Chapter 11 - The Iron Vessel
The twin diesel engines of the thirty-eight-foot harbor pilot boat roared as the craft cut through the black ocean swells.
Salt spray washed violently over the reinforced cabin glass as Dominic pushed the twin throttle levers to their maximum stops.
Beside him, Aaron Bennett checked the tactical night-vision optics on his helmet, his face illuminated by the green radar display.
"The Titan Fortune is half a mile ahead, moving at eight knots toward the outer shipping lane," Aaron shouted over the engine roar.
"The vessel is three hundred feet long, riding low in the water due to the ballast weight."
"There is a pilot boarding ladder hanging from the port side near the aft superstructure."
Dominic guided the pilot boat along the blind side of the massive steel hull, matching the larger vessel's forward speed.
The towering iron wall of the freighter loomed above them like a dark cliff face, rusty water pouring from the bilge outlets.
Dominic locked the pilot boat's throttle in neutral and grabbed the rusted steel rungs of the pilot ladder hanging over the side.
The two men hauled themselves up the slippery iron rungs in the torrential rain, moving with practiced tactical discipline.
Dominic swung over the deck coaming first, coming up in a low crouch with his weapon drawn and scanning the dark cargo deck.
The main deck was deserted, but the low thrum of the auxiliary generators vibrated through the steel deckplates beneath their boots.
A single armed guard emerged from the companionway door fifty feet forward, carrying an assault rifle on a tactical sling.
Before the guard could raise his weapon, Aaron fired a single suppressed shot through the man's throat from forty feet away.
The mercenary collapsed silently onto the wet deck, his body sliding into the scuppers as the ship rolled on a swell.
Dominic moved swiftly to the companionway, stepping over the fallen guard and entering the narrow, dimly lit interior corridor.
The smell of hot bunker fuel, grease, and ozone filled the narrow passageway leading up toward the ship's navigation bridge.
They climbed the steep steel ladders of the superstructure three levels at a time, their boots making no sound on the rubber treads.
Outside the heavy steel door of the wheelhouse, Dominic held up three fingers, counting down the breach.
Three.
Two.
One.
Dominic kicked the steel door open with explosive force, stepping into the dimly lit wheelhouse with his weapon raised.
Inside the navigation bridge, the green and amber lights of the radar screens cast long shadows across the control consoles.
Standing at the central steering helm was Dante Morretti, holding a heavy chrome revolver in his left hand.
On the navigation chart table behind him rested a ruggedized tactical transmitter with an illuminated red countdown timer.
The digital display read zero-one-forty-two and was counting down by the second.
"You really are a persistent bastard, Russo," Morretti sneered, turning slowly without releasing the ship's steering wheel.
"You brought your dead wife's brother to watch you die on the high seas?"
"Step away from the console and shut down the detonation sequence, Dante," Dominic commanded, his voice cold as ice.
Morretti laughed, his thumb pulling back the hammer on the chrome revolver with a sharp metallic click.
"This boat is already past the point of recovery, Dominic!" Morretti roared, raising the weapon.
"In ninety seconds, the charges in the lower ballast tanks will blow the hull open from the inside out!"
"I have an emergency survival raft waiting on the starboard crane, and you will be drowning in diesel fuel!"
Before Morretti could squeeze the trigger, Aaron Bennett fired a burst from his carbine, striking the navigation console beside the Don.
The electrical console exploded in a shower of sparks and shattered glass, blinding Morretti for a fraction of a second.
Dominic closed the distance in two massive strides, his left hand catching Morretti's gun wrist and twisting it violently upward.
A deafening gunshot blew a hole through the wheelhouse ceiling as Morretti pulled the trigger in reflex.
Dominic drove his right elbow into Morretti's jaw with brutal, shattering force, breaking the mobster's cheekbone instantly.
The heavy revolver slipped from Morretti's numbed fingers, clattering across the steel floorboards into the corner.
Morretti roared in fury, drawing a serrated tactical fighting blade from his belt and slashing wildly at Dominic's chest.
The sharp blade sliced through Dominic's tactical vest, carving a deep gash across his forearm as he blocked the lethal strike.
Dominic ignored the burning pain, grabbing Morretti's throat with an iron grip and slamming the Don's head into the steel chart table.
Morretti groaned, dropping the knife as Dominic struck him three more times with devastating, bone-crunching hammer fists.
The mob boss collapsed against the shattered consoles, coughing blood and gasping for breath on the floor.
"Aaron, the timer!" Dominic shouted, holding his bleeding forearm as he leaned over the navigation table.
The red digital countdown on the transmitter was flashing: zero-zero-twenty-four.
Aaron stepped up to the ruggedized box, his uninjured hand examining the complex wiring connecting the circuit boards.
"It has a dual mercury tilt switch and an encrypted frequency cutoff," Aaron said, sweat dripping from his chin onto the glass.
"If I pull the wrong lead, the signal detonates instantly."
Dominic hauled Morretti up by his collar, dragging his battered face inches from the ticking transmitter display.
"Which wire cuts the satellite pulse, Dante?" Dominic demanded, his thumb pressing deeply into Morretti's broken cheekbone.
"Go to hell, Dominic," Morretti spat, his mouth full of blood and broken teeth.
"I'd rather drown with you than spend thirty years in federal isolation."
Dominic reached down, picked up Morretti's discarded tactical knife from the floor, and placed the sharp tip beneath Dante's eye.
"You have five seconds before I take your eye and leave you tied to this steering column when the ship goes down," Dominic whispered.
The absolute, terrifying certainty in Dominic's cold eyes shattered the last remnant of Morretti's arrogant bravado.
"The blue ground loop!" Morretti shrieked, his voice cracking with pure animal terror.
"Cut the blue ground loop behind the battery relay!"
Aaron Bennett did not hesitate; he drew his tactical wire cutters and clipped the thick blue wire beneath the circuit board.
The red digital display on the transmitter blinked twice, then went completely dark with a quiet, electronic chirp.
The ticking stopped.
The low, ominous hum of the ballast pumps in the ship's lower compartments slowly wound down to silence.
Dominic dropped Morretti onto the steel floor, where the broken Don lay sobbing in his own blood and defeat.
Through the shattered front glass of the wheelhouse, the blue flashing lights of four United States Coast Guard cutters appeared on the horizon.
The dawn was beginning to break in the east, casting a pale, silver light over the cold waves of the Massachusetts bay.
Aaron Bennett leaned against the helm console, holding his bleeding shoulder, and let out a long, exhausted breath.
May you like
"It's over, Dominic," Aaron said quietly, looking out at the rising sun.
"Claire's ghost can finally rest."
