~ ~ ~
Jet slowly traversed the dark main salon, trying to spot where all the security was stationed. She counted eight bodyguards on the back deck, and three had gone upstairs with Grigenko, leaving at least another nine onboard, if the CIA background document on the ship was correct. The Russian traveled with a contingent of twenty-four men when he was on the yacht, not counting the crew, the helicopter pilot, the mechanic, the captain and first mate, and the deckhands and domestic staff. She counted four guards on the wharf now. That left twelve somewhere above the salon.
She walked onto the rear deck among the rest of the guests and glanced up at the superstructure rising three stories above her. She could see the outlines of two men on each level watching the wharf for threats. That totaled six visible on all external upper decks and eight on the main one, with four on the dock.
Jet inched around the musicians and back into the salon’s gloom, retreating to a quiet corner.
“You have six bad guys inside near Grigenko. There are six more outside on the upper decks and eight down here. Four on the dock. Over.”
“I’m proceeding up to the command level. When the lights come back on, I’m going to need the second distraction within no more than one minute. Are you ready?”
“Affirmative. On your mark.”
She knew from studying the ship’s schematic that there was another service stairway near the galley, forward of the bar. It was almost impossible to see inside, but she felt her way along until she reached the forward bulkhead, and then groped along the joinery until she found the entry to the stairs.
“I’m in position.”
“Okay. I’m at the entertainment level. I see two inside. Preparing to neutralize.” David’s words were barely audible.
Just then, the air-conditioning units and the refrigeration kicked on with a hum, followed by the lights.
Applause sounded from the rear deck, and the band increased its tempo, a few of the partygoers clapping along as the mugging bass player plucked theatrically at the strings of his stand-up bass and gave it a twirl.
One of the security men cleared his throat and called for the attention of the gathering as Jet slipped her cell phone out of her purse and pressed the number six speed dial number.
“Ladies and gentlemen. The power is now back on, so if you would join me in returning to the salon, I would appreciate it. The harbor department frowns on excess noise on the marina, and now tha–”
Jet pushed the number one key on her phone, and the lights flickered and then went out again.
The crowd groaned, and the band slowed its pace to a funeral dirge tempo, engendering laughter and a smattering of applause. She took the opportunity to move into the stairwell that led to the entertainment level and softly took the steps one at a time, retrieving her makeup bag as she climbed. After feeling inside and pocketing the casino card, she found the mascara and twisted the top counter-clockwise, watching as it slowly wound back to the original position with a series of small clicks. She dropped it back into the bag, placed it at the top of the stairs and inched away from it, the light from the dark tinted windows barely sufficient to see.
The bag detonated with a hiss of white-hot phosphor, then the other contents exploded outward, spraying liquid fire on the carpet and wood railing, which immediately ignited.
As the flames spread, Jet heard the distinctive popping of a pistol from the same level. She darted to the recessed metal box near the stairs and pulled the handle of the fire alarm, which sounded a klaxon wail throughout the yacht – she’d known that the emergency warning system was on a different battery bank and had left it intact.
The guards on the outside deck turned to see flames licking at the drapes and pushing from the stairwell to the aft portion of the entertainment deck salon. As they approached the glass doors at a run, Jet saw the nearest guard tumble backward as his chest tore open, then the man behind him spun around as a slug shattered his skull. Both men lay motionless in a spreading black pool of blood, so Jet sprinted to the nearest and pulled his pistol free, chambering a round before turning. She caught a glimpse of David moving up the far stairs to the command level and called up to the exterior deck.
“Oh my God! There’s a fire down here. Fire! FIRE!” she screamed at the two guards she’d seen earlier – she repeated the yell to the people outside on the main deck. The panic was instantaneous as the throng fought to get off the boat, fire now pouring from the entertainment level windows.
One of the guards above her leaned over the railing with an alarmed look on his face and, seeing a woman, looked past her to the lower deck. His partner joined him, and she screamed ‘fire’ again, but the second man was quicker on his feet and sensed a threat, woman or not. He was pulling at his shoulder holster when she squeezed off a shot at him, hitting him in the center of the chest, and then fired at his partner, who took two rounds in the throat.
Screams of horror emanated from below as the crowd went berserk after hearing the sounds of the shots, scrambling and clawing to get away from the new threat of gunfire even as the security men around them drew their weapons, adding to the mayhem.
She swung onto the metal ladder that led from the entertainment deck to the command center and was three quarters of the way up when she heard the percussive blast of the FN P90, still loud even with the suppresor. Shots answered it, and the little gun chattered back.
Jet rolled onto the command level, using a fallen guard as cover – one of the windows near her went opaque as bullets pounded into it. She crawled to the access door, and when a guard’s head moved into view, she blew the top of it off.
The clamoring of the alarm was even louder on this deck, and her ears rang from tinnitus caused by the guns’ detonations. She heard more shooting inside, and then her ear bud came to life. David’s strained voice echoed in her ear.
“I’m hit.”
No.
“Where are you? How bad?”
He wheezed and then answered, “By the surveillance room. I took one in the chest. Not good.”
“I’m coming. Where’s Grigenko?”
“Near the bridge. He’s still got two bodyguards with him. The rest are dead.”
“I’ll be with you in a second. Hold on.”
She moved into the dark, the layout of the bridge level burned into her brain from studying the blueprint.
Another shot rang out, and she heard a grunt of pain in her ear bud. They were killing him.
She ran in a crouch to where she thought David would be, and then a pistol butt slammed into the back of her head, and she collapsed, even as she tried to spin to fire at her assailant. Her gun clattered uselessly by her feet as her legs lost the ability to support her, and then she blacked out, the dim glow of the emergency lighting on the controls from the far bridge spinning giddily as the night rushed in and everything went silent.