The man yelled at the top of his lungs. Something in Japanese, but Maddock knew it didn’t matter what it was. The crew on deck heard it and two of them came running to check it out. Maddock was about to be found out. He told himself in a fleeting thought just before he bolted that at least he’d be drawing attention away from Bones in the plane. If in fact that’s where he was.
And then he was off like a shot from a low crouch, track-runner style, a backpack-wearing, shirtless sprinter with a knife strapped to his calf, racing along the side of the work deck. He briefly considered that he could dive over the rail and hide in the water, but then dismissed the idea out of hand. What good would that do Bones or the mission? He not only had to escape, but live to return the requested materials to his commander. That’s what he was here for and that’s what he would do, or die trying. He had no doubt that in his position, Bones would do the same for him.
He was surprised to hear no gunshots by the time he reached a narrow gangway that led to a different section of the ship. Footsteps pounded after him on the metal deck and then the gangway. They were right behind him, now. And then shouting, in Japanese, but he was surprised to also recognize an English word: Stop!
The ship’s rail still on his left and only a row of portholes to his right, Maddock had no choice other than to keep running the length of the gangway, his bare feet pounding the metal walkway mesh, his footfalls echoing against the side of the steel ship.
The end of the gangway opened onto a semi-enclosed area with several doorways off to the right. Maddock slowed for a couple of seconds, picked a door and ran for it, hearing the man behind him nearing the end of the gangplank. Maddock got to the door and reached for the handle. It swung open at the same time, a short but burly Mizuhi crewman bursting out of it. His eyes opened wide at the sight of the intruder. He groped for his sidearm, a pistol Maddock recognized as a Korean-made K5 9mm. He held the crewman’s right hand in a vice grip with one hand while he used the other to draw his dive knife.
Maddock brought the butt of the knife up in a swift hammering motion to the underside of his foe’s chin. He heard his teeth knock together and then the man fell backward. Maddock was on him in a flash, knocking him in the head again with the knife butt, taking the K5 as it slipped from his now relaxed hand as the man slumped into the doorway.
The two crewmen from the work deck on Maddock’s heels stood down when they saw Maddock take possession of the firearm. Neither of them were armed. Apparently Tomoaki separated his soldiers from his workmen. Maddock had no time to reflect on this, however, as he backpedaled through the open door.
A tight, ladder-like staircase led up, while a dead-end room opened up in front of him, housing a series of pumps and switches. He looked up the stairs, saw no one up there and leapt onto the rung-like steps, hauling himself up. He came out on a long, narrow hallway with metal doors closed on either side. No people in sight. Below him he heard the crackle of a two-way radio and knew he didn’t have long before reinforcements arrived.
None of the doors had windows set into them, nor could he hear anything behind them. About halfway down the hall, with the first man behind him about to top the ladder, he tried a door to his left. Locked. Tried another, this time on the right. Also locked. He didn’t have time to wonder what was behind them. Kept going, hands flying out to pull on handles as he went…finally, near the end of the hall, with a man cautiously approaching behind him, Maddock turned a handle and a door opened.
A machine shop. Grinders, table saws, lathes, and a host of other tools he was not familiar with. But he recognized it as a dangerous place to be in a fight. He also recognized that there was a door on the far side of the room. He ran through the shop, dodging between workbenches and equipment. He flipped a switch on a table saw as he went by and was pleased to hear it start buzzing, creating a noise screen as he ducked and wheeled across the room.
Maddock slipped out and shut the door just as his pursuers entered the workroom. He looked around at his new surroundings. He was in an open area with a staircase leading up to the ship’s main superstructure, and another down to a gangway on the opposite side of the ship from the one he’d been on to get here. Presumably it also led back to the work deck.
He was not alone here.
Two crewmen stood in conference at the foot of the stairs. He didn’t recognize them. They turned and saw him walk into the space, then did a double-take, one of them reaching for a pistol in a holster at his waist. Maddock raised his new K5.
“Freeze! Drop the gun!” Maddock knew there was a good chance they didn’t understand English, or most of it, but at the same time was pretty sure the meaning was universal.
The unarmed man put his hands up high immediately. The one with the gun hesitated, then raised his hands slowly. When his hands were extended halfway up, he moved suddenly, aiming the gun at Maddock. The SEAL fired his 9mm, hitting his opponent in the wrist, right where he’d aimed. The gun was knocked from his grasp and clattered to the floor where it skidded to a stop not far from the two crewmen.
Neither made a move for it. Blood dripped onto the gray-painted floor from the hand of the man Maddock had wounded.
Then the door to the area opened and the two men in pursuit of Maddock burst out of the workroom, shouting at the sight of the confrontation. Maddock bolted up a staircase that switch-backed up the side of the hulking superstructure, knowing the two men behind him were unarmed or they’d have shot him already. He kept his pistol pointed down as he climbed, wanting to keep them unarmed for as long as possible.
He made it up one level and passed a door there, deciding he wanted more distance between himself and those chasing him. Up another level, leg muscles burning with the effort, flashing on his SEAL training and how all the brutal exercises now made perfect sense to him. He heard the metal rungs below him reverberate with the footfalls of the men after him, and then, much closer, felt the vibration as the door he had just passed slammed shut. Two more crewmen had just emerged from it and started up after Maddock. From the multiple whistles and pings of close-by rounds whizzing around his head and ricocheting off a metal railing, Maddock knew that this pair was armed. And they had orders to kill.
One flight further up he ducked into what looked to be a break room; a billiards table occupied the center of the space, vending machines lined the walls, and a muted television hung in a corner playing a Japanese baseball game. There was another door on the opposite side of the room and Maddock ran to it, wanting to make sure he wasn’t boxed in. It opened onto an upper walkway overlooking the main deck three flights below. He left the door wide open, went back into the rec room and grabbed a pool cue from a rack on the wall.
He ducked behind the pool table, willing himself to silence his labored breathing. He squeezed the pistol, feeling its weight. He hoped he wouldn’t need to use it again, but at the same time knew he had to be ready. As expected, the two gun-toting crew members were first into the room, but Maddock knew the two unarmed ones couldn’t be far behind. He wielded the cue like a bat from his kneeling position, and heard the two men shout something when they saw the open door.
Maddock swung the fat end of the pool stick into the knees of the first gunman as he ran past the end of the pool table. He went down with a shriek of pain, causing the man right behind him to trip over him and go down also. As they lay there in a tangled heap, Maddock used his pool stick to knock the guns out of each of their hands. He hooked one through the trigger guard with the stick and flipped it onto the pool table where it landed halfway into a side pocket.