Hellfire by John Cutter

Author:John Cutter [Cutter, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-06-14T16:00:00+00:00

*

Vince finished cutting through the weld on the farther door of deck five. He turned off the saw, set it aside, as he heard voices on the other side, in Russian. He’d known that cutting through the weld here would draw the enemy. He was gambling that it was just the sentries on deck four. He drew the SIG Sauer, now equipped with the sound suppressor, and put his left hand on the lever that opened the door.

The men on the other side sounded like they were arguing. Thinly through the little aperture he’d cut under the door—he heard one of them shout, “You, German! Is that you? Come out, hands up! You are not authorized!”

“Ja, coming out, hands up!” he shouted.

He opened the door, and immediately shot the two Russian sentries between each man’s eyes—placing the two hissing shots in under a second, at almost point-blank range, so close there were burn marks on their foreheads as they fell.

Vince drew his hand back, listening. He heard nothing but ordinary ship’s noise. He stepped out, grabbed the nearest body by the collar and dragged it through the hatch. He did the same with the second one, dropping them to one side in the passageway. The blood on the deck, outside, would have to stay. Vince extended the gun through the door, then stepped out into the passageway, glancing left and right.

No one in sight. Ahead was a spiral metal stairway down to the next level. Mun’s deck.

Vince crossed to the stairs, descended as quietly as he could, and found himself behind a Russian sentry. A pop from the SIG and the guard fell, shot through the back of the head.

Vince stepped over the body, reached the open passageway for deck four, and stepped out, gun in hand, ready to fire. The Chinese sentry in front of Mun’s stateroom gasped and fumbled at his SMG’s strap, trying to bring the weapon into play, shouting a warning—Vince aimed carefully, and shot the man through the hand while he was reaching for the gun. The bullet passed through and lodged in the guard’s left arm. He yelped in pain and the SMG fell away from him, drooping on its strap.

“Let it drop!” Vince snarled, gesturing with his gun in case the guy didn’t know any English.

The guard groaned but let the submachine gun fall to the deck.

Vince strode to the sentry, kicked the SMG away, and said, “Open the door!”

The sentry gulped but shook his head. He was clutching his wounded hand to himself, grimacing with pain.

Vince said, “You’re a brave man.”

Then he cracked the sentry in the forehead with the butt of his gun, placing the blow with precision. The guard fell, stunned.

Vince knocked on the door with the tip of the suppressor. A handful of seconds passed, with Vince tensely watching the passageway, then the door opened. Commander Mun was wearing a red silk robe, slippers, and nothing else. A chubby man with a froggish look to his face. Mun gaped in surprise at Vince, then at Vince’s gun, then at the collapsed sentry.

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