Much to his utter horror, there was another man inside! This stocky individual was dressed in a standard officer’s uniform, and was seated in front of what appeared to be a radio transmitter. He had headphones over his ears, and looked just as surprised as Thomas to have a visitor.
Long before Thomas could even think about pulling out his weapon, the stranger grasped a 9mm Beretta handgun and used its barrel to signal Thomas to shut the door. Only then did he remove his headphones, and while curiously studying his visitor’s strange garb, pointedly questioned with a distinctive English accent.
“I’m almost afraid to ask, but who in the blue blazes are you?”
32
Vince Kellogg knew it was going to be a difficult day, from the moment the muted light of dawn became visible outside the Queens Grill’s picture window. It had been a miserable, sleepless night, aggravated by the QE2’s constant pitching and their cramped living quarters. Since the takeover, their captors had confined them to their tables, and those able to sleep, had to do so right there. The limited restroom facilities were inadequate; in place of caviar, lobster, and champagne, a platter of tuna fish sandwiches along with several pitchers of ice water were inelegantly pulled out on a serving cart.
Food was definitely not on Vince’s mind, as he spent the early morning hours contemplating their dilemma. Beyond blaming himself for allowing this hijacking to occur, the central focus of his thoughts was on figuring out a way to retake the ship.
What little whispered conversation he was able to have with his equally concerned table mates resulted in their writing a message. The note stressed patience, and was circulated amongst the other security agents.
As it was passed from table to table, an alert sentry intercepted it.
This brought a visit from Dennis Liu, who expressed his displeasure with a threatening round of submachine-gun fire.
As Liu exited, they realized they’d have to act soon. As both captives and captors continued to tire, it was only a matter of time before either a minor incident, such as the discovery of their note, or the foolhardy efforts of a hotshot hero, would ignite the volatile atmosphere.
As it turned out, the spark occurred later that afternoon. After spending a frustrating, tense day, with nothing to do but try to catch a few minutes’ sleep, or dare trade a whispered secret with one’s associates, the Russians attempted a breakout.
It took place near dusk, when two of the Russian agents rose to use the restroom. Since only one individual at a time was allowed in either of the two small bathrooms, their joint efforts drew the immediate attention of the nearest terrorist.
This black-clad figure had long ago removed his hood, and was armed with a Sterling submachine gun. Hartwell had identified him as a member of the ship’s Laundry.
Vince could see it coming, as the two Russians approached the men’s room, and the guard ran to intercept them. As he shouted for them to stop, one of the Russians, either by accident or plan, collided with the cart holding the sandwiches. The force of the collision was enough to send him crashing down hard on the cart’s glass top, instantly shattering it, and sending the water-filled pitchers flying.
The other Russian used this noisy distraction to his advantage, as he reached his fallen associate’s side just as the sentry did. Though it initially appeared that he was just bending over to assist his coworker, the agent instead grabbed one of the partially filled pitchers, and flung its icy contents into the guard’s face. Then without hesitation, he sprang up, ripped the submachine gun off the blinded sentry’s shoulder, and immobilized him with a painful arm lock.
The other Russian retrieved the Sterling and aimed it at their prisoner.
This commotion drew the attention of Monica Chang and Bear, who had been standing watch beside the Grill’s aft entryway. Her figure well displayed by the tight black jumpsuit she wore, the actress showed a savage, vicious side that Vince never saw portrayed on the movie screen.
“Let go of him this instant!” she screamed.
Monica addressed her two-way radio, before following Bear to the overturned cart, where the Russians stood with their prisoner.
“I said let go of him!” she ordered, emphasizing her determination by letting loose a deafening round of bullets into the Grill’s ceiling.
The Russians didn’t budge, and if anything, the fact that a woman had arrived to challenge them, only served to bolster their confidence.
“No, comrade,” countered the agent holding the disarmed terrorist.
“It’s you who will let all of us free.”
“Like hell I will,” Monica retorted, aiming the barrel of her weapon at the armed Russian’s forehead. Bear kept his gun turned on the rest of the room to discourage anyone from joining in.
The tense standoff was broken minutes later by the breathless arrival of Dennis Liu and Max Kurtyka. They hurried over to join Monica.
Liu alertly sized up the situation. With his lungs still heaving for breath, he pulled out his 45 caliber sidearm and also aimed it at the forehead of the Russian holding the prisoner.
“I’ll only ask once, comrade. Let him go!” Liu ordered.
The Russians did their best to use their hostage for cover, the one holding him bending his knees slightly, to hide his head behind that of his shorter prisoner. “I’m warning you. I’ll kill this man if you don’t put down your guns and surrender,” instructed the other Russian, who jammed the barrel of his weapon up against the Asian’s neck.
Dennis Liu answered with a wicked, devilish laugh, that was all too soon shared by his fellow terrorists. “You really think that this man’s life means anything to us?” managed Liu between continued peals of laughter.
“Our movement is a billion-and-a-half strong, and one individual’s life is insignificant!”
There was gathering madness evident in Liu’s glowing eyes, as he clicked off the pistol’s safety. Max wasn’t about to miss out on all the action, and he lifted his own pistol, which he aimed at the unarmed Russian.
“Just say the word, Chief,” offered Max, a sadistic edge to his tone.
“And I’ll send this Russkie to meet his fucking maker.”
Liu added impatiently, “Enough of this foolishness! Re lease our man, or both of you shall die, along with your cherished president.”
This last threat caused the armed Russian to turn the Sterling on the trio facing him and pull the trigger. A blazing gunfight erupted that sent all of the room’s other occupants diving to the floor for cover.
By the time Vince and his table mates looked up, the report of the last round still reverberating in their ears, only devastation remained. The two Russians and their prisoner were crumpled on the carpeted deck, their lifeless, blood-soaked bodies in a tangled heap.
Dennis Liu and Monica Chang miraculously remained standing, completely untouched. Kneeling beside them was a badly bleeding Bear, who had taken a round in the shoulder. Max Kurtyka’s bullet-ridden corpse lay sprawled out close by, his body still twitching in the final throes of death.
The scent of cordite hung thick in the air, as Kristin Liu came sprinting through the aft entryway. Her relief was apparent upon seeing her father, then she spotted Bear.
“We need a doctor over here!” she cried while kneeling beside her wounded associate, trying her best to stem the spurting blood with a table napkin.
Her father appeared to be more concerned with Max Kurtyka’s lifeless corpse. There was a startled look of disbelief in his dark eyes, as Liu watched his computer expert issue his final breath.
“Oh shit!” he cursed. “Who’s going to get the codes off?”