Allah would see to it. Wyatt Earp would not get his man.
Or was that a Canadian myth? It was of no moment. Badr thought of the Canadians as American clones.
The Sea Spectre was less than a kilometer from the docks when Heusseini said, “We are ready, Colonel.”
“Commence firing.”
It was a beautiful rhythm. One ignition after another. The third missile was airborne by the time the first impacted somewhere inland. Heusseini selected his targets at random. Large buildings, ships at the docks, warehouses.
As soon as the fourth was launched, Badr slammed the throttles forward, ran toward the Roads, then slowed once again.
Three minutes.
Three and a half.
Fo…
“Missiles ready,” Rahman reported. “Bay clear.”
WHOOSH!
Then another.
Then the seventh and eighth missiles.
Even through the insulated skin of the Sea Spectre, Badr could hear the sirens wailing. They were that close to shore. Fires were spotted all over the base, growing in intensity. The morning became artificially light.
A missile struck what Badr thought was a cruiser in a dry dock, possibly rupturing fuel tanks. Yellow flame poured over the hull like fiery molasses.
“Missiles ready. Bay clear.”
Badr had swung the helm eastward as they reached the middle of the James River. They were now two kilometers offshore from the naval base, three kilometers west of the Hampton Bridge.
Four more missiles whisked away.
Half a dozen naval boats and ships were underway, nosing out into the river, aiming in their general direction. Searchlights scanned the waters.
“Load four more,” Badr commanded.
To their credit, no one complained about the change in plans. They were totally involved in the operation.
He raced forward at forty knots for three minutes, then slowed once again. The pursuing ships did not alter course to follow him.
“Omar, you must put one of them in the city proper, one on the bridge, and two to the north, aiming for Langley Air Base.”
“Allah willing,” Heusseini said.
“He does,” Badr affirmed.
They had nearly reached the bridge by the time missiles thirteen through sixteen had been loaded.
Heusseini launched them quickly, and Badr watched his repeater screen as if he were mesmerized.
A multistory building with lights in some of the windows, perhaps a sign saying some kind of insurance.
The bridge. A semi-truck trailed by two small automobiles. The truck became immense on the screen until it blacked out. He glanced up through the windshield just as the missile erupted, spewing metal, asphalt roadbed, pieces of driver, and structural beams in magnificent confusion. Red and orange and blue flames squirted skyward.
The air base. The missile homed in on a row of parked F-15 Eagles. Blackness. Badr wished he could have seen the actual explosion.
More parked aircraft seen from the camera of the fourth missile, but Heusseini veered from them and centered the missile on the control tower.
Blackness.
American might defenseless against a single boat.
The American ship sinking into oblivion.
While Ibrahim Badr felt his spirit rising against that Satan.
Rising, rising, to grasp the hand of the Prophet.
Chapter 14
McCory thought that the radio messages rattling from the overhead speaker finally changed Monahan’s mind.
He had been as stoic as they come for the past seven hours. He was trussed hand and foot on one of the benches of the banquette, the tail end of the rope wrapped around the table support. McCory wasn’t taking any chances with the Navy man. He looked competent enough to foul up anyone’s plans.
It had been a tense few minutes with Mimi Kuntzman.
She had tapped Camrose’s reverse lever momentarily to stop her forward progress and eased in against the side dock, nosed up behind the SeaGhost.
“What in the world is that?”
“Experimental, Mimi. Don’t tell anyone, huh?”
“You know me, Kevin.”
He did. She would hang onto the secret for at least ten or twelve hours.
McCory looked to the officer sitting beside Mimi. The silver oak leaves on his lapel made him a commander. He was peering through the windshield at the assault boat, and he may have been surprised to see it. McCory couldn’t tell in the vague twilight.
“Who are you, Commander?”
His eyes left the boat reluctantly, and he looked up at McCory. “The name’s Monahan. Jim.”
“Come on up here, Jim.”
“Well, uh… ”
“Now.”
Monahan eyed the handle of the automatic sticking out of McCory’s waistband. He clambered over the seat into the back of the boat and stepped up on the gunwale.
McCory offered him a hand. The commander looked at it for a long moment, then grasped it, and McCory pulled him up onto the dock.
“Thanks, Mimi. I’ll see that he gets back.”
“Okey doke. We’re having dinner next week, remember.”
“I won’t forget.”
“And no last-minute excuses.”
She pulled the lever into reverse and backed out of the dry dock. Seconds later, she was gone.
McCory turned to the commander who was once again staring at the SeaGhost.
“What do you do, Commander?”
The man laughed, but it sounded as if he had grit in his throat. “For the last nine days, I’ve been looking for that boat. Where’s the other one, McCory?”
“Got me. I think the guys I ran over took it.”
Monahan stood there shaking his head, pondering it.
“Come on, get aboard.”
His eyes widened in disbelief. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Sure you are. You can walk, or I can drag you.” McCory tapped the handle of the automatic.
“You wouldn’t use that.”
“Yesterday, I’d have said the same thing. Go.”
Monahan walked toward the hatch and disappeared inside.
McCory released the spring lines, then followed him. He released one of the coiled lines in the cross-corridor from its Velcro strap and carried it with him.
He found Monahan in the cargo bay, and the commander had pulled the tarp back from the bodies. When he looked up at McCory, there was tension pulling the skin of his face tight. His eyes had a new look to them, and McCory didn’t think it was respect.
Monahan dropped the tarp back in place and stood up. “Who are they?”
“The big guy worked for Advanced Marine. Wet work, I guess you’d call it. I don’t know about the other one, but as a guess, I’d say he’s a Warrior of Allah. Retired, now.”
“What in the fuck is going on here?”
“I’ll tell you something, Commander Jim. I’ve wondered the same thing.”
“You’ve got missiles loaded.” Monahan appeared to have just noticed the collapsed launcher.
“Yeah, I do. But take a count, Monahan. You’ll find only one of them missing. Let’s go forward and find you a comfortable spot.”
McCory used a few varieties of the knots his father had taught him to secure Monahan in the banquette. He had considered leaving him behind, but sure as hell, Ginger would show up and free him.
He needed as many hours as he could get.
It was still twilight when he backed out of the dry dock and crossed the waterway. The SeaGhost whispered up the far side of the waterway, past Edgewater and New Smyrna, then through Ponce de Leon Inlet without attracting attention, and as soon as they were clear, McCory shoved the throttles to their forward detents and set the autopilot.