Sean crawled on his elbows, pulling himself along the surface of the submarine until he reached the gun deck where a small platform's coping gave him enough cover that he could go unseen from the rest of McClain's crew as he made his way to the tower.
He kept going, faster now that he knew he was out of sight. He reached the rear of the tower and waited for thirty seconds, catching his breath and trying to assess the best plan of attack. His respite was short lived. He heard the boots of the man above tapping on the tower roof as he changed position and moved over to the side where Sean was hiding. If the guy looked down, he was done. Sean kept his back pressed against the tower's sidewall and waited. He stared straight up, just in case. The platform above him was only a few feet above his head, well within his jumping capability.
His muscles tensed, ready for action. He had two options now. Take the tower and resume plan A, or plan B: dive into the water and make a run for it. Sean knew the latter wouldn't get him far.
The guard above spat over the side of the railing, sending a tobacco driven brown glob of saliva to the edge of the gun deck off to Sean's right. A second later, the man turned around to return to his previous spot on the other side. Time to move.
Sean turned, bent his knees, and jumped hard. His fingers caught the top edge of the tower, and he pulled up, quickly reaching his right hand higher to grab onto the more grip-friendly railing. Once he had that, he put his other hand up and clasped it. He performed a fast chin-up and swiftly brought his legs and torso through the gap between the upper and lower rails. As he did so, the submachine gun hanging from his shoulder clanked against the bottom rail.
The guard's head twitched at the noise, and he spun around, alert to the danger. Sean had already removed the knife from his belt and took a huge step across the tower deck. The guard whipped his weapon around, ready to fire, but it was too late. Sean swiped the sharp edge of the blade across his throat, opening the skin and slicing the carotid artery. The guard's immediate reaction was to grab at the wound with his free hand. His lifeblood spurted through his fingers and down his arm. His last desperate act was to take out the one who'd killed him. As he dropped to his knees, the guard attempted to aim his weapon and fire, but Sean knocked it aside, spun around, and drove the knife into the man's chest, piercing his heart.
He yanked the blade free and watched the man fall prostrate to the surface. Voices suddenly began shouting from the other catwalk. One of the guards had seen the kill and was drawing attention to the threat. Sean clutched the back of the dead man's wet suit and jerked him up, propping him against the starboard side of the railing to give him a human shield.
Right on cue, the other guards opened fire, riddling their former comrade's body with hot lead. Some of the rounds pinged off the tower deck and railing, sending sparks flying as the bullets ricocheted into the far reaches of the cavern.
Sean took a step back and grabbed the wheel on the hatch. He leaned into it hard and twisted the mechanism, spinning it freely once he'd loosened it. After a few seconds, the wheel stopped, and he tugged the hatch open. The circular hatch provided cover — and not a moment too soon, as the dead man's bloody body fell from the rail to the deck.
The rattling of the enemy guns continued. Sean stayed tucked behind the hatch as the hot rounds plunked harmlessly off the hard steel. He peeked around the edge and loosed a volley at the closest guard. While the HK submachine gun wasn't superaccurate from that range, its volume made up for its lack of precision. Three of the bullets he fired struck the target, one in the gut and two in the chest. He wobbled for a moment before falling over the railing to the dock below.
The other two guards split up in an attempt to flank Sean from either side, hoping to get a clear shooting angle around the hatch. He only had seconds before the guards below took up positions on the other catwalk. Then there would be multiple clear shots. He had to take out the head for the snake's body to die.
Risking a look over the top of the hatch, he removed his Springfield from its holster on his belt and took aim. His sights searched the dock until he found who he was looking for. There was just one problem. His target wasn't playing nice.
Admiral McClain stood in the open next to a stack of wooden crates. He had one arm wrapped around Dr. Ott's neck, while his other hand pressed a Glock to her temple.
"Drop the weapon, Sean, or I will kill her right now."
Sean froze, exposed to the two men on the catwalk and the one below. The second guard on the deck was creeping up the metal stairs to flank the threat from the left side.
"Let her go, McClain." He shouted the order but knew it carried no weight. His opponent had the advantage.
McClain stared through him, unbending. "I'm not going to play the whole count to three thing, Sean. Lower your weapon, or I kill the girl."
"You won't kill her," Sean said, hoping he was right. "You need her alive."
"Sure I do. With her alive, I could probably get this contraption working and sell it for more money. But as is, I still stand to make more than I ever dreamed. Some crackpot out there with billions to throw away will buy it. I'd rather make more money, obviously. You kill me, though, my men will kill her and you."
The man creeping up the stairs had reached his position and took aim at Sean from the flank. Sean knew as soon as he pulled the trigger, that man would fire and take him out. The next bullets would be for Dr. Ott. There was no winning play here. The second Sean lowered his weapon, he would be cut down, but perhaps that would buy Dr. Ott a little more time.
Inch by inch, his hands began to lower his weapon until it was by his waist. His fingers let go of the pistol, and it fell to the deck with clank. "Fine, Admiral. You win."
The older man laughed. "Of course I do. I have the ace in the hole."
Dr. Ott's hand behind her back whipped around and extended toward Sean. She was holding a pistol of her own. McClain released her and took a step to the side. Sean's face contorted in confusion, but he put everything together in seconds.
"We appreciate your help in finding my grandfather's work, Sean," she said, her accent leaning more toward the German than French side of Swiss.
"You were never kidnapped. All of this was just a game to get me to find your grandfather's device. Why? So you can cash in with the admiral, here?"
Emboldened, she took a step forward, still brandishing the weapon menacingly. "My grandfather worked hard on this. Why should I not get paid? He endured torture. Some of his family members were executed. My own father spent years of his life trying to find this. I owe it to myself and my family to reap the rewards of their labor."
Sean snickered, his hands still hanging at his sides. As he laughed, his eyes caught a glimpse of hope. He was standing over the open hatch. It was his only chance for escape. "So because you feel entitled, it's okay for you to kill innocent people? Wolfz? Steiner? How many others?"
"Wolfz was a Nazi like his father, and Steiner was an old man. No one will miss either of them."
"Oh, so you're God now?" Sean's left foot shimmied closer to the hatch's rim a millimeter at a time so that no one would notice.
She laughed at him. "No, Mr. Wyatt. I am not God. But at least now I will have as much money as him. For what it's worth, I appreciate you trying to save me." The dark eyes behind her glasses narrowed, and the fingers on her weapon tensed.
Sean jumped over the lip of the hatch and dropped through the hole just as she fired the pistol. Her weapon's report was joined by others as the rest of the mercenaries opened fire on the now-vacant tower deck.