you go?”
Jamie belted out, “Roger, sir.”
“LB?”
“Good to go.”
“All right. Before they load up another rocket, we got to move forward.”
Wally peeled off his helmet and goggles. LB strapped them on. He dropped the NVGs over his eyes to look toward the stern. Forty yards ahead, two pirates jutted out their heads and Kalashnikovs. Jamie fired a few potshots to keep them out of the corridor.
LB took a pair of flashbang canisters from Jamie.
“Are they bunched up?”
Jamie nodded. “Yeah. They’re taking turns shooting at us. They’re ducked in that alley under the crane. Reloading, cover me.” LB brought the Zastava to bear while Jamie replaced his spent magazine with a fresh one.
The passageway was too narrow to try flinging a pair of flashbangs all the way to the pirates. If LB hit a pillar or threw the wrong distance, they’d be wasted, and they had only two.
He leaned in close to Jamie. “I’ll crawl as far as I can. You keep their heads down. After I get in range, you get ready to run. When they blow, you and me take ’em.”
Jamie rattled his head without looking at LB.
“No. I go. I’m wearing armor.”
“And I spent ten years crawling though jungles. You got a bum leg, and you’re a better shot than me.”
“You got a bum leg, too.”
“Shut up. Cover my ass and come when I call.”
LB rapped a fist on Jamie’s shoulder to seal his words, and to tell the boy he was a damn fine man.
“Juggler. We’re ready.”
Wally hailed Doc on the radio.
Doc answered. “Go.”
“We’re going to move on the pirates between us and you. It’s oh–one forty. Listen to me. If we’re not standing next to you by oh–one fifty-five, you assault the bridge. Be sure to call the PRCC the second you secure it.”
“Roger.”
“We’ll take out as many targets as we can. You may have to clean up after us.”
“Wally, Jesus.”
“Press the mission.”
“Roger.”
LB lifted the NVGs to get a clear look at Wally. The wan light and Wally’s dozen wounds drained his color. His bare head was tousled, unlike him. The M4 seemed weighty in his hands. Wally’s eyes carried the fight.
LB grinned. “You’re such an asshole.”
“At least that’s not my call sign.”
“Fair point. See you in a few.”
“Roger.”
LB clicked the NVGs into place. He put his belly to the cool deck, the Zastava across his back. In each hand he gripped a canister. He wriggled forward. Moonlight washed the empty corridor.
He scrabbled ten feet, calf aching. One pirate held out the branch of a hand and a Kalashnikov without exposing his head, to squeeze off another loud, blazing burst. Bullets whizzed over LB, bouncing off the metal wall and ceiling, green tracers in the goggles. Jamie returned fire, striking emerald sparks inches from the Somali’s wrist. The pirate reeled the gun back in.
LB hailed on the radio, “All good?”
Jamie answered, “Other leg. Damn it.”
LB made up his mind. They couldn’t stand another RPG blast, or more wild bullets. The next volley from an AK could finish one or all of them any second.
He’d gotten a good look at the location and distance of the pirates. He squirmed as fast as he could ten more yards. The slice in his calf stabbed at him.
“Jamie.”
“Go.”
“Can you do it?”
“I dunno. I’m pretty cut up.”
“All right. Stay back. I got this. Juggler, watch our six.”
“Will do.”
LB lifted the NVGs to get better depth perception. He had to toss them straight down the middle of the narrow corridor.
If the flashbangs were on target, the four pirates would be blinded and stunned. If not, LB was about to rush into four Kalashnikovs by himself. He wasn’t sure he could do this alone. He was certain only that he had to.
He’d done dangerous things before. He would’ve liked a moment to pause and rank this one. Somewhere near the top.
One lesson LB had learned from every cliffhanger moment in his life, this one, too: don’t hesitate.
He curled a finger inside the primary pin on the first canister.
“On my mark.”
The VHF screeched.
“Break, break! Hold!”
Who was this on the team freq? LB’s hearing, still stuffed by the RPG, stopped him from recognizing the voice that urged, “LB, where are you?”
“Twenty yards from the pirates, toward the bow. Who is this?”
“Robey. Stay low, all of you. Close your eyes. Now.”
Robey! What was he doing here? He was in the RAMZ. With no time for questions, LB crammed his face into the crook of his arm.
Ahead, the tinny sound of rolling metal squealed down the corridor floor.