"Leave them," Vance roared. "The patrol boat will pick them up. It'll help delay them."
The helmsman's eyes were darting around, taking in the wind readings on the weather radar. He pointed toward the Karadeniz. "The only way out of this storm is toward them."
"No. We can't go that way," Vance shouted.
Tess watched the Karadeniz inch closer and turned to Vance. "Please, Bill. It's over. They have us surrounded, and, if we don't get out of here now, the storm's going to kill us all."
Vance flashed her a silencing glare, then shot anxious glances out the windshield and down at the weather radar. His eyes turned to ice. "South," he barked to the helmsman. "Take us south."
The helmsman's eyes rocketed wide, as if he'd been punched in the gut. "South? That's right into the storm," he countered. "You're insane."
Vance shoved his gun into the face of the hesitating man and, without warning, squeezed the trigger, nudging the gun slightly off to one side just as it erupted. The bullet just missed the helmsman and smashed into a bulkhead behind him. Vance shot a quick, threatening glance at the others on the bridge before shoving his handgun back into the shell-shocked man's face. "You can take your chances with the waves ... or with a bullet. It's your call."
The helmsman just stared back at him for a moment, flicked a quick eye over his instruments,
then spun the wheel and pushed forward on the throttles. The boat churned ahead, leaving the divers floundering helplessly in its wake, and plunged head-on into the wrath of the storm.
It was only when Vance finally took his eyes off the helmsman that he noticed Tess was gone.
Chapter 77
On the bridge of the Karadeniz, De Angelis stared through the Fu-jinon marine binoculars in furious disbelief.
"They've got it," he said through clenched teeth. "I don't believe it. They've managed to bring it up."
Reilly had also spotted it, and a ripple of concern raced down his spine. So it was all true after all.
There it was, plucked out of the abyss after hundreds of years by one man's unwavering tenacity.
Tess. What have you done?
And with a reeling horror, he knew De Angelis would stop at nothing now.
The first officer, standing next to them, also had his eyes peeled on the dive boat but had other concerns. "They're heading south. They're abandoning the divers."
As soon as he heard that, Karakas began snapping orders. Instantly, a siren blasted, followed by rapid-fire commands over the gunboat's loudspeakers. Divers began suiting up immediately, while out on deck, crewmen hastily readied one of the patrol boat's inflatable craft.
De Angelis watched the frenzied activity with utter disbelief. "Forget the damn divers," he barked, pointing frantically at the Savarona. "They're getting away. We need to stop them."
"We can't leave them here," Karakas shot back, the scorn in his eyes barely disguised. "Besides, that ship will never make it through this storm. The waves are too big. We need to get out of here as soon as we've recovered the divers."
"No," the monsignor snapped back firmly. "Even if there's just one chance in a million that they'll make it out in one piece, we can't allow it to happen." He stared sharply out the windshield, then turned back to face the stocky captain, his eyes gleaming with menace. "Sink them."
Reilly couldn't stand back any longer. He lunged at De Angelis, grabbing him and spinning him around heavily to face him. "You can't do that, there's no—"
He stopped in his tracks.
The monsignor had pulled out a big automatic and shoved its muzzle into Reilly's face. "Stay out of this," he shouted, nudging Reilly back toward the rear of the cockpit.
Reilly stared beyond the cold steel barrel hovering millimeters from him and into De Angelis's eyes.
They blazed with murderous fury.
"You're outlived your purpose here," the monsignor rasped. "Do you understand me?"
There was such implacability in De Angelis's expression that Reilly believed he would pull the trigger without the slightest hesitation. He also knew that if he made a move on him, he would be dead long before he even reached him.
He nodded and eased back, steadying himself against the motion of the boat. "Easy, now," he said calmly. "Easy."
De Angelis kept his eyes locked firmly on Reilly. "Use the cannon," he ordered the skipper. "Before they get out of range."
Reilly could tell that Karakas was hugely uncomfortable with what was taking place on his ship.
"We're in international waters," he objected, "and if that's not enough for you, that's a Greek ship we're talking about. We already have enough trouble with—"
"—I don't care," De Angelis raged, turning to face Karakas and waving his handgun furiously.
"This ship is operating under NATO command and, as the ranking officer, I'm giving you a direct order, Captain—"
This time, it was Karakas who interrupted. "No," he stated flatly, staring down De Angelis.
"I'll take my chances with a military tribunal."
The two men squared off for a tense moment, the monsignor's right arm fully extended, his handgun squarely in the captain's face. To Karakas's credit, he didn't flinch. He just stood his ground until the monsignor thrust him aside, turned to Plunkett, and ordered him to watch them and charged for the door to the gangway. "The hell with you," he seethed. "I'll do it myself."
Plunkett moved into position, pulling out his own holstered handgun as the monsignor slid the door open. The gale-force wind blasted into the bridge. De Angelis steeled himself and stepped out into the raging storm.
Reilly darted an incredulous glance at Karakas just as a big wave slammed into the cutter broadside, rocking the bridge and forcing everyone on it to grab a handhold. Reilly saw the opportunity and took it. He bolted at Plunkett, getting to him just as the CIA operative was reaching out to steady himself against the console beside him. Reilly managed to block the hand that held the gun against the counter, while delivering a jarring uppercut that loosened Plunkett's grip enough for Reilly to wrangle the gun off him. Plunkett came back with a furious, wild swing, but Reilly blocked it and, without hesitating, swung the handgun at the killer, connecting with a savage blow across his forehead. Plunkett slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Reilly tucked the handgun under his belt, stepped past the captain, grabbed a life vest and frantically strapped it on, and followed De Angelis out.
The wind pounded him immediately, slamming him back against the pilothouse's wall like a rag doll. Reilly steadied himself and, pulling himself along the railing hand over hand, spotted the rain-lashed silhouette of the monsignor inching his way forward along the bulwark and heading inexorably for the foredeck, where the automatic cannon was mounted.
Shielding his eyes as he advanced, he glanced beyond the bow and glimpsed the Savarona. It was lurching heavily, only a couple of hundred yards away now but separated from the patrol boat by a mountainous sea.
Reilly suddenly froze. On the deck below the diving ship's wheel-house, a small figure appeared to be moving, battered by torrents of water, clinging desperately to the rigging.
He felt the air leave his lungs. He was sure it was Tess.
***
Tess hastened down the companionway, her thoughts a blur and her heartbeat throbbing deafeningly in her ears. She scanned the walls, desperately trying to remember where she'd seen the ax.
She finally found it, mounted on a bulkhead just outside the galley. Within seconds, she'd also found a life jacket and strapped it on. Sucking in a deep breath and rallying herself for what she was about to do, she yanked open the watertight door, stepped over the coaming, and threw herself into the fury that was raging outside.