Scorpion Strike. John Gilstrap

more than just you and Gunslinger?” Dom asked.

      “Affirmative. We’ve joined up with two other guests and two guys who work here.”

      “That makes six,” Boxers said softly. Venice thought maybe he was thinking out loud. “Better than only two.”

      “That’s another reason to board the ship,” Jonathan said. “Between the two of us, we’ve got two rifles, two handguns, and barely a hundred rounds of ammo. I’m hoping they’ll have a weapons locker on board.”

      “If they do, I believe that’s where you’ll find their security contingent,” Boxers said.

      “I believe you’re right. Mother Hen, how are you coming on those deck plans?”

      A set of drawings appeared on the screen. “I have some,” Venice said, “but I have to tell you that there seems to be a lot of variation on what’s where. That model ship is old enough that it’s likely been reconfigured.”

      “It’ll be what it is,” Jonathan said.

      An idea smacked Venice out of nowhere. “I think I might have a plan. Does Gunslinger have a phone, too?”

      “Yes, but we’ve turned it off to conserve on battery.”

      “Okay, turn her phone on and hang up.”

      “That’s a plan?” Jonathan said.

      “Yes, it is,” Venice said. “I’ll call you back as a conference call. We’ll all come along as you board the ship. If you end up at a dead end or something, maybe I’ll be able to talk you out of it or around it.”

      The line went dead.

      “You really think that will work?” Dom asked as Venice waited to redial.

      “Sure. I mean, I don’t see how—”

      “This is bullshit,” Boxers proclaimed, and he shot out of his chair. He headed for the door.

      “Where are you going?” Venice asked, startled.

      “I’m going to rescue them myself,” he said.

      “How?” Dom asked.

      “I’ll raise my own goddamn army,” he said.

      CHAPTER 9

      GAIL SETTLED HER BLUETOOTH RECEIVER INTO HER EAR AND POWERED up her phone. “This is bizarre,” she said as she waited for the phone to boot up. “Surreal.” They’d discussed the rules of engagement, such as they were, and they could not have been simpler. If challenged, shoot. If spotted by a stranger with a gun, shoot. Then, gather weapons and ammo as you go along. When she’d agreed to rejoin the covert side of Security Solutions, with many months of physical and psychological therapy in her rearview mirror, she hadn’t imagined that she’d be knee-deep in a tactical situation so soon. She’d certainly never considered that it would be run by conference call with not nearly enough equipment.

      Gail and Jonathan had been watching the ship for over ten minutes, and had yet to see any activity. A gangplank led from the pier to a spot amidships, and in the glaring lights, she could see the markings and logo of the Crystal Sands Resort on the canvas strips under the gangplank’s handrails. It appeared to be the very one by which they had disembarked from the resort ship barely thirty-six hours before.

      “I don’t believe for a minute that they left this unguarded,” Gail said.

      “That’s what we have to assume,” Jonathan agreed. “Maybe they figured that by focusing their manpower on wrangling guests, they wouldn’t have to worry about guarding the ship.”

      Gail’s phone buzzed first. She answered, and then ten seconds later, Jonathan’s buzzed.

      “Are we all on?” Venice’s voice asked.

      Jonathan and Gail confirmed in unison. “Are you up for a run?” he asked her.

      The truthful answer was that she had her doubts, but this was not a time to express them. This was the time to take her physical therapy final exam. “We’ll all find out together,” she said. “I’ll do my best to keep up.”

      “All right, then, let’s do this. Remember to zigzag.” It was at once one of Jonathan’s most annoying and endearing traits that he always felt the need to explain the obvious.

      With this much ambient light, thanks to the massive floods that illuminated the pier, speed meant more than stealth. Even for an experienced shooter, a running person was a hard target to hit, especially when the person ran an unpredictable course. Throw in the fact that whoever the sentries might be, they would be startled to see that they had company, and a snap shot was even harder to make.

      Of course, there was always the dumb-luck factor that made Jonathan’s world more interesting than he often preferred it to be.

      “Okay,” Jonathan said. “Three, two, one . . .”

      Jonathan bolted out into the open, digging in hard as he sprinted down the pier and slid to a stop at the base of the gangplank. Gail took off a second later. The legs felt strong, even though the hips were stiff. Nothing too bad. She could do this. With her M4 pressed into her shoulder and the safety off, she scanned mostly behind as they ran. She trusted Digger to take out the targets along the rails of the ship and what they could see of the superstructure, while she looked for targets that might sneak up from the rear. Nothing yet.

      She slid into place at the base of the gangway only three or four seconds behind Digger. Good lord, she wanted some form of cover. She felt so open out here in the bright light.

      “Howya doin’, kid?” Jonathan asked. “I’m clear.”

      “I’m clear, too. So far, so good.”

      Jonathan said, “We’re going up the gangplank now,” and then she heard the electronic version through her earpiece half a second later. She knew this information to be for Venice back in Virginia.

      “Three, two . . .”

      Jonathan moved first. His footfalls sounded like drumbeats on the stainless-steel and aluminum gangplank, but there was no avoiding the characteristic clanking sound, and her strides were nearly as loud. By the time Gail arrived on the covered deck—promenade?—Jonathan had taken a knee and was sweeping the length of the ship with his muzzle, both forward and aft.

      “I’ve got the rear,” Gail said as she squatted behind him. She never felt comfortable using many nautical or military terms, not in the least because she felt that there was a high likelihood that she would screw them up. “And I’m clear.” Now that they were aboard the vessel, she couldn’t keep herself from whispering.

      “Also clear,” Jonathan said.

      And for both of them, that was something of a lie. Their views were limited, at best. While they had a clear view of the starboard side, a roof overhead masked whatever may lie above, and a heavy bulkhead obscured everything else.

      “Okay, Mother Hen,” Jonathan said. “We are on the covered exterior passageway on the starboard side. There’s a door roughly amidships.”

      “Take it,” Venice said. “If that design mirrors the one I pulled up from the Internet, you’ll be in the dining area.”

      Jonathan turned to Gail. “I’ll go in first and swing right. You follow and swing left.”

      She nodded.

      “Now.” Staying in a low crouch, she watched Digger shift to a left-handed grip on his M4, tilting it to the right to keep the red dot’s reticle in line with his dominant right eye. He led with his muzzle, swung the corner, and squirted through the open door into the relative darkness beyond. Gail wondered if the reason he chose to take the right was specifically so that she would not be put into a position to shoot left-handed.

      She was right on his ass as she cleared the opening and spun