Chapters (96)
- Cover
- Berkley titles by David Ricciardi
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- CHARACTER LIST
- PROLOGUE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- EIGHTY-FOUR
- EIGHTY-FIVE
- EIGHTY-SIX
- EIGHTY-SEVEN
- Children of Fallen Patriots Foundation
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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“It was told to me in confidence . . .”
The warlord looked sideways at his old friend.
“Out with it,” said Yaxaas. “You can take her home with you to salve your conscience.”
Cawar’s leering eyes shifted to the warlord. “It’s Badeed. He’s amassing men and weapons . . . far more than he needs for defense.”
“So what does he have planned?”
“Forgive me for being blunt, but these skirmishes in Mogadishu have weakened you both.”
“So he’s re-arming?”
“It’s more than that . . .”
Yaxaas gave his old friend another look.
“He thinks you’re weak,” said Cawar. “He senses an opportunity to consolidate power once and for all.”
“Then he’s stupider than I thought. Whatever he’s buying, I’ll buy double.”
TEN
IT WAS JUST after midnight when the twelve pirates split up.
Eight stayed aft and four went forward, led by a tall man with piercing blue eyes.
Though the DoubleDown was technically a Suezmax-class ship, anyone outside the shipping industry would have called it a supertanker. Nine hundred feet long and one hundred sixty feet wide, the ship steamed through the Arabian Sea at eighteen knots as she ferried a million barrels of jet fuel from a refinery in Mangaluru, India, to the Mediterranean Sea.
Clad in gray and black camouflage, the four pirates advanced in the shadows of several large cargo transfer pipes that ran the length of the ship. By the time they reached the foredeck, they were seven hundred feet from the superstructure and invisible to the crewmen standing watch on the bridge.
There were two former French marines facing forward, watching the sea and crewing a mounted machine gun. They were part of the ship’s vessel protection detail. The armed detachments had been effective against the first-generation pirates who’d assaulted ships using extension ladders and AK-47s, but the group of men that had snuck aboard the DoubleDown was nothing like first-generation pirates—they were a tier-one special operations team specializing in noncompliant boardings—and short of a military force, they had no equal.
They advanced slowly, silently.
Maritime assault boots. Knees bent slightly. Rifles at high ready.
From twenty yards away, the pirates lined up on the two vessel protection marines and fired a suppressed round into the back of each man’s head in case he was wearing body armor.
“Bow clear,” said the lead pirate over his radio.
“Bow clear, roger,” came the reply from the mission commander.
The breacher in the team of eight pirates used a Halligan tool to pry open a metal door at the base of the superstructure and the eight men poured inside. There was a staircase ahead and a few utility rooms to the sides, but no sign of the ship’s crew. Two pirates held the space while the others returned outside and divided their force once again. Three went to port and three to starboard.