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She waited as the chopper took off, her rifle at the ready.
* * *
—
Raven and MacD were waiting on either side of the bridge, lying below the windows until they heard the helicopter lifting off the pad. Raven nodded at MacD, and she shoved open the door on the portside bridge wing while MacD opened the door on the starboard side.
She took aim at the ascending chopper. Raven’s target was the engine w
hile MacD was shooting for the pilot. She unloaded her magazine on full auto. She must have hit something vital because the turbine started coughing black smoke. Either MacD hit his target or the pilot just wasn’t as good as Gomez because the helicopter spun, out of control, toward the jagged slope nearest to the Deepwater. It slammed into the island sideways, and a rocket pod exploded, ripping the copter to shreds. Pieces tumbled down to the water below.
Raven dove to the deck, bullets pinging against the bulkhead above her. She didn’t engage the four people in combat gear on the helicopter pad, who were now firing weapons in the direction of the bridge. They were Linda Ross’s responsibility.
* * *
—
Linda was surprised to find that the only people on board the Deepwater who’d ever fired an assault rifle before were Captain Jefferson, a Navy vet, and Amelia Vargas, who used to be in the Chilean Coast Guard. She gave each of them a weapon and sketched out a plan, with the help of Raven and MacD, to repel boarders.
They’d kept a lookout until they saw the MD 520N approaching with rockets and machine guns. That necessitated a quick revision to the plan, with Raven and MacD taking out the helicopter after it took off.
Linda, Jefferson, and Vargas, meanwhile, readied themselves to pop up from the emergency stairs at the bow since the focus of anyone on the pad would be Raven and MacD, shooting from the shelter of the solid bridge wing railings.
Linda had no intent on fighting fairly, not when it was clear that Tate would likely murder all of them.
When she heard the gunfire, Linda waved her hand forward, and the women went up the stairs until they saw four people in combat gear on the pad.
Catherine Ballard was the leader, so Linda took her down first with a single round. Jefferson and Vargas each shot one of the other men. Linda hit the last man, center mass, in the back, and he flopped to the deck. The entire assault took less than two seconds.
“Stay here and cover me,” she said to Jefferson and Vargas, both of whom looked wired but in control.
They nodded, and Linda crept forward, her rifle at the ready.
She got to the four attackers and saw that two of the men were dead from headshots. Both Jefferson and Vargas had good aim.
Catherine Ballard was lying on her back and bleeding from a severe neck wound.
Linda shook her head in disgust. “You’re going to die a traitor to your country.”
Ballard smiled up at Linda with scarlet teeth.
“And your captain is a dead man. Your ship is . . .” Her voice trailed off.
Linda leaned down and grabbed her vest. “What about my ship? Tell me!”
Ballard didn’t answer. She sputtered blood from her lips before wheezing her last.
The final man was lying facedown. Linda flipped him over with her foot, her finger on the trigger.
He was an Asian man, grimacing in pain.
“Move and you die,” she said with the barrel of her rifle in his face.
She nodded for Jefferson and Vargas to join her.
“Cover him.”
While they did, Linda kicked away his rifle, removed his sidearm, and searched him. He didn’t have any other weapons. Her shot in his back had been stopped by body armor.
