Six of the notoriously inaccurate missiles fizzled harmlessly into the sea. Another impacted one of the Oregon’s dummy cargo derricks, dropping it like a felled tree. The heavy steel mast crashed against the deck hard enough to make the eleven-thousand-ton vessel shudder. The eighth missile slammed into the superstructure below the bridge. The shaped high-explosive warhead was designed to punch through a tank’s thick armor, so when it exploded through the half-inch steel, much of its force remained. Two of the mock-up cabins the Corporation used during harbor inspections were gutted by the kinetic force of the explosion, but the damage was mostly cosmetic. The damage control computer activated the fire suppression system without need for human intervention, and it also directed damage control teams to the area.

“I want a report in thirty seconds,” Max said over the ship’s emergency channel.

He checked the GPS display and speed indicators. They were backing out of the breaker’s yard at twenty knots and accelerating. A few seconds more, and they’d be out of range of Shere Singh’s RPGs. But if he had more sophisticated weapons, Stinger missiles, for example, they still needed more room to shoot the rockets out of the air.

“Linc, give me a sit rep.”

“They’re on to us,” the SEAL called back. Over the voice channel Max heard the bellow of the Zodiac’s engine and the crackle of machine gun fire. “One boat is chasing us. The other three are still closing on you.”

“Give us a minute to get out of those missiles’ range, and we’ll provide cover fire. Gomez Adams is about to launch our second UAV, so we should have a good view of the battlefield in a few minutes.”

“Roger.”

Arrowing across the bay at nearly forty knots, Linc couldn’t hope to hit anything as he sprayed rounds at the utility boat with his M-4A1. The three-round bursts were intended to keep the pursuers from firing at him. So far, the few return volleys had been wild. The men had simply propped their weapons against the utility boat’s gunwales and fired without looking.

He couldn’t believe the hits the Oregon was taking and realized that they had been expected. But it didn’t matter if the Sikh owner of the breaker’s yard was on to the Corporation. What mattered now was finding the chairman and then beating a fast retreat.

The ship saw had stopped its ungodly racket a moment earlier, and Linc didn’t know if this was a good sign or bad, but until the Oregon took out the utility boat chasing in their wake, they couldn’t risk making a run for the shed. Or could they?