McKenzie sat at a console and ran his finger over an electric motor’s control knob.
“Hey, the plant manual says you’re not allowed to touch that. You’re a mechanic.”
McKenzie laughed. It was nervous laughter but it calmed him
“Don’t worry, Scotty,” Jake said. “We’re in control.”
“I will speak to Slate while your men approach — distract him,” Renard said.
He dialed a sound-powered circuit and heard Jake’s startled voice.
“Yeah?” Jake asked.
“Pierre here, the friend you once knew before you went insane,” Renard said.
“You were never a friend, and you know I’m sane.”
“My mistake. I must have taken our friendship for granted. Since you’re alive, I will assume that you’ve killed three men.”
“Damn it, Pierre, Mister Panther freaked out. The guy just lost it. I barely saved myself trying to help him. Then his buddies went nuts and killed my guys. What did you expect me to do?”
“So it’s two of you against four of us?”
“If you’ve chosen to play on the losing team. You cold yet?”
Renard studied Kao, who looked unconscious. He then spoke in basic French.
“I’m with you, mon ami. Two men are hunting you with knives. They left thirty seconds ago.”
“I was hoping you would make the right choice,” Jake said, “mon ami.”
Jake slammed the phone into its cradle.
“Scotty, change of plans. Put on your OBA. Renard’s with us. He says there’s two commandos coming with knives.”
“What do we do?”
“Shift to new oxygen canisters and get weapons from the aft small arms locker. We’ll ambush them in the missile compartment.”
“It’s pitch black in there,” McKenzie said.
“That’s the point. They’ll be blind and moving slow, but we’ll have the imager. We’ll wait under the missile compartment hatches. You get a shotgun, and I’ll take a pistol. When they get close, I’ll guide your shotgun and tap you. Then you pump out rounds. You’ll be too close to miss.”
“What if they have one of the other imagers?”
“Did you ever tell them about our imagers?”
“No.”
“Neither did I.”
Standing between electric towers in the missile compartment, Jake held the imager to his face. He felt a nine-millimeter pistol under his sneaker, and beside him McKenzie knelt with a shotgun.
Panning the imager, Jake studied the port corridor through the missile compartment upper level. Then the starboard corridor, then down the ladder to the deck below.
Each time he panned the approaches, he expected to see the image of a commando hurling a knife at his heart. He swallowed.
From the deck below, a bluish-white figure groped for a staircase handrail. Bright white, caused by the exothermic reaction of the commando’s oxygen breathing canister, burned in the figure’s belly. A smaller second figure limped behind the first. Long blades, extensions of cold cobalt through the imager, rose from each man’s hand.
Jake held his breath as the men ascended. Reaching for the barrel of McKenzie’s shotgun, the white form of his hand extended in front of his imager. He pointed the barrel at the top of the stairs and waited while McKenzie steadied the gun.
Renard studied the dying commando.
“Sergeant Kao?” he asked.
Kao peered through caked blood.
“Renard, when you spoke French to Slate, you were hiding something.”
Renard feared that Cheetah and Jaguar would kill him if they defeated Jake and learned that he had betrayed them. He feigned allegiance.
“I’m sure your defense minister assured you of my loyalty. My God, I took a bullet through my back trying to help your nation.”
Kao grabbed Renard’s arm with a strength impossible for a dying man.
“I do not care which side you have chosen,” Kao said. “No matter who wins this battle, you will survive. I have ordered my men to spare you. It is you who must see that the warheads are delivered.”
Through the imager, Jake double-checked McKenzie’s shotgun. It pointed at the burning white image of Jaguar’s chest plate. He lowered the imager to his feet, grabbed his pistol, and tapped McKenzie three times on the back.
McKenzie’s shotgun exploded, clicked, and exploded again as the mechanic pumped the reload chamber and fired. Six shots rang out. The confined echoes hurt Jake’s ears.
Jake reached for his imager and studied the carnage. He grabbed his pistol but didn’t need it. McKenzie had gutted Jaguar through his chest plate. Cheetah had no head, and the heat rising from the blood spurting from his neck made a milky white pool on the cold steel deck plates.
Jake led McKenzie back to maneuvering’s pressurized atmosphere, removed his facemask and grabbed the microphone.
“Gentlemen, there are two of you left. You’ll both die if you resist. Contact me in maneuvering to discuss your surrender.”
“It’s over,” Renard said, “Kao is either unconscious or dead. For his sake, I pray it’s the latter.”
CHAPTER 31
With the fuel and oxygen spent, the fire had died, and Jake walked through the ring of ashes that had once been the missile compartment’s lagging insulation. He lowered the imager and entered the forward compartment with a nine-millimeter pistol in hand.
Alone, he closed the watertight door, removed his facemask, and unhooked the OBA system. He let it fall from his chest to the ground and rubbed sweat from his face.
Following his pistol barrel, he crept toward the wardroom and stopped at the door.
Let’s try a little test, he thought.
He removed the clip from his nine-millimeter and popped bullets one by one into his pocket. He slammed the empty clip back into the weapon and pushed open the door.
His face glistening with perspiration, Renard sat in the captain’s chair. He flicked open his gold-plated Zippo lighter under a fresh Marlboro.
“And what now, Jake?”
“We need to get this ship up and running again.”
“What about him?”
Kao’s wound had swollen his eye shut. Blood caked the lid and dripped into the puddle in which his face lay. Jake felt a weak pulse at Kao’s neck and plopped the empty pistol before Renard. The Frenchman lifted it and seemed to measure its weight.
“He’s still alive,” Jake said. “Do him a favor.”
“I will not,” Renard said and returned the pistol.
Jake pulled back the slide, retrieved a bullet from his pocket, and dropped it in the chamber. He let the spring slam the slide forward.
“It was unloaded? You bastard!” Renard said.
“Needed to be sure you wouldn’t use it on me.”
The Frenchman’s face flushed. He stood and trembled.
“You’ve been loathe to consider me an ally since the moment we met. I’ve protected you, I’ve guided you, I’ve trusted you, and I’ve freed you! When will you stop testing me?”
“I’m satisfied now. I trust you.”
“Yes? No more strip searches, no more threats, no more tricks to test me?”
Jake extended his hand.
Renard blew smoke.
“Perhaps you should consider that my patience has worn thin awaiting your trust,” Renard said. “I will not tolerate any more doubt.”
“Fine.”
Renard accepted Jake’s hand.
“Good then,” Renard said.
The Frenchman inhaled from his cigarette and blew several puffs. The flush fell from his cheeks.
“Well, go ahead, mon ami,” Renard said.
Jake pressed the barrel against Kao’s head. He curled his finger inward but hesitated.