Radiant Angel

I stood and looked at her on the opposite dock, and saw blood on her left pant leg. “You okay?”

“I’m okay… Petrov said that Gorsky killed you.”

I wasn’t sure how she’d had a conversation with Colonel Petrov, and I didn’t care, but I cared about his health, so I asked, “Is he dead?”

“No. He’s… he may be following me.”

Shit.

She started limping toward the catwalk, and I asked her, “Who’s steering this ship?”

“I don’t know… I saw a dead man on the bridge.”

Well, he wasn’t steering. So either Petrov was steering or the autopilot was. I informed her, “Gorsky is dead. On the catwalk.”

“Good.”

“How far are we from Manhattan?”

“Maybe… less than a mile.”

So we had maybe five minutes—or less.

She moved across the catwalk and stepped over Gorsky like he was dog turd. She looked at the nuke as she came toward me on the dock and exclaimed, “You got it open!”

“Right.”

“Do you know what to do?”

“I do.”

“Thank God.”

I was about to dash to the catwalk and open the shell door, flooding the garage and submerging the nuke, which, if it was like my cell phone, would die quickly.

But Vasily Petrov had other ideas and he said, “Put your hands up and move away from the device.” He was standing at the double doors and aimed his MP5 at Tess. “Or I will shoot her.”

He was going to shoot her anyway, but he wasn’t going to shoot at me standing in front of the nuke, so I knew I could try to pull my Glock. Or pull the detonator wires.

“Move away!” He raised his submachine gun and pointed it at Tess, who knew the same trick I knew, and she dove over the side of the dock, but the water level was less than two feet now and she took a hard fall, though Petrov lost sight of her.

I used the opportunity to pull my Glock and pumped my remaining two rounds at him, then the gun clicked empty.

Petrov was down but not out, and he got to one knee, blood all over his arms and shirt. He raised his MP5 and aimed it at me, but hesitated because of the nuke behind me, which he did not want to blow prematurely, though I did, so I said, “Shoot, asshole!”

He didn’t shoot, but he stood and staggered toward the edge of the dock and looked down at Tess, who I could see from the boat, lying in the water. She’d been hurt in her dive off the dock and I knew she’d lost a lot of blood.

Petrov aimed his submachine gun down at her, and before I could pull the small pistol that I’d taken from Gorsky, Tess raised her Glock and put a bullet into Petrov, who tottered on the edge of the dock, then fell on top of Tess, who brought her arm around and fired another bullet into the side of Petrov’s head, splattering his brains out the other side. Can’t get deader than that. Das vidanya, asshole.

The water around her and Petrov was red, and I needed to put a tourniquet on her wound, but my only job now was to open the shell door and flood the compartment. I started to climb out of the boat and onto the dock.

A voice with an Eastern European accent said, “Please help me.”

I turned my head toward the voice and saw a guy coming from the double doors, dressed in blue denim. His shirt was open and there was blood on his chest and he was gripping his abdomen with both hands. “Who are you?”

“I am Mikhail. A seaman.” He also assured me, “A Bulgarian. Not Russian. All my mates are dead. I am wounded. Please—”

“Turn around and get down on the deck.” I started to reach for Gorsky’s pistol, but Mikhail had a similar gun and he pointed it at me.

“Do not move.”

What the…?

Mikhail informed me, “To be more truthful, I am not wounded. Also, I am a colleague of the late Colonel Petrov and the late Viktor Gorsky. Along for the cruise to see that all went well.”

I stated the obvious: “It didn’t.”

“I see that.” He continued, “Also I am here to eliminate all witnesses—including my colleagues.”

“Done that.”

“Thank you.” He, too, stated the obvious: “And now it is your turn.”

Well, I was totally pissed that this guy snookered me. That doesn’t happen often, but once was all it took. I glanced at Tess, but she was still lying on her back in the receding water with Petrov still on top of her. Shit.

To make sure Mikhail understood the situation, I told him, “In a few minutes, there won’t be any witnesses, including you, asshole.”

He replied, “I have reduced the speed of the ship.” He held up what looked like a cell phone. “And I have given myself another ten minutes to leave the ship.” He nodded toward the amphibious craft. “But before I leave, I wish to know from you what you and the CIA know about Operation Zero, and how you discovered this.”

I didn’t like being mistaken for a CIA guy, but I didn’t make an issue of it and asked, “What’s in it for me?”

“A quick bullet to your head. The alternative is several bullets to your abdomen.” He assured me, “Very painful.”

I already knew that from the last time I got shot in the gut, but I didn’t find either alternative very attractive or persuasive.

Mikhail sensed this, and he continued along the dock to get into a position to fire without hitting the nuke behind me. “What do you know?”

“I know you’re a dickhead and you’re going to die.” I glanced again at Tess, but she wasn’t moving.

Mikhail now noticed that the trunk was open, and this disturbed him. “Turn around and close the lid.”

So my options were reduced to two—go for my borrowed gun, or turn around and pull the detonator wires, which would either blow the nuke prematurely or kill it right before this asshole killed me.

People are morbidly drawn to looking at dead bodies, and Mikhail made the mistake of glancing at Urmanov as he passed him, and I pulled Gorsky’s gun from my pocket at the same time as Mikhail looked back at me.

I don’t know who would have gotten the first shot off, because all of a sudden I heard a deafening crash and the sound of tearing metal, and the ship rolled sharply to port. I was knocked off the boat and into the water and momentarily stu

Mikhail suddenly appeared with his gun aimed at where he’d last seen me. I popped off three rounds, discovering that Gorsky’s pistol was silenced, at the same time that Mikhail discovered that my aim was good.

I could hear water rushing into the ship, and The Hana was starting to list to starboard. Obviously we’d been rammed. The good news was that the nuke would be underwater. The bad news was that this ship was sinking fast.

I ran to Tess, who was now trying to get out from under Petrov’s dead body.

I pulled him off and helped her to her feet. She did not look good, but her head was clear and she said, “I saw an icebreaker…”

“Right. Let’s go.”

I lifted her onto the dock, then climbed up and got her to her feet. “I’m going to carry you to the swimming platform.” I reminded her, “Your float coat is there. Ready?”

“John, the nuke…”

I assured her, “The electronics will fizzle. Let’s go.”

But she kept staring at the nuke. “It might take too long for the water…”

I could hear the sea rushing in from about midship, but I didn’t see any water coming into the garage. So with the extra time that Mikhail had given us, I went back to Plan A and ran to the catwalk, shut off the garage pumps, then hit the switch marked SHELL DOOR.

I heard a hydraulic sound, and watched as the door on the starboard side began to swing out, letting in the sea. A wall of water ran into the garage, making the ship list more to starboard, and I thought we were going to capsize. Was this a good idea? But the nuke was completely covered with water now, and if it was really like my cell phone, it was dead. If not, we were.

The amphibious craft was rising with the water, and I called to Tess, who was limping toward me on the tilting dock. “Stay there!”