of them
will be buying your latest DVD anytime soon,” he yelled at her.

She took a swing at him, missing widely, but causing all three of them to tumble to the ground. It was a good thing, too, as another stream of gunfire went over their heads a moment later.

“This is not about that!” she screamed at Gunner.

“Then what the hell
is it
about?” Nolan shouted back at her.

She was trying to look in all directions at once, even though she could barely keep her head upright. She looked totally confused and totally out of it.

“I don’t know!” she screamed back at them. “I just know we’ve got to do it!”

“But how?” Nolan shouted.

She started looking around again—it was obvious she was making it up as she went along.

Then she pointed out to the harbor. “We’ll take one of those old ships,” she said excitedly. “There’s plenty of them out there. We’ll take one—and we’ll load these people on. And we’ll get them away from this horrible place!”

Nolan almost couldn’t speak. He started stammering. It was like she was a different person.

“But … but…”

“But what?”

“But that’s just too … complicated,” he heard himself say.

“Why?” she asked. “Why is it complicated?”

Nolan was completely flustered now. “I don’t know,” was all he could say. “It just is…”

She was furious—and crying—at the same time.

“I thought you guys were supposed to be heroes,” she said angrily.

Gunner started yelling at her. “Is this the part where you tell us you hit your head and can’t remember who you are?”

She swung at him again—missing again, but knocking them all off their feet a second time.

She roared back him, “For the first time ever, I
know
who I am.…”

They ducked another barrage of tracer fire, this one extremely close.

Nolan said to her, “Look, how about if we come back for them?”

“Come back?”
she replied. “When? And with who? When will you get them a ship if not now?”

She never gave Nolan a chance to answer. She started screaming:
“Bolay! Bolay!”
to the startled people below.

Then she grabbed Nolan’s M4 out of his hands and ran back down the dune and into the Black Hole, yelling at the emaciated people to follow her.

Nolan and Gunner just looked at each other, totally bewildered. The Senegals were simply stunned.

“Elle est devenue folle!”
one of them yelled. She’s gone crazy …

But Alpha Squad had no choice. They couldn’t leave her here.

So they ran after her.

*   *   *

Gottabang Bay

THE
TAIWAN SONG
was a general-purpose cargo vessel.

Seventy years old, rusty and devoid of paint, it was 510 feet long, with a bridge at middeck and ancient loading cranes front and back. It was of utilitarian design, built decades before the first appearance of the super-sized modern ships, and ordinary in just about every way.

It had sailed around the world innumerable times, but now its engines were shot, it was leaking in dozens of places and its electrical systems barely worked at twenty percent. Filled with asbestos-coated pipes, paneling like flash paper and even a lead-lined water tank, its Malaysian owners decided it was time to give up the ghost. They’d made a deal with the Gottabang cutting operation to have the ship broken for a payment of $150,000 cash.

There were only four crewmen remaining on board tonight. The captain had left the day before, taking a dozen hands to a new command out of Singapore. The four who remained, South Koreans all, would stay with the ship until the end, which was scheduled for shortly after sun up.

In fact, the
Taiwan Song
was first in line to be broken that day. When the call came from shore, the small crew would start the ship’s balky engines and rev them up to the highest possible RPMs. Eventually steering toward the beach at absolute high tide, they would force the old ship up onto the sand as far as it could go—and that would be it. Once the vessel reached the beach, it would no longer be considered a sailing ship. At that moment, it would simply be “pre-scrap material.”

Or so they thought.

The four crewmen had spent this last night up on the bridge, mixing coffee with
cheongju
, getting buzzed while staying awake. It seemed the right thing to do for this ship that would soon cease to be a ship. Most merchant sailors had gruff, hard-core exteriors, but many were sentimental about the ships they’d served on. These four had crewed the
Taiwan Song
for a long time. They were sad to see her go.

But around 0100 hours, strange things began to happen. The crewmen had just brewed another pot of coffee and were sweetening it with their potent rice wine when they heard what sounded like gunfire coming from the shore.

They retrieved their rudimentary night-vision glasses and the senior man put them on. The first thing he saw were fireworks—or what he thought were fireworks—about a quarter mile away. There were dozens of red and orange streaks crisscrossing the sky over a small hill just up from the beach. He watched these pyrotechnics for about a minute—then he saw a helicopter. Or at least he
thought
it was a helicopter. There was so much smoke and fireworks going off, he couldn’t see it very clearly. Whatever it was came into view just above all the commotion, going into a lower hover. Seconds later, it illuminated a piece of ground with an extremely powerful light, something brighter than the senior crewman had ever seen coming from an aircraft.

This display lasted just a few seconds before the bright light suddenly went out. There was a chance that this aircraft was shot at, and possibly even shot down. Either way, the sailor lost sight of it a moment later.

About the same time, the fireworks doubled in intensity—but then just as quickly, they faded down to nothing and it was dark again on the other side of the hill.

The sailors knew the ship-breaking beach employed a ruthless security apparatus to keep its 20,000 laborers in line. Maybe some of these gunmen had been drinking too much and things got out of hand.

But then the senior man saw another curious sight. At least a hundred people were making their way over the hill, through the greasy saw grass and down to the beach. Women and children mostly, they were all dressed in rags and many seemed sick. Some couldn’t walk and had to be helped by others.

The senior crewman’s first thought was that these people were somehow responsible for all the tumult he’d just seen and were about to be executed by the Gottabang security forces. But how exactly? Were the security people going to shoot all these women and children? Or slash them to death? Or walk them into the dirty water and drown them?

None of the sailors wanted to see that.

But just as the senior man was about to turn away, another weird thing happened. Off to his left, a huge plane came into view.

It roared over their ship, its large nose pointing toward the water’s surface. Just when it seemed the plane was going straight into the sea, the sailor realized it was an amphibian and it was
landing
on the water.

But why?

The hundred people were on the beach by now, and the seaplane was moving over toward them. But the senior man knew that a plane that size could hold maybe forty people tops.

The attention of the four sailors was so locked on what was happening on the beach for the next few minutes, they never noticed the two shadowy shapes sneak onto the bridge behind them.

It was the reflection in the ship’s windshield that finally gave them away. The sailors turned to find two huge individuals in combat suits and giant helmets holding enormous weapons on them.

“We’re really sorry, boys,” one finally said in English, “but we have to borrow your ship.”

11

FROM TWO MILES up, Monte Carlo looked like something from a dream.

Dozens of glittering high-rise buildings sprouting almost naturally from the side of a stately mountain; long, winding, tree-lined streets wrapped like ribbons around the city’s undulating topography; a harbor full of yachts, mega-yachts and even giga-yachts, surrounded by water that shimmered like Perrier.

Batman and Twitch were up on the
Shin-2
’s flight deck, noses pressed against the cockpit glass, looking down on it all. Everything below them was clean, shiny and new. A magical place, captured permanently by a Nikon Starlight lens.

Five minutes later, they were down with a splash in Monte Carlo Bay. It was just after nine in the morning. The place was even more enchanting from eye level. The flying boat sped past the fleets of magnificent multimillion-dollar vessels; some were as big as warships and some were even bigger. A few made
The Immaculate Perception
look like a rowboat.

It was enough for Batman to forget all the weirdness from a few hours ago. He’d never been here before, but he was particularly in awe of this place. After being kicked out of Delta Force, he’d gone to work on Wall Street before getting caught up in the Wall Street meltdown and then the Madoff scandal. He’d seen wealth flaunted before; it provided a strange excitement to him. But he’d never seen anything like this.

The
Shin-2
slowed and taxied toward the inner harbor. Its arrival had not gone unnoticed. Passing two rows of fireboats, the crews sent out great plumes of water, greeting the grand seaplane. Cruise ships and nearby mega-yachts sounded their horns in welcome. Fireworks were shot off. Somewhere a band was playing.

“Is all this for us?” Twitch asked the
Shin-2
’s pilots. Unlike the people flying
Shin-1
, they were civilian pilots from the U.S.

“My guess it’s more for who people
think
is aboard,” the first pilot replied.

“The Ice Princess, you mean?” Batman asked him.

“More like Ice Bitch,” Twitch said.

The cockpit erupted in laughter.

At that point, a formation of police helicopters went overhead trailing long red and blue streamers. More fireworks went off.