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“What about the bombs? I want to scuttle all three ships as soon as the Oregon’s back is broken.”
“They’ve all been set and are ready to receive the detonation command.” He handed her the remote detonator.
“Excellent work, Captain,” she said. “You’ll have a high place in my government when I’m president.”
As the Maydays continued, she wasn’t worried about any authorities coming to the rescue. Haiti had a token Coast Guard and no Navy, so the best they could do was send out a police launch or ask for help from the Dominican Republic. She and her men would be long gone before either could mobilize.
The second Klub darted toward the Oregon and she was sure this one would make it through, but the missile exploded off its stern in a hail of defensive gunfire, showering the ship with debris. Flames cascaded across the deck and this time she was satisfied they were the real thing, not the fakery she’d seen off the coast of Puerto La Cruz.
The only disappointment was that Cabrillo didn’t know who was about to sink his beloved ship. But she’d know and that’s all that mattered.
Time to end this.
She radioed down to launch control. “Fire the third missile.”
—
“The last one took out Metal Storm,” Max said. “Only the two Gatlings left.”
“I’m going to angle us so both of them have a shot at the next missile,” Juan said, turning the Oregon toward Île de la Gonâve. “How are you doing, Maria?”
“I’ve got Captain Garcia on his sat phone,” she said in triumph. “He’s very upset. What should I ask him?”
“Can he get in touch with the Maracaibo’s captain, but not over the radio?”
She relayed the question. “Yes, he also has a sat phone.”
“Good. Tell them to come to a full stop, and get me their exact GPS coordinates—and I mean down to the inch. And ask them if there are any other ships in the area.” She looked confused by the request but asked Garcia anyway.
Juan turned to Max. “Get ready to plug them into the Exocet guidance computer.”
Max furrowed his brow then nodded in understanding. “Tell it what not to hit?”
“Right.” Juan checked the map and saw that the drones and Air Force Two were near to converging. “Murph, what’s your status with the drones? We’ve only got five minutes left.”
“Almost got it. I have to do this right the first time or Kensit will lock me out permanently.”
“All right. Keep on it.”
“I’ve got the coordinates!” Maria yelled, and told them to Max, who plugged them into the guidance computer.
“Missile three sighted!” Linda called out. “Two minutes to target.”
“Ready on the Exocet!”
“Fire!”
The Exocet was ejected from its tube and its turbojet kicked in, sending the antiship missile skimming across the water. Its radar altimeter kept it a mere ten feet above the surface.
“The Klub is one minute out,” Linda said.
“Max, try to get the missile in a cross fire with the Gatlings. It’s our only chance.”
An industrial-scale ripping sound echoed from two sides of the ship as the Gatlings spewed tungsten rounds at the approaching missile. The tracer streams danced as the missile bobbed and weaved to avoid the shells. But twenty seconds of uninterrupted fire eventually found its target and the missile erupted in an orange torrent of flame.
“Phew,” Max said as he pointedly wiped his brow. “Gun two is down to thirty rounds left in the drum. I doubt we can take down another missile.”
“Time to target on the Exocet?”
