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K urt took a photo of the military helicopter then put the cell in his pocket. The signal could come back at some point. He wondered what the best play would be if he was a billionaire with evil-overlord tendencies.

Had Hurek left with Gilder to cement their friendship while mercs got rid of Kurt and the crew? Not unlikely considering Hurek’s track record.

Or was Gilder making sure there were absolutely no witnesses to his latest atrocity? Including Hurek and Kurt. No one to stop him holding Rowena captive for as long as he damned well wanted—except HRT. Jordan would look for her. The boys would find her.

He dove behind the dead guy and rolled him in front of him as the bullets started flying, ripping through the skin of the ship like fireworks through tinfoil. In terms of protection, the dead man wouldn’t help much if there were a direct hit, but it was better than nothing .

The chopper fired for what seemed like hours, seemingly searching for targets before blasting one area after another.

A good thing thermal cameras couldn’t see through metal. But what would they do next? Gilder couldn’t afford a single survivor if he wanted his secrets kept.

The mercs would go room to room, cabin to cabin, and make sure everyone was dead, and they’d blow the ship so most of the evidence was lost or destroyed by the ocean.

He wouldn’t put it past Gilder to be able to fake the ship’s beacon and place them far away from here when the ship disappeared from radar.

He must pay his soldiers a goddamned fortune to keep their mouths shut, but they wouldn’t be able to spend it dead or in prison.

Jordan would be raising the alarm, but it wouldn’t come fast enough to help Kurt. He had to save himself, and then he could rescue Rowena from that sonofabitch.

The .50 cal stopped firing. The bird was presumably going to land. A few minutes later, Kurt heard two shots as the mercs began finishing off survivors.

How many were there? That helicopter could hold fifteen troops, but add the .50 cal and you were down to ten to twelve max.

He could see daylight through the side of his porthole now and considered kicking his way out of the cabin. But that would be noisy, and noise would attract attention and make him vulnerable.

Kurt hauled the dead guy up until he was sitting slumped over the desk. Then Kurt stepped into the small closet on the left of the door and settled himself down to wait. Calmed his mind. Settled his breathing. Let his heart rate slow.

He hoped Hurek was still alive. Kurt wanted that guy in a cell for the rest of his miserable life. Gilder too. He wouldn’t object to inflicting a little personal retribution, but their long-term incarceration would be enough.

He let his mind quiet. No thoughts of Rowena or the team. Just his wits against those of the enemy. Survival at its most primitive. Predator and prey in the primordial swamp.

A slice of the inner corridor was visible through the holes the bullets had ripped through the interior walls. The light step of purposeful feet went door to door.

A double tap rang out not far away. Another man down.

Kurt didn’t know if all the crew were bad guys or simply caught up in an impossible situation. They appeared complicit in Hurek’s crimes, but the idea of them being slaughtered, one by one, was sickening.

He kept absolutely still as a pair of legs dressed in black tactical gear walked slowly forward.

The merc held matte black SIG Sauer P226 9mms—one of his favorite weapons.

One man spoke quietly, and another one laughed in response—two men.

They reached his door, and he heard the key turn in the lock.

One man came inside. Checked the dead guy who’d become very useful since he’d stopped breathing, then headed back out of the room.

They left the door open.

Kurt turned the butter knife in his hand and stepped soundlessly out of the closet, out of the room and into the nearest merc’s shadow. He slit the man’s throat before the man could register Kurt was there, and Kurt used his gun to shoot his buddy, first in the leg then in the face.

They both dropped. Kurt dragged them back into his cabin and quickly stripped off the body armor and the least bloodied clothing, including a dark gray neck gaiter that doubled as a face mask and the black knit hat that covered his hair. Nothing in the pockets except a pair of wraparound Oakleys.

He pocketed a knife, both SIGs, and spare ammo. He stuck in an earpiece and listened to South African accented signals.

“Ten minutes to extraction.”

He slipped on the glasses and checked himself in the mirror. He could definitely pass for the guy he’d knifed to death.

“Pattern, approaching you on ‘C’ Deck. ”

After a slight pause the merc signaled again.

