Foxy looked below again. “Oh, hell . . . aye, aye, skipper.”
They descended toward the fast-moving ship. As they came up on it, several of the crew on deck waved—obviously thinking the chopper was just doing a flyby.
Foxy leaned down to examine the equipment-and-ventilator-shaft-studded deck. “Should I try to hail them on the radio first?”
Odin shook his head. “No. Signal an emergency with your landing lights and get this bird down, Foxy.” Odin checked the safety on his stolen MP5 submachine gun, which he then slid into a satchel bag. He looked back to the others. “We are going to commandeer this vessel. Control must be established rapidly and with as little violence as possible.”
“As little violence . . . ?” McKinney leaned forward. “My God, what are you doing?”
“Improvising. We’re going to ram the Ebba Maersk, Professor. This vessel’s clearly faster than that container ship.”
The faces of the others registered varying degrees of shock.
Foxy chuckled. “All those years in counterterrorism, and here I am hijacking a ship.”
Ritter stared in unbelieving amazement. “You can’t be serious? That swarm is designed to kill ships. That’s what they do.”
“We’ll see how long it takes them to do it.” Odin turned around in his seat. “I know you’ll try to warn the crew, Ritter. But in reality, you’re gonna help us.”
“The hell I am.”
Odin gestured to Smokey with a choking motion. Smokey immediately grabbed Ritter from behind in a chokehold. The man kicked and clawed at Smokey, but he was no match for the muscular commando.
McKinney shouted, “David, what are you doing! This isn’t right!”
“We’re not killing anyone. Just making sure he doesn’t mess up the plan.”
Even now she could see Ritter’s eyes rolling upward as Smokey’s chokehold blacked him out. “Mooch.”
Mooch had already opened his medical bag and was test-squirting a needle he’d prepared during the melee. “Roll up his sleeve.”
Ripper quickly did so, and Mooch delivered the injection. “I don’t know his health history, Odin, so this isn’t a big dose. You’ve probably got twenty minutes or so until he wakes up.”
“Good enough. If they ask, this is a medical emergency. He’s an oil executive returning from an offshore platform.” Odin tossed a container-yard hard hat into the backseat. “We think he had a stroke, and we need to see their ship’s doctor. The doctor’s cabin is usually close to the captain’s quarters, and the captain’s quarters are always next to any weapons.”
Foxy frowned. “It’s a commercial vessel, and this isn’t the Indian Ocean. They probably won’t have any weapons.”
“Mooch, you can speak the most convincing medical bullshit—you play the role of personal aide. Ripper, you’re his panicked wife.”
Ripper started peeling off her tactical harness. “Haven’t got a ring.”
“Evans!”
Evans tried to conceal his ring-covered hands. “Goddammit, are you for real?”
“Cough up one of those pinky rings for Ripper, and put another one on our disabled husband here.” Odin locked eyes with his team. “It’s a modern car carrier, so we’re probably looking at a crew of twenty to twenty-four people. We only need to gain control of the helm, engine room, and any weapons. Nonlethal force only. No knives—that means you, Ripper. No guