Karyn Kane: Conspiracy of Fire Part 11

lake."

Jack Senegar drew a breath, his face doubling down on this dangerous news. "The attack, when it comes, will be asymmetrical-likely targets include the national power grid and command and control computer systems." "We got ourselves back up generators Senegar and electronic countermeasures too. Or perhaps the Central Intelligence Agency thinks that the modern Navy still sails around in seven-sheet

schooners?"

"I wouldn't be here if that was the case Bill.

Fact is, our position in the world economy is vulnerable right now. If our enemies subvert our infrastructure, and disrupt the way our great country does business, they will use the vacuum of confusion to sweep in; supersede our political and financial position and relegate our influence as a world power."

"There won't be any relegating the United States of America, not on my watch-let's be clear about that," growled the Admiral. "But I am guessing you got people working on this already, am I right Laddie?"

"As you know, our role is strictly limited by congressional oversight and the laws of the United

States..."

"Screw the congress, Senegar. If I had my way I would horsewhip those bellyaching traitors the length of Pennsylvania Avenue and back again, as a prelude to showing them my true displeasure." Jack Senegar allowed himself the faintest of smiles. The Admiral was a dangerous man, even more dangerous given his idiosyncratic political views. Senegar had no doubt that the Admiral would make good his threats to punish the pampered politicians and lawmakers, if he were given half a chance. But the Admiral was a man of discipline-a great patriot too. His rise to the very pinnacle of The United States Navy had been no accident. Great nation states always seek to divert their strongest and most dangerous lunatics to positions of high office. Looking at the Admiral now, as he sat in his battered leather club chair, Senegar could easily imagine the old coot holding court in the Whitehouse one day. No doubt some would say that Admiral Kane was too old. That he had pa.s.sed the point in life that he could lead the greatest country on earth. But, Jack Senegar knew that wasn't true. Admiral William Arthur Kane or "the Wacker" as he was known in the ranks, was a ruthless, beady-eyed leader, with boundless energy. Never had there been a greater friend or more dangerous enemy to any man and should this stalwart of the seas ever set his sights on Washington, he would inevitably take it by storm, just as his great military and political hero Dwight D. Eisenhower had before him. Jack pursed his lips, thinking for a long time, before saying at last, "I have the girl working on this. You know that don't you?"

"Of course. I can read you like a three frame funny Laddie. How is she?"

"I am worried about her."

"You should be Jack. She has killed a lot of people. That kind of burden takes its toll. No matter how hard the exterior, the psychological fall out is c.u.mulative."

Jack Senegar nodded quietly, the old b.a.s.t.a.r.d talking about his own daughter now, like she was just another a.s.set, a military chattel with a service curve and planned trajectory of obsolescence. "She wanted out. I couldn't let that happen."

"Nonsense Laddie. That little girl of mine loves killing people. If she wasn't doing it for her country, she would probably take it up as a hobby," said the Admiral cheerfully.

"That's my worry."

"You worry too much Jack. The time for concern is the day she comes gunning for you."

"Maybe she'll come for you?"

The Admiral laughed, but it was a laugh without humor. Jack noticed the old man's eyes run lovingly over the Colt 1911 that lay ready on the desk, "Anyone ever comes gunning for me Jack, they will wish they hadn't."

Jack Senegar nodded, "That's what I figured. So I can rely on your support?'"

"Non sibi sed patriae Jack. If I say yes, does that mean we can crack open that bottle of Speyside Single Malt?"

"You got gla.s.ses in that fat desk of yours?"

"I think you know the answer to that one too, don't you Laddie?

24.

The Pacific Holding the heavy caliber automatic with an urgency that showed he knew how to use it, Heung hovered in the gantry doorway. "I will be taking over the ship now Captain, you will obey my orders without question, if you do so you will after a short period of inconvenience be allowed to go about your business."

Captain Pedro alvares, gave Heung an icy look. "I don't know what you are planning to achieve by this kind of foolishness, but the Federal government takes a very dim view indeed of piracy and kidnapping."

There was a loud, explosive pop and a metallic clatter, Heung took a quick glance sideways out the window, seeing that the crew of the Wonsungi had fired a grappling hook across the narrow divide between the two ships and were making ready to board. Heung quickly refocused on the task in hand. "There will be people coming aboard, when they arrive you will avert your eyes. You will say and do nothing. If you obey my commands, you will not be harmed, of that you have my word."

"No matter what they are paying you for this Heung it won't be enough for you to run and hide. Our people will track you to the ends of the earth and when they find you, the inside of a jail cell will be your only pay off."

"Payment? You think I am doing this for money? You have no idea what you are dealing with here do you alvares?"

"d.a.m.n straight. I know treachery when I look it in the eyes Heung. You have been a part of this crew eighteen months at least. We took you in as part of our team, treated you as one of our own and now you turn on us like some kind of mad-dog radical-who the h.e.l.l are you man?" alvares was the last man on his feet now, everyone else including and Kellerman had fallen to their knees, as directed, with their hands on their heads.

Meanwhile, the thin-faced men from the Wonsungi were clambering aboard like monkeys. What was it that Buchanan had said about monkeys? alvares felt a sudden surge of adrenaline amp through him.

Buchanan had vanished. The big-lug had melted away like an ocean spirit, leaving just the faint aroma of Cuban cigars lingering in the air. The pirates were swarming aboard now, all armed with AK-47s and bandoliers of ammunition, along with heavy vests that looked like they contained explosives. Soon they would be in control, and they would be free to kill at their leisure. They would hold the ship for ransom, or perhaps some even darker purpose.

The moment had to be now. If he didn't make his move, the ship would be overwhelmed.

alvares knew that his instincts had been right. His sea senses had warned him of impending calamity, but he had refused to listen. There was no question, the fates were out of alignment and now, only a miracle could intervene to save them.

alvares cursed silently. Only yesterday he had thought himself too old for this game of the sea, and now today, those feelings were confirmed. All those years before the mast, kicking a.s.s with the Navy and the merchant marine, chasing around the world a dozen times or more, following every warzone and calamity before they tore into the news and now, after all these years, his career was going to end like this-disgrace-his command overrun by malnourished radicals, looking to hold the US Government to hostage. This could not be allowed to happen. He could not let it happen. The Nautilus belonged to him, and only him. It was his solemn duty to ensure the integrity of his

command.

The plan formed on the quick euphoria of the moment. If Buchanan was loose, they could join forces, cut down to the L/E locker and break out the weapons: M16s and Remington M870 shotguns. Together they could put up a fight and hold the reputation of their ship against these terrorist hijackers.

It had to be so.

There was no other way.

alvares took a step forward, followed by another.

"On you knees," screamed Heung, waving the heavy caliber automatic wildly in the air. Get on you knees now, or I swear I will kill you."

h.e.l.l, this punk-a.s.s little guy probably never even held a gun in his life before, thought alvares. Heung danced forwards, holding the big automatic high and wild, in his left hand. He looked crazy, maybe even dangerous.

alvares moved fast-big strides-one, two,

three.

The big automatic exploded louder than a cannon, a deafening roar in the grey, metallic confines of the Bridge. The barrel of the gun reared, black and deadly, like a striking cobra.

No time to think, no time to feel, an eternal moment caught in the slipstream of time.

Bullets slicing through the dead air now- flying hot and merciless-cutting away everything before them.

alvares impacted Heung with the force of a NFL linebacker. Using his full weight, together, they smashed into the steel-riveted bulkhead with bone crushing force. alvares fought with the desperate fury of a man twice his size. Grappling close, the captain managed a hard right and a double knee strike to the lower abdomen. He struggled to take control of the gun, but Heung held it high, and as the captain's desperate fingers struggled to grab it, more shots erupted-wild, dangerous, uncontrolled shots, blasting into the roof of the bridge and ricocheting around the confined s.p.a.ce, cutting through everything with white hot intensity.

Up close Heung smelled of cabbage and sweat, masked poorly with a mist of cheap cologne. As alvares pressed in against him, staring into the mad eyes now, he could hear savage grunting breaths as his opponent struggled with the ferocity of a captured snake. Heung whispered, "You are going to die, you are all going to die."

alvares clawed for the big automatic, but his desperate fingers caught only air, as suddenly Heung wriggled free, and the gun arced downwards. More shots, this time cutting downwards, into the floor. The reaction was instantaneous. Captain alvares fell away as though his legs had been cut out from beneath him; then as the furious reverberation of the gunshots mixed with the fearful gasps of the terrified crew. Heung stood triumphant, but unsteady, focusing down on the Captain, who lay sprawled on the floor, blood gouting from an ugly gunshot wound in his upper thigh.

"I tell you to obey-you obey," hissed Heung, his eyes popping wide and deadly. The big automatic was pointing downwards now, wavering unsteadily as Heung mopped at a trickle of blood running out his nose. All of his attention focused on the captain now, Heung didn't notice as Science Officer Sandy Kellerman moved in from his blindside and struck him hard in the temple with the base of a heavy metal fire extinguisher. The effect was dramatic and instantaneous. Kellerman felt his skull crack open, but she couldn't hear it, as her ears were ringing with the furious energy of gunfire. She could see though, watching now, as Heung sagged to his knees, the big black automatic tumbling slowly from his fingers as he sank to his knees, his cue-ball eyes rolling back in their sockets. Kellerman hit him again, and again, bashing him in the side of the face, until he lay motionless on the floor.