“Roger that,” Kurt murmured with a lilt of Afrikaans. He walked out of his cabin and strode confidently down the corridor toward the center of the boat. He turned the corner and came across two more men in black.

“I was beginning to think you got lost. Where’s Walters?”

“Dead. One of the crew got a shot off.” His accent wasn’t half bad, Kurt thought as he shot both men in the face at close range. “So are you.” He dragged them into the nearest room and pulled their comms, pocketed more ammo.

“Nine minutes to departure.”

Kurt didn’t know the layout of the ship but figured there’d be two teams on each level. The more mercs he could take out before he got on that bird, the better for him and Rowena.

“Hurek secure. Found him hiding in the walk-in freezer. If it was up to me, I’d leave him there.”

“Boss insisted he is captured alive. Promised a reward.”

Kurt slipped down to “D” deck and spotted another pair of assholes dragging a subdued and bleeding Darmawan Hurek between them.

Gunshots were being exchanged on the other side of the ship.

“Here. Take him.”

Hurek was thrust toward him as the mercs headed down the corridor to help out their comrades. Kurt put two bullets in their backs. He wasn’t proud of it, but this was a goddamned survival situation and not a fair fight. His mission was rescuing Rowena.

“If you want to live,” Kurt told Hurek quietly, “stay here and wait for me. Move, and I’ll kill you myself.”

The terrorist froze, recognizing Kurt’s voice, then nodded rapidly. His nose was bloody. His eyes red from crying. The scent of ammonia wafting off him suggested he’d pissed his pants.

There was satisfaction in that, but it wasn’t enough. Not after everything he’d done.

Kurt headed down the narrow corridor and poked his head around to see where the gunfire was coming from .

Two men in black had their backs to him firing at what looked like a cook, who was shooting back.

Kurt put bullets in both men. It was like shooting fish in a barrel when they assumed you were on their team.

He’d killed eight. How many more were there?

“Six minutes.”

He ran back to Hurek who stood dejectedly where he’d left him.

Kurt pulled a neck gaiter off a dead merc and used it as a gag.

“Just in case you think the men Gilder sent here to capture you are a better bet than dealing with the FBI. Gilder will kill you, but I suspect he’ll do it after he’s tortured the locations of all the blackmail material you have on him out of you.

Hell, he’s slippery enough to say he caught you, collect the reward and make himself look like a goddamned hero.

” He hurried him along. “We need to get to the helipad ASAP because I’m pretty sure this ship is set to blow. ”

“Five minutes, guys. Get back here, or else I’m leaving without you.”

Hurek’s eyes looked as wide and scared as a whipped dog.

Kurt didn’t give a shit. “You blow my cover, you say a damned word, or if I even think you’re going to say a damned word, I will kill you. To save Rowena. To capture Gilder. In the meanwhile, Darmawan Hurek, consider yourself under arrest. You have the right to remain silent… Use it.”

Four minutes later, Kurt sat in the back of the helo with his gun pointed at Hurek.

The other three remaining mercs high-fived one another and slumped down laughing and grinning about murdering the crew like it was a video game.

The crew weren’t human. They were marks on a scorecard. The enemy for the right price.

The mercs weren’t even particularly bothered by their lost compatriots, although they’d been surprised the crew had put up any opposition .

They turned his stomach, and it made the thought of killing them easier to bear. He held his SIG against Hurek in a threatening manner, acting aggressively because he didn’t have the ability to feign joy at their thoughtless slaughter.

His hands were just as bloody, but he’d targeted people who were trying to kill him. He had no regrets.

The pilot pulled up and away from the ship as soon as everyone had piled in. The guy was swearing and genuinely pissed as they hugged the surface of the ocean.

The mercs had cut it fine because these assholes had been having too much fun. How many people were left alive down there? He didn’t know, and it sickened him.

Kurt waited for the boom. The distraction he knew was coming.

When the explosion came the three amigos stood up and peered through the windows and whooped like they’d won the lottery. He put two bullets in each of them. Then he stepped over the bodies and knelt on the seat. Put his gun to the pilot’s head. “I suggest you listen very carefully.”