Marshal Stalling nodded.“Lost Black.Nothing anyone could do.We’ve been keeping up with everything on comms.Mrs.Peña connected us.”
Cynthia Norton came toward him with a first aid kit in her hand.“Let me see your face.”
Secret Service Agent Guthrie stepped forward, a note of warning in his tone.“Ma’am?”
“Thank you, Doc.”He smiled and shook his head.“Later.Still on the clock.”
“I can see bone,” she protested, while gifting Guthrie a withering stare.
“Later,” he explained.
Cynthia turned her scornful look upon Jerry.“You’re just as bad as the rest of them.”
He half-grinned a tight-lipped grin.“Then I’m in very good company, ma’am.”
He looked at Captain Ege, intending to ask him about the first mate.The man did not look well.His skin had a grayish tint, and deep circles had formed under his eyes.Jerry looked over at Waller and made a gesture with his head.Tim immediately walked over to the Captain and knelt in front of him.“Hi, sir, can I take your pulse?”
“Dr.Norton?I’m gonna need Bourbon with me.Right away.Can you do anything for the Captain?”
Secret Service Agent Guthrie interrupted.“Ma’am, we can’t allow that right now.”
Jerry took a deep breath to keep himself from audibly expressing his personal opinion concerning DHS.“Look Guthrie.I need my guy.I have neither the time nor the crayons to explain the situation to you.So here’s the juice.He’s stepping back, and the Captain is now your problem.Okay?Good talk.”
While walking toward Captain Ege, Cynthia directed her words toward her protection detail.“I’m treating him.Figure it out.”
Jerry tapped Waller on the shoulder.“Need your eyes, Bourbon.”
Jerry thoughtfully unslung “QB” and leaned the long rifle against the chapel bulkhead, then slipped carefully out of the backpack rig he had improvised, squatting to let the carbine make gentle contact with the deck.
He handed Stalling the carbine and the ammunition for it, then said, “We have support inbound.Just about to take back that island.This will all be over soon.”
Jerry handed Waller the pilfered set of optics, followed by the backpack containing his sniper rounds, and they moved to the windows.At the windows, Jerry raised his rifle and used “QB’s” optics to survey the entire visible island while Waller used the dismounted scope like an ancient telescope.In his suit, he looked comically akin to a sixteenth-century sea captain while doing so.
The cruise ship had dropped anchor about a quarter of a kilometer from the small private island, making the morning taxi runs for the tenders a breeze.QB had an accurate range of up to 1,800 meters or nearly two full kilometers.Through the powerful scope, Jerry could see each person, make out their facial expressions, and even read the nametags on some of their uniforms.
“Fish in a barrel,” Waller murmured.
Jerry found his suit jacket slung over a chair where he had left it and picked it up.He caught Waller’s eye and said, “Let’s go.Burning daylight.”
Waller threw him a thumbs-up, and together they left the chapel and walked around the area near the stairs.Jerry once again slung QB and found a foothold that allowed him to climb onto the chapel’s roof.Here, he had the highest vantage point of the ship.
Waller passed up the backpack, followed by his dismounted scope and carbine.Then Jerry gave him a hand up to the roof.
“You good?”
“I’m good,” Waller answered.
Jerry laid his jacket on the burning hot deck.Waller tossed the backpack in front of it like a sandbag, and Jerry settled on his stomach, then set up the long gun for accuracy and harmonics.Once he had everything in place, he took his time looking through the scope, keeping his finger alongside the trigger but not on it.He spied the obvious baddies.Now he just needed to figure out who else had joined the gang.
“Bravo Four set,” he reported.
Anderson came back.“Roger, Bravo Four.Talon Strike now 2 mikes out.”
A long twenty seconds or so went by, and Anderson broadcast, “I have comms.Talon Strike, this is Neptune’s Dagger.Welcome to the party.Over.”
A new voice came over their comms, linked in by Anderson.“Roger, Neptune’s Dagger.We brought some party favors.Save us some snacks.Talon Strike inbound in…ONE MINUTE!”
“Tighten up,” Jerry whispered.“One minute.”
