“They found her!” she shouted. “They found the Queen!”
26
Dennis Liu couldn’t believe how smoothly things had gone so far. Like an award-winning movie production, the takeover of the giant ocean liner had proceeded with split second timing and superb coordination.
All of the vital watch stations had been taken, with his people currently placed in strategic areas throughout the ship to guarantee that their captives wouldn’t try to challenge them.
Having the nine heads of state as hostages was the ultimate bargaining chip, and Liu doubted that any of the crew would do anything foolish to compromise their safety. Yet as a student of the Way, Liu knew that he had to be prepared for every contingency, no matter how improbable it might seem.
To insure that Sunny had properly secured the Bridge, he decided to pay it a personal visit. As he climbed up its access way he visualized his assault force as they climbed these same steps in preparation for their initial takeover. This act was timed to coincide with Liu’s own arrival in the Queens Grill.
To get past the security camera monitoring the Bridge’s locked doorway, they used one of the Philippine stewards as a decoy. A gun pointed at his back insured his cooperation. Once his identity was confirmed by the Bridge watch, the automatic bolts were triggered, with Sunny and his two-man force now free to burst into the Control Room.
Liu was afforded the luxury of merely having to press the doorbell two times and looking up to the lens of the overhead video camera, to gain entrance. The door lock automatically unbolted itself with a loud buzz, and he entered what was now his Bridge.
A gust of whistling wind engulfed him as the air pressure was suddenly equalized. The light was dim here, to protect the watch stander’s night vision. As his eyes adjusted, he spotted Sunny standing behind the softly glowing luminescent dials of the center console. His associate was armed with an MP-5 submachine gun that he had casually trained on the two officers seated on tall stools before an auxiliary navigation plot. Liu recognized them as the ship’s first officer and his navigator.
Both of them were rather calmly sipping their teas, their stares lost in the black seas visible out the forward observation windows.
Liu had to steady himself against the side of one of the navigation consoles when a large swell rocked the ship. By glancing down at the console’s display screen, he was able to determine that the QE2 had broken out of its previous great circle route, and was presently headed on a north-by-northeasterly course, away from the normal transatlantic shipping lanes and the probing eyes of the pre positioned recon satellites above.
By addressing the console’s ball-shaped mouse with the palm of his right hand, Liu was able to determine that at their present speed and course, they’d be passing over the Hecate Seamount shortly after dawn.
His old friend Lee Shao-chi and the crew of the Lijiang should be waiting for them there, and the next portion of their mission would then be initiated.
Satisfied that all looked well, Liu joined Sunny behind the helm.
“Well, comrade,” whispered Liu in Mandarin. “I gather that things went smoothly.”
Sunny replied without shifting his glance from the two officers.
“Incredibly so. The big lady handles like a dream, and so far, I’ve barely heard a peep out of the officers; no complaints, no questions, nothing.”
“Typical stubborn English resolve,” observed Liu. “But don’t kid yourself. They know that we’re their new masters, and they will continue to serve us as long as we can keep the upper hand. But to further eliminate the temptation and insure that they don’t attempt to compromise the secrecy of our position, I’m going to make certain that the Bridge’s emergency-locator equipment is disconnected. Only then will this ship’s destiny truly be ours.”
“Per your instructions, I’ve already cut the power to the VHP and HF radio telephones,” revealed Sunny. “I also deactivated the dual GMDSS sets that were mounted behind the navigation plot, right where you said they’d be.”
An acronym for Global Maritime Distress and Safety System, the GMDSS was designed to automatically send a long-range distress signal to a series of orbiting satellites.
“And the distress buoys on the Bridge wings?” queried Liu, in reference to the final system that had to be dealt with.
Sunny shamefully shook his head. “I’m afraid that I forgot about them,” he admitted.
“No matter. I’ll deal with it,” offered Liu, who left Sunny with a supportive pat on the back and took off for the starboard wing.
The cool air outside was refreshing. He readily spotted the bright orange buoy that he was looking for, hanging on the aft rail. Known as the Emergency Position Indicator Radio Beacon, or EPIRB for short, this buoy merely had to hit the water to activate and send a satellite-relayed, hourly position update to NOAA headquarters in Washington, D. C. It was after he ripped out its battery pack and tossed it overboard that he surveyed the cloud-filled night sky. An unexpected flash of lightning momentarily lit up the distant horizon directly astern of them. Liu supposed that this was the first sign of Hurricane Marti’s northern fringe.
He looked on mesmerized, as yet more lightning illuminated the heavens — and briefly highlighted an alien black speck high in the sky.
Another jagged bolt of lightning lit the skies, and revealed it was steadily increasing in size.
Liu cursed with the realization that this object was a helicopter — bound directly for them! A surge of anger generated adrenalin coursed through his body, and like the trained warrior he was, his only thought was of countering this potential threat from above.
“Incoming helicopter, directly astern!” he warned Sunny as he rushed inside and headed for the aft doorway. “Inform Monica and Bear to meet me at the helipad, and make certain that they bring along the RPGs!”
Liu mentally calculated the most direct route to the helipad that was located on the aft end of the Sports Deck, and he exited the Bridge and hurried down the stairs. It was his New York-based, black-market arms dealer who had urged him to take along the two RPG-7D, lightweight, portable rocket launchers. They had been previously stolen from an armory in New Jersey, and subsequently hidden away inside the recesses of their rowing machine. Each of the RPGs came complete with a 4.95-pound, HEAT improved, fused warhead that had been smuggled aboard in a sack of detergent bound for the QE2’s Laundry. With a range of 328 yards and a muzzle velocity of 984 feet per second, the warhead could play havoc with a helicopter’s vulnerable tail rotor, especially when delivered on target via the launcher’s NSP-2 infrared-guided night sight.
But all of this would mean little if the airborne intruder beat him to the helipad. Liu sprinted toward the exterior deck access way adjoining the nearby Radio Room. This route would lead him directly aft, with the helipad only a single deck above.
27
“One hundred feet. One hundred and eighteen knots. Eight miles out.”
A burst of static swallowed the transmission from the Super Stallion, and the occupants of the op center’s conference room anxiously stirred.
Included in this group was Thomas Kellogg, who traded a concerned glance with Brittany as the interference finally cleared.
“Ninety feet. One hundred and seventeen knots. Seven point-five miles out.”
“Kind of makes you miss the old days, doesn’t it, Thomas?” remarked General Ridgeway, an introspective grin on his weather-beaten face.
“That it does, sir,” Thomas replied.