The Olympus Device: Book Three (37 page)

The admiral continued climbing, the slick, wet rungs requiring all of his concentration. Only once did he glance over his shoulder, noting that the yacht had already drifted out of position. “Fuck this,” he mumbled. “I don’t need that asshole any longer. He’s nothing but a pain in the ass.”

When he finally reached the top, the admiral stepped onto the main deck and swept right and left for any defenders. Finding no resistance, he pulled the RPG launcher around from his back.

Pointing the powerful weapon downward at the yacht below, the admiral centered the sights on the small oval of Senator Hughes’s face, the frightened man staring directly into the rocket’s muzzle. He pulled the trigger.

The Russian designed weapon ignited, a powerful rocket motor accelerating the warhead downward into the yacht’s thin, fiberglass hull.

The grenade actually missed Hughes by several feet, easily punching a hole in the first and second decks before detonating directly above the engine spaces and the nearly empty fuel tanks.

As Armstrong peered down, the rear third of
Gabby’s Girl
erupted in a massive fireball, the heat and blast forcing the admiral to turn away and protect his face. In less than a minute, the only trace of the multi-million dollar vessel was an oily slick of debris fading quickly in
Parthenon
’
s
wake.

“Now we have no choice,” Armstrong whispered, returning his attention to the task of taking over the larger ship. “We win… or we die, and today isn’t a good day to die.”

Dusty made it to the forward rail, crouching low to peek around the corner. He spied a group of four men, scrambling up the metal staircase leading to the bridge above. It was evident they were the pirates, and that there was little the crew could do to stop them.

In the center of the main deck, movement drew the Texan’s eye. He watched as two of
Parthenon
’s defenders manned a fire hose, the thick jet of high-powered water aimed at a corner of the superstructure where Dusty assumed they’d spotted more boarders.

Dusty returned his gaze to the stair climbers, thinking to kill them before they could reach the bridge. He raised the rail gun to his shoulder and took aim, but then stopped. Behind the ascending enemy was the ship’s main deck. If he fired, he’d split
Parthenon
in half. “Shit,” he barked, trying to figure out how to get off a shot without destroying his new home.

Gunfire sounded from the main deck, the Texan watching in horror as the men wielding the hose were cut down by a flanking shooter. Without hesitation, another group of heavily armed pirates disappeared down an entry hatch, clearly on their way to the engine room.

“Makes sense,” Dusty whispered, “Take the bridge and the engine room and you control the ship.”

It dawned on the Texan that there was no way to defend
Parthenon
without destroying her. “We’ve lost,” he concluded. “Time to get out.”

He turned and rushed the short distance to the master stateroom, opening the door and shouting, “Grace, it’s me. We have to get off this ship!”

Captain Bard realized his command was lost at the same moment as Dusty. The RPG blasts had blown the windows out of the bridge deck, shrapnel peppering the two men standing watch.

“Get on the radio and call in a mayday,” he snapped at the first officer. “I’ll try and slow them down.”

After verifying his orders were being executed, Bard scurried to a locked compartment and withdrew the 9MM pistol he’d smuggled aboard. Checking that a round was in the chamber, he turned to his friend and second in command and offered, “Good luck.”

Bard went to the stairwell where he knew they’d be coming. Keeping low, he glanced over the rail and saw the assaulters were only two flights down and ascending quickly.

Trying desperately to steady his shaking hands, Bard squeezed off two shots and then pulled back out of view. Several pings and thwacks volleyed in response, the men below returning his fire.

“That’ll give you something to think about,” Christopher whispered, wishing he could stop shaking.

“Where are we going to go?” Grace asked as she threw items into a small bag. “We’re out in the middle of the ocean!”

“The lifeboats,” Dusty replied, hastily gathering his own things. “They have provisions, including a beacon locator and are designed to handle rough seas. We’ll be okay.”

“So there’s no hope of saving
Parthenon
?”

“No. And if we stay, they’ll just kill us and take the rail gun.”

Nodding her understanding, Grace watched as Dusty hefted his duffel bag and moved for the door. He then hesitated as if he had forgotten something. He rushed back to the still-open vault and grabbed the envelopes containing the new identities Monroe had provided.

“What do you need those for?” Grace asked as they hustled out the door.

“You never know,” Dusty replied.

He made Grace stay several steps behind him, taking an internal passage downward toward the main deck, checking each corner to make sure they didn’t stumble into any pirates.

It was a relief when they finally stepped into the fresh air of the main deck.

Again, Dusty scanned for any attackers and saw none. On his signal, they ran toward the middle of the long ship where the lifeboats hung from their wenches.

Looking like 16-foot long, oversized red capsules of medicine, the emergency boats had been a mandatory part of their tour. Dusty helped Grace climb aboard, and then threw in their belongings. Wishing he’d paid more attention when the first officer had been giving instructions, the Texan studied the winch mechanism that secured the dangling vessel above the sea below.

Finally opting for the lever labeled “Emergency Release,” the Texan turned to Grace and instructed, “Hang on!” while he yanked the handle.

Like a rollercoaster’s drop, both of the escapees’ stomachs relocated into their throats as the lifeboat plunged like a stone. Dusty was sure the impact with the water would kill them both, but then the automatic brakes engaged, lowering them gently into the waves below.

Dusty reached up and released the pins securing the cables, and then they were drifting free.

Armstrong wanted the bridge before Weathers gathered his courage and did something stupid, like blast away with the Olympus Device.

Pushing his men to assault the lone shooter above, he watched with satisfaction as the defending crewman with the pistol was hit with a spray of rifle fire, tumbling over the rail to impact on the deck below.

“Go! Go! Go!” he screamed, motivating his men to complete the assault.

Up they surged, his team finding one last crewman inside the damaged bridge. A quick burst of bullets ended the last of the resistance.

“You two,” Armstrong barked, pointing at a couple of the brawnier specimens, “With me. We’re going to secure the grand prize.”

They found the master suite’s door open, but Armstrong was cautious. Exposing only a small amount of his head, the admiral yelled, “Weathers! Durham Weathers! We now control the ship. Come out, and we can strike a deal. There’s no need to be a hero… no need for any more causalities.”

The admiral waited several beats for a response. When none came, he tried again. “Weathers! You can’t go firing away with that damned blaster of yours. You’ll sink this ship and kill us all. Come on out, and no one will be harmed.”

Again, there was no response.  

“Shit,” the admiral hissed, turning to his two henchmen. “Looks like we’re going to have to do this the hard way.”

“I saw what that son of a bitch did to our armor in Washington,” whispered one of the men. “Can’t we just burn him out or something?”

Shaking his head at the stupidity of the suggestion, Armstrong decided to take the lead. With his weapon shoulder high and ready, the admiral stepped into the entrance, sweeping right and left.

It took the three-man team less than a minute to determine the extensive quarters were unoccupied. Armstrong, standing in front of the empty vault, said, “Now where could they be hiding?”

Another of the boarders appeared in the doorway, “Sir! There’s a lifeboat missing amidships.”

“Fuck!” Armstrong barked, turning to follow the new arrival. “They can’t have been gone long.”