Deception Point Page 103

Unfortunately, Delta-One had seen the complexity of the control panel near the trapdoor-a series of unmarked levers and dials that seemingly controlled the trapdoor, the winch motor, and numerous other commands. He had no intention of hitting the wrong lever and risking his partners feeling by mistakenly dropping the chock into the sea.Eliminate all risk. Never rush.He would force Tolland to fulfill the actual release. And to ensure he did not try anything tricky, Delta-One would take place insurance known in his business as biological collateral.Use your adversaries against one another.Delta-One swung the gun barrel at once into Rachels face, s clearping exactly inches from her forehead. Rachel closed her eye, and Delta-One could see Tollands fists clench in a protective anger.Ms. sexton, stand up, Delta-One said.She did.With the gun firmly on her covering fire, Delta-One marched her over to an aluminum set of portable stairs that led up to the top of the Triton electric ray from behind. Climb up and stand on top of the sub.Rachel looked frightened and confused.Just do it, Delta-One said.Rachel felt manage she was lamentable through a nightmare as she climbed up the aluminum gangway behind the Triton. She halt at the top, having no desire to step out over the chasm onto the suspended Triton.Get on top of the sub, the soldier said, returning to Tolland and pushing the gun against his head.In front of Rachel the soldier who was in the clamps watched her, shifting in disorder, obviously eager to get out. Rachel looked at Tolland, who now had a gun barrel to his head. Get on top of the sub. She had no choice.Feeling manage she was edging out onto a precipice overhanging a canyon, Rachel stepped onto the Tritons engine casing, a small flat section behind the rounded dome window. The entire sub hung like a massive plumb bob over the open trapdoor. Even suspended on its winch line of work, the nine-ton sub barely registered her arrival, swinging only a few millimeters as she steadied herself.Okay, lets move, the soldier said to Tolland. Go to the controls and close the trapdoor.At gunpoint, Tolland began moving toward the control panel with the soldier behind him. As Tolland came toward her, he was moving slowly, and Rachel could feel his eyes fixing hard on her as if assay to send her a message. He looked directly at her and then imbibe at the open enshroud on top of the Triton.Rachel glanced down. The hatch at her feet was open, the heavy circular covering propped open. She could see down into the one-seater cockpit. He wants me to get in? sense she must be mistaken, Rachel looked at Tolland again. He was almost to the control panel. Tollands eyes spiraled on her. This time he was less subtle.His lips mouthed, Jump in NowDelta-One saw Rachels motion out of the corner of his eye and wheel or so on instinct, opening fire as Rachel omit through the subs hatch just below the assault of bullets. The open hatch covering ra ng out as the bullets ricocheted off the circular portal, sending up a shower of sparks, and slamming the lid closed on top of her.Tolland, the instant hed felt the gun leave his back, make his move. He dove to his left, away from the trapdoor, hitting the deck and rolling just as the soldier spun back toward him, gun blazing. Bullets exploded behind Tolland as he scrambled for cover behind the ships stern fasten spool-an enormous motorized cylinder around which was wound several thousand feet of steel cable affiliated to the ships anchor.Tolland had a plan and would have to act fast. As the soldier dashed toward him, Tolland reached up and grabbed the anchor lock with both hands, yanking down. Instantly the anchor spool began feeding out lengths of cable, and the Goya lurched in the strong current. The sudden ride sent everything and everyone on the deck staggering sidelong. As the boat accelerated in reverse on the current, the anchor spool doled out cable faster and faster.Com e on, baby, Tolland urged.The soldier regained his balance and came for Tolland. Waiting until the proceed possible moment, Tolland braced himself and rammed the lever back up, locking the anchor spool. The chain snapped taut, stopping the ship miserable and sending a tremulous shudder throughout the Goya. Everything on deck went flying. The soldier staggered to his knees near Tolland. Pickering fell back from the railing onto the deck. The Triton swung wildly on its cable.A grating howl of failing alloy tore up from beneath the ship like an earthquake as the damaged strut last gave way. The right stern corner of the Goya began collapsing under its own weight. The ship faltered, tilting on a diagonal like a massive table losing one of its four legs. The noise from beneath was deafen-a wail of twisting, grating admixture and pounding surf.White-knuckled inside the Triton cockpit, Rachel held on as the nine-ton implement swayed over the trapdoor in the now steeply inclined deck . Through the base of the glass dome she could see the ocean raging below. As she looked up, her eyes scanning the deck for Tolland, she watched a bizarre drama on the deck unfold in a matter of seconds.Only a yard away, trapped in the Tritons claws, the clamped Delta soldier was howling in pain as he bobbed like a puppet on a stick. William Pickering scrambled across Rachels discipline of vision and grabbed on to a cleat on the deck. Near the anchor lever, Tolland was also hanging on, trying not to slide over the edge into the water. When Rachel saw the soldier with the machine gun stabilizing himself nearby, she called out inside the sub. Mike, look outBut Delta-One ignored Tolland entirely. The soldier was looking back toward the idling whirlybird with his mouth open in horror. Rachel turned, following his gaze. The Kiowa gunship, with its huge rotors still turning, had started to slowly slide beforehand down the tipping deck. Its long metal skids were acting like skis on a sl ope. It was then that Rachel realized the huge machine was skidding directly toward the Triton.Scrambling up the inclined deck toward the sliding aircraft, Delta-One clambered into the cockpit. He had no intention of letting their only means of escape slide off the deck. Delta-One seized the Kiowas controls and heaved back on the stick. Lift off With a deafening roar, the blades accelerated overhead, straining to lift the heavily armed gunship off the deck. Up, goddamn it The chopper was sliding directly toward the Triton and Delta-Two suspended in its grasp.With its nose tipped forward, the Kiowas blades were also tipped, and when the chopper lurched off the deck, it sailed more forward than up, accelerating toward the Triton like a giant buzz saw. Up Delta-One pulled the stick, wishing he could drop the fractional ton of Hellfire warheads weighing him down. The blades just missed the top of Delta-Twos head and the top of the Triton sub, still the chopper was moving too fast. It would never clear the Tritons winch cable.As the Kiowas 300-rpm steel blades collided with the subs fifteen-ton capacity lace steel winch cable, the night erupted with the shriek of metal on metal. The sounds conjured images of epic battle. From the choppers armored cockpit, Delta-One watched his rotors tear into the subs cable like a giant lawn mower running over a steel chain. A flagrant spray of sparks erupted overhead, and the Kiowas blades exploded. Delta-One felt the chopper bottom out, its struts hitting the deck hard. He tried to control the aircraft, notwithstanding he had no lift. The chopper bounded twice down the inclined deck, then slid, crashing into the ships guardrail.For a moment, he thought the rail would hold.Then Delta-One heard the crack. The heavily laden chopper listed over the brink, plummeting into the sea.Inside the Triton, Rachel Sexton sat paralyzed, her body pressed back into the subs seat. The minisub had been tossed violently as the choppers rotor w rapped around the cable, but she had managed to hang on. Somehow the blades had missed the main body of the sub, but she knew there had to be major(ip) damage to the cable. All Rachel could think of at that point was escaping from the sub as fast as she could. The soldier trapped in the clamps stared in at her, delirious, bleeding, and burned from the shrapnel. Beyond him, Rachel saw William Pickering still holding on to a cleat on the slanting deck.