Read Deadly Coast for Free Online

vibration in the steel hull, a change he’d come to understand signaled a major course adjustment. He nodded to himself as he felt the ship turn to port, and realized the significance. Last night’s GPS reading had them just north of Bab-el-Mandeb, and he’d been waiting for a sign they’d moved through the narrow strait into the Gulf of Aden.
    The men had sensed the change as well, and turned toward him, every face a question. Mukhtar ignored them and pulled the last water bottle from his pack. Less than a liter remained. They were not as close to home as he would have liked, but he could delay no more.
    He straightened and handed the bottle to the man beside him.
    “One swallow and pass it on,” he said. “We save the rest to cleanse ourselves this evening before Isha’a .” Mukhtar smiled at his men’s expectant looks. “We strike tonight, when everyone except the bridge watch is asleep.”
    “Allahu Akbar,” murmured his men in unison.

Chapter Four
    M/T Luther Hurd
Eastbound
Gulf of Aden
    Mukhtar squatted in the darkness on the starboard bridge wing, his left shoulder pressed against the wheelhouse bulkhead, and his senses heightened by a rush of adrenaline. He felt the rhythmic throb of the engine through the steel at his feet and heard the soft breathing of the man squatting behind him. The others were similarly deployed on the port side, waiting for his signal.
    He rose until his eyes just cleared the bottom of the waist-high side window of the wheelhouse. The helmsman and the watch officer had their backs to him as they stood side by side, leaning on their elbows on the forward windowsill and gazing out at the ship’s bow. They appeared to be chatting, and even without the night-vision goggles, he would’ve been able to make out their silhouettes in the soft glow of moonlight. Good, the ship was on automatic pilot. Should something go awry, he wouldn’t have to worry about veering off course and alerting any escort.
    The sudden thought of an escort chilled him. The plan called for the infidels to be subdued silently, but fire discipline was always a challenge with the mujahideen, and their weapons were not suppressed. The flash and sound of gunfire would carry a long way over water, and it wouldn’t do to alert either the sleeping crew or an escort before he was prepared. Mukhtar sank back into a crouch and reconsidered his plan to rush the wheelhouse from each bridge wing.
    After a time, he smiled, and motioned for his man to follow as he duck-walked forward, staying below the wheelhouse windows. He stopped a few feet aft of the open door into the wheelhouse and pulled a spare magazine from his pants pocket. He turned to see his underling nod in understanding and follow suit. Mukhtar held up three fingers for a silent countdown, and they lobbed the magazines in unison, away from the wheelhouse, which struck the steel deck with a sharp metallic clatter.
    As expected, the watch officer came to investigate, intent on reaching the source of the sound farther out on the bridge wing. He moved through the open door with the helmsman on his heels, both playing small penlights on the deck in front of them. The pirates let them pass, then rose as one from the darkness to press the muzzles of their weapons against the backs of the seamen’s heads.
    “Move or make a sound, and you’re dead,” said Mukhtar.
    Arnett hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since she’d watched the chopper carry Vince Blake away at Gibraltar. Sleep came in patches, punctuated by weird dreams, the latest of which was unfolding behind her twitching eyelids. In it, she watched helplessly as Charlie Brown and thousands of his minions sailed off with Luther Hurd , leaving her adrift in the lifeboat in her underwear. She screamed curses, and then jerked awake in the dark—wakened by a sound that shouldn’t be there.
    She lay panting in the twisted sheets, trying to get her bearings and straining to hear what had wakened her,