Good! he shouted. Rip them up.
Eddie had almost reached the heavy steel emergency ladder. It was about four feet away, coming closer, then drifting away. He leapt across the gap, then started climbing again, this time straight up in a vertical line.
In less than a minute, he climbed two more stories. He took a deep breath and poked his head over the top. Three of his men were here still alive and holding this corner of the deck. Very good. They could bring all the men up this way.
Eddie glanced down. Four more men were making their way up behind him. Eight heavily armed fighters would soon be on board, with more on the way. The smugglers on the ship probably never had more than a dozen men to begin with.
He slid over the railing.
His men were crouched at the edge where the walkway turned, staring back at him. Two smugglers lay on the catwalk, barely even corpses, their bodies eviscerated by machine gun fire.
Eddie barely glanced at them. Dark black men, small, Congolese, probably Hutus. Africans yes, but savages. Eddie Killem Dead was Kanuri. That was a heritage to be proud of. These men were trash.
Lets go, he said to his own men. Lets finish it.
He had an Uzi strapped to his back. He unslung it and turned the corner. Fifty yards ahead, a spray of bullets shredded the walls. The fishing boat was still strafing the side of the freighter. Two more men lay dead on the walkway. Beyond them was dizzying blue sky and dark sea.
Eddie and his men moved up the walkway, boots making a metallic sound on the steel mesh below them. The catwalk itself shuddered with each step they took it felt like it might separate from its frame. This freighter was in bad shape.
Up ahead, a new white flag stuck out from a porthole and waved on a stick. Maybe this was the real surrender, maybe it wasnt.
The bullhorn was strapped to Eddies shoulder. He pulled it down and held it to his lips. Throw your weapons out! he said. All of them.
An AK-47 slid out of the next porthole. Then a nine-millimeter semiautomatic handgun. A machete. Another gun. They clanged and clattered as they hit the catwalk.
Eddie waved his men ahead.
Blow it, he said.
The first man took a grenade from his vest pocket, pulled the pin, and tossed it through the porthole. Frantic shouts came from inside. Eddies men ducked back. A second passed. Two.
BOOOOOM.
A flash of red and orange light came through the portholes. Now someone inside there was screaming. Eddie moved to the first porthole and glanced in. The cabin was on fire. Several bodies and body parts were strewn about the floor. Two men seemed to still be alive. One was quiet and breathing heavily, his chest heaving. He would be dead soon. The other one was shrieking, eyes wild.
Eddie looked at one of his men and made a slicing motion across his own throat. The man nodded and slid in through the ragged porthole. A moment later, the screaming stopped.
Eddie moved quickly, sprinting up a set of ironwork stairs. Eight men were with him now. The hostile boarding was complete. No one would hold this ship against them. He grinned at the thought of it.
His crew was efficient, man. Killers.
They came to the pilot house, which was all windows. There were three men inside. Eddie could look inside and see them clearly. They didnt even try to keep Eddie and his boys out. What good would it do?
Eddie simply opened the door and walked in.
The men were small and middle-aged, each one wearing a tan uniform. They looked like government officials of some kind. It was a joke. They were smugglers, sailing an old, decrepit freighter, wearing stolen or fake uniforms. Most of the equipment in this pilot house seemed broken, useless. Eddie smiled at them.
Who is the captain?
The three men stared, uncertain.
Tell me, or I will kill all three.
The man in the middle, the smallest and oldest of the three, nodded. He was perfectly bald. His hands were large and his skin was dark black. His face was deeply lined. I am the captain.
Eddie nodded. He glanced at his own men.
Two gunshots rang out, and the men flanking the captain instantly sank to the floor, both dead before they reached it.
The smell of gunpowder rose in the room.
Where are the diamonds? Eddie said now.
The captain was calm. He hardly seemed surprised at the death all around him. By the looks of him, he had been alive, and at sea, a long time. He was probably accustomed to this sort of thing. He lowered his hands and shook his head.
There are no diamonds.
No diamonds? Eddie said, his grin broader than ever. Are you certain?
Yes. There is nothing that you might want.
Why did you fight then? What were you trying to protect?
The captain shrugged. Ourselves. Because you are dirty Nigerian pirates. We knew you would slaughter us if you captured the ship.
What is on board here? Eddie said. Surely there is something.
I will say it again, the captain said. There is nothing here that you want. And you will be happier if you leave it where you found it. I assure you of this.
Eddie laughed. Something important, then. Show me.
They went below decks. The captain walked Eddie and his men through hold after empty hold, moving ever downward into the bowels of the ship. There were no signs of life, not even rats. There were also no signs of cargo just dark, rusty, empty holds swept clean.
Finally, they entered a large room. A tall bulk loomed in the darkness. Eddies men didnt need to be told what to do. They put the flashlights on it.
As they approached, the thing became clearer. It was a large steel box, gunmetal gray. The edges were welded together. It wasnt clear how to open it, other than perhaps cutting it with a blowtorch. There were Cyrillic markings on the outside CCCP. That was interesting. The initials of the old Soviet Union. That meant this thing had been kicking around for more than twenty years. It towered above their heads.
What is it? Eddie said softly, his voice echoing through the cavernous hold. A weapon of some kind?
I dont know, the captain said.
Eddie looked at him sharply. You dont know what it is?
The man shook his head. It is not my job to know. Its none of my business.
This thing had gotten everyone on his ship killed, and pretty soon, it would get him killed, too. But somehow it was none of his business.
Who is your client?
The man stared balefully, perhaps imagining the torture he would endure until he offered satisfactory answers.
If I tell you, they will kill me.
Eddie shrugged. Yes, but if you dont tell me
You will also kill me.
I killed all your men, Eddie said. You are only alive because I say so. Your only hope is to tell me. Perhaps you can avoid your client. Maybe for a short while, maybe forever. But avoid me? Its too late for that.
Your life will be forfeit if I tell you, the man said.
Eddie smiled. How many times had his life been forfeit?
Tell me anyway.
CHAPTER FIVE
6:51 a.m. Eastern Standard Time
Headquarters of the Special Response Team
McLean, Virginia
Not even 7 oclock, and there were half a dozen private cars in the parking lot, to go with the four black agency SUVs. The lot had already been plowed once, and a groundskeeper was out snow-blowing the walkways.
Thats what Luke liked to see people ahead of the game. Technically, the place didnt open until nine.