Then, standing over him, holding the bloodied fire extinguisher high for another strike, she paused and turned to Captain alvares. He looked a mess. His face desperate as blood pumped out between his rictus fingers.

"Get the h.e.l.l out of here. Get below and stay out of sight," He ordered, his eyes burning into her. "You are bleeding out Captain, you need help and now..."

"You got your d.a.m.n orders Science Officer, see that they are carried out."

Outside the rattle of heavy gunfire resounded, short bursts getting closer all the time. "I cannot leave you Captain.

"You are going to have to. Secure the gun locker, activate the emergency beacon, and find

Buchanan."

"Buchanan?"

"You heard me Kellerman. Now get the h.e.l.l out of here."

25.

Oahu, Hawaii In the starcrossed night outside the Fountainhead Country Club, the police lights strobed blue and red in the darkness. To the many guests leaving the nights event, such a display would no doubt appear quite innocent, a medical emergency perhaps, or a show of ideological support from the uniformed protectors of the new and emergent order.

For Karyn Kane however, watching this display from the periphery of the bustling crowd, the flashing lights and sharp-eyed gazes of attendant shock troops, sent quite a different message. After the meet with Deng Tao, Karyn sensed, that a dangerous sub-game was in play. The frightening euphoria of the Deng Tao crowd had proven beyond doubt that a nascent power block, more dangerous than anything seen since the dark days of the 1930's, was moving into place, so that it might seize the world stage. But this new movement went beyond the ambitions of the old political orders-it transcended them-replacing their dark edicts with the madness of a new utopia. To Karyn, this new philosophy made no sense. On the flipside of every utopian dream there is a dystopian reality, borne out in the tragedy of murder, oppression and war. Threat level nine- Jack Senegar's words reverberated through her head-an immediate threat to the security of the United States of America.

Scoping the exit of the country club, Karyn was in no doubt-the police were ready; the willing shock troops of the new and emergent order and they were waiting for her. No doubt they would pull her aside. They would be very business-like, even polite at first. They would ask her to come with them, make like she had a choice in the matter. They would keep up their public service pretensions, until the takedown had been made. Then, when they had her, far from the public gaze, the turnaround would come. The service sector charm would disappear, replaced instead by the cold, machine-like world of nightstick justice. There was a myth, that such things no longer happened, that in a democratic and freethinking society there was no place for such wild injustices. Karyn knew this was a lie. She knew it first hand. She knew also, that in the runaway world of The Agency anything could happen, whether Congress sanctioned it or not.

Better turn to the shadows; move back into the clandestine world, where the blunt edged logic of cop thinking would struggle to find her. Karyn melted back into the crowd, retracing her steps into the dark interior of the club. She looked into her handbag now, as though she had absent mindedly left something of importance behind-a cell phone, a make up case, or a set of missing keys- something that had fallen unseen from her purse during the great speech of Deng Tao perhaps? Karyn faked the body language quite easily. She moved like a short-con professional, changing through the gears of subterfuge with practiced ease.

As she moved backwards into the clattering depths of the great hall, Karyn's mind ran through her earlier recon mission, pulling up a mental image of every potential exit, and running odds on which would be the most useful. Almost on autopilot now, she upped her speed, moving fast through the swing-service kitchen doors and into a steaming, clattering world of stainless steel and china. The kitchen crew, were hard at work, busying themselves with a gargantuan cleanup operation. It would be hours before they would be through. No doubt they would still be toiling at the steaming industrial sinks, when morning came, blissfully unaware, just how the world was changing, with the new rising day.

Karyn moved forward, with ever-greater urgency, not quite running yet, but knowing as she moved through the dark belly of the beast, that the calls of discovery would come at any minute now. No doubt the shock troops imagined they had her hemmed in. There was after all only one road out. No doubt they would have a pinch-point roadblock set up down the mountain by now, primed to catch her should she attempt to slip through their perimeter.

As Karyn moved out back, security lights illuminated the rear lot with an eerie yellow light that projected long, fearful shadows over the hard ground. The BMW she had taken from Kibishi was compromised no question. She couldn't use it again. It had been a mistake to bring the Beemer out here in the first place. It probably had a tracker-a signal beacon that had zeroed in every cop on the island. Well, they might have the car, but they would never get her. The locals were playing a major-league game now, with little league players. If they wanted to play hardball with the Agency, they would have to do better than run a time out huddle in the parking lot.