Kill Decision (50 page)

“Mooch, you can speak the most convincing medical bullshit—you play the role of personal aide. Ripper, you’re his panicked wife.”

Ripper started peeling off her tactical harness. “Haven’t got a ring.”

“Evans!”

Evans tried to conceal his ring-covered hands. “Goddammit, are you for real?”

“Cough up one of those pinky rings for Ripper, and put another one on our disabled husband here.” Odin locked eyes with his team. “It’s a modern car carrier, so we’re probably looking at a crew of twenty to twenty-four people. We only need to gain control of the helm, engine room, and any weapons. Nonlethal force only. No knives—that means you, Ripper. No guns. Disable with hand-to-hand or lachrimatory agents only. Gear up.”

They were stowing their rifle cases, shedding military gear, and concealing pistols beneath their shirts as Foxy brought the chopper down to within a hundred feet above the moving ship. Wind turbulence buffeted them about. McKinney just now realized how perilous landing on the ship would be. Her nervousness about the imminent hijacking and drones faded in importance as the chopper lurched, dropped, and yawed to the side.

Odin shook his head. “Jesus, Foxy, you still remember how to fly this thing?”

“That helipad wasn’t meant for a chopper this size—and they’re going full steam.”

“Well, land this goddamned thing. We don’t have the fuel to mess around.”

Several crew members waved them away frantically as the large chopper continued its rapid descent, bucking against the turbulence.

McKinney felt her heart go into her throat as the Sikorsky quickly dropped half the distance to the helipad and slowed only ten feet or so off the deck. There was a bang as some part of the chopper hit a light mast or any of a number of objects crowding the helipad. Moments later the helicopter thumped down on the helipad, bounced slightly, and then finally came to a rest.

“Wow, you almost got part of the chopper onto the helipad.”

Foxy was busy shutting off the engines, which began to wind down. “I deserve a goddamned medal for getting it on the ship with all that turbulence.”

Odin noticed a half-dozen Caucasian men racing up a staircase toward the chopper, but they hesitated to be certain it had stopped moving. “Showtime, people.” He opened the copilot door, rapidly followed by Mooch and Smokey carrying the unconscious Ritter from the larger passenger door. Everyone else piled out, sincerely relieved to have landed.

The lead ship crew member was a bearded, husky blond man in a neat khaki uniform and captain’s hat. He didn’t look at all happy as he noticed the unconscious Ritter being carried toward him. He shouted to be heard over chopper wash and decreasing turbofan engine noise. His English had a slight Nordic accent. “What’s wrong with him?”

Odin leaned close, pointing to the stricken man. “Medical emergency. We think it’s a stroke. Big oil executive. His wife ordered us to land.”

“She could have gotten you all killed, not to mention my crew.”

“Do you have a doctor on board?”

The captain nodded, still looking annoyed. “The second mate is a paramedic. Follow me.” He turned to the other crew members. “Get that chopper tied down before it rolls off the pad. And deploy fire hoses.”

The crewmen launched into action as Odin pulled McKinney along, following Smokey, Mooch, the inconsolable Ripper, and the ship’s captain. Ripper shrieked, grabbing for Ritter’s suit sleeve and blurting out exclamations in some language McKinney didn’t recognize—possibly Dutch or German. It amazed her how quickly Ripper could transform herself.

In a few moments the captain brought them through a hatchway into the relative quiet and calm of the ship. As they moved down a stairwell, still more crewmen of various ethnicities—Asian, Caucasian, Latino, and Filipino—crowded the hall below and helped lower the unconscious Ritter down a narrow metal gangway.

They reached a pipe- and conduit-lined corridor below, and Foxy called after Odin, “You need us or should we wait, or . . . ?”

Odin gestured to Foxy, Evans, and now Smokey, who had fallen behind. “Is there somewhere where they can make a call to shore?”

The bearded captain called out to another, younger, clean-shaven blond man in a green jumpsuit. “Valentin,
ta dem till allrummet.
” The captain turned to Odin. “He’ll take them.”

Odin motioned for the remainder of his team to follow the younger seaman, and they continued carrying Ritter forward with the captain. After a few turns they arrived in a more comfortably appointed section, where the corridors were wider and better lit. There was even a room with a skylight, cabinets, and dining tables with chairs. This area was also painted in brighter colors and had wooden doors with names printed on them in English on black stenciled plaques.

A third Nordic man in a khaki uniform intercepted them. He was athletically built with dark hair, splotchy skin, and old acne scars.

The captain barked, “Jöran, they think he had a stroke.”

The man became agitated.
“Varför fortsatte de inte till fastlandet?”

“Just help them.”

The second mate came alongside Mooch. “You should have kept going to the mainland. I don’t have real medical facilities here.”

The captain pushed forward. “The wife insisted they land. Jöran, please!” He motioned for them to follow toward a nearby open door.

Odin was already scanning the corridor, surreptitiously inserting his earplug radios. McKinney felt her anxiety build as she noticed there were only three crew members present: the captain, the second mate, and another crewman helping to carry Ritter.

Odin spoke softly. “Execute, execute, execute.”

In an instant Ripper slipped a device from her sleeve into her palm and sprayed something in the second mate’s face, dropping the man as he screamed. Mooch twisted the captain’s arm back while he and Odin shoved him against the wall. Odin rapidly secured the man’s wrists with zip-ties. By the time McKinney was able to look over to Ritter, she could see that Smokey had likewise subdued the crew member there with chemical spray. Both he and Ripper were zip-tying their prisoners, who were groaning pitiably.

Odin pulled the captain forward, as the bearded, barrel-chested Swede shouted, “You scum!
Du borde skämmas!
Taking advantage of our mercy—”

Odin produced the machine gun from his bag. He chambered a round. “Captain! What is your name?”

He stared daggers. “I am Birghir Jönsson, senior captain for W and W.”

“Captain Jönsson, where is your weapons locker?”

“We don’t have weapons on board this ship. We are civilized people.”

Mooch nodded. “If it’s a Swedish ship, I don’t doubt him. Owners don’t want the crew trying to resist pirates. They’d be outgunned.”

The captain stared in rage toward his second mate, who was still coughing and gagging on the floor under Ripper’s knee. “You’re animals. . . .”

“He’ll be fine in a few minutes. How many others aboard?”

The captain spoke through clenched teeth. “Twenty-two crew.” McKinney noticed Odin listening to his earphone radio. “Okay . . . affirmative.” Odin focused back on the Swede. “Captain, your helm and engine room are now under my control. No one has been hurt, and I don’t want anyone hurt. Just order your crew to abandon ship.”

He eyed Odin with growing rage. “You think you’re going to just sail away with two thousand BMWs? You won’t get far. I promise you that.”

“We aren’t planning on getting far.”

Mooch raised his eyebrows. “Did he say two thousand BMWs?”

The captain was on a rant. “You’ll have no way of unloading the cars from the ship before they track you down. You’ll not reach land.”

“Right on both counts.” He pulled the bound captain toward his quarters and opened the door. “Get on the PA and order your crew to abandon ship. Time is a factor.”

“You are an imbecile, if you think you can get away with this.”

“The safest thing is for you and your crew to abandon ship. Without any hostages on board, the authorities can sweep down on us without innocent people getting hurt.”

The captain just glared at him for several moments.

Odin leaned in toward him. “I saw that free-fall emergency boat. You and the crew get inside and launch. The sooner you evacuate, the sooner you can radio for help.”

Jönsson narrowed his eyes. “There is something else going on here.”

“Get on the PA, Captain.”

“What are you planning on doing with my ship?”

“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“I don’t believe you now.”

“Very well. This ship is about to be attacked by thousands of military drones that will kill everyone on board as they cut it to pieces.”

The captain’s face went slack.

“Now, you can either stick around for that or bail out now with your crew and call for help. Which is it?”

He was weighing the matter. “Are you the group causing the distress calls we’ve been hearing?”

“What distress calls?”

“An Indonesian freighter said they were under aerial attack. We haven’t heard from them in the last twenty minutes. Search planes have been dispatched from the mainland.”

“That’s just going to wind up getting more people killed.”

“Killed?”

“We passed that freighter just as it was going under. Did any of their broadcasts make sense to you, Captain?”

The captain struggled to find words, then finally settled for “No. They said dozens of small planes were attacking them.”

“It’s a new class of autonomous combat drone, Captain—ship-cutters. And they’ve gotten loose.”

“You must be joking. Robot aircraft attacking ships?”

Odin grabbed the PA handset from the wall and shoved it in front of his face. “Get talking, Captain Jönsson. The longer you wait, the more likely it is that your entire crew will wind up dead.”

“But we are under way at twenty knots.”

Odin pounded the wall next to the man’s head. “I’m finished negotiating with you. We both know damn well that boat can be launched while under way.”

“It’s not safe.”

“
Safe
is a relative term. Inside an hour there will be ten thousand killer drones on top of us.”

“Ten thousand?”

“Make the announcement—in English, please.”

The captain sighed deeply, and then nodded as Odin keyed the PA handset. “Attention, crew. Attention, crew. This is Captain Jönsson. The
Tonsberg
has been boarded and hijacked by armed men. Do not panic, and do not resist them. All crew members are to move with urgency to the free-fall boat. This is your order to abandon ship. Repeat: Abandon ship with urgency and prepare to deploy while under way.”

Odin nodded and hung the PA mic back on its hook. “Thank you.”

They could already hear shouting and footsteps running over metal plating elsewhere above and below them. The ship started to lean to the left as it went into a steep turn.

The captain frowned. “Why are we turning?”

“Head for the lifeboat, Captain.”

“Who is piloting my vessel?”

Two crewmen in blue coveralls came rushing out of a doorway and halted in surprise at the sight of Odin wielding the submachine gun.

The captain motioned to them. “Take Jöran and Pindal to the escape boat.” On their uncertainty he added, “Now!”

Mooch was using wet wipes to wash away the mace from the faces of the stricken men. The two crewmen edged nervously alongside to take charge of them.
“Kommer du, Kapten?”

“Jag stannar med skeppet.”

The crewmen looked grim-faced as they performed a capable fireman’s carry and shouldered the men down the hall.

“Get going, Captain.”

“I’m staying with my ship.”

Odin raised the gun.

“My crew is leaving, and I cannot let you take charge of this vessel in an active shipping lane. You could cause a collision, an oil spill, or worse. You tell me where you need to go, and I will take you there.”

Mooch was checking Ritter’s pulse. “We could use the help, chief.”

Odin shook his head. “He has no idea what we’re headed into.”

The captain looked down at Ritter. “Is that man really ill?”

Mooch put away his stethoscope. “He’s been sedated. If you have any doubts that we’re about to be attacked by drones, see how he acts when he wakes up.”

“I am staying. If what you claim is true, then a skilled captain will be useful. And I know my ship.”

Odin lowered the MP5. “I refuse to take responsibility for your decision. You were warned.” He gestured for the captain to walk first. “Now lead us to the bridge.”

Mooch called after Odin. “What about Ritter?”

“Secure him. We’ll deal with him later.”

McKinney followed Odin and the captain up several metal gangways, gaining height until they finally emerged in the center of a narrow but long control room running the entire width of the ship. It was lined, front, back, and sides, with tall, durable-looking windows fitted with vertical windshield wipers. The room was bordered at waist level with consoles populated by switches, phone handsets, radios, radar screens, and built-in computer displays. Behind that was another console with a ship’s wheel and throttle controls, along with wide counters on which sat navigational charts and remote camera monitors for various sections of the ship.

The helm had a commanding view of the sea in every direction as well as down onto the ship’s deck—a couple of hundred feet or so behind the control tower stood the Sikorsky helicopter, already lashed down on the small helipad. Beyond that McKinney could see the curving trail of the ship’s wake as they made a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn to the south in pursuit of the
Ebba Maersk
.

Evans stood at the wheel of the ship, examining computer screens. He glanced up when they entered. “How’s the hijacking going?”

“Don’t touch anything.” Odin nudged him aside.

“Foxy started the turn, and then took off with the crew. What’s going on?”

“He’s escorting them to the escape boat. The captain’s staying.”

Evans raised his eyebrows. “Really. Can I take his place in the lifeboat?”

Odin shook his head. “Mission’s not done yet, Mort.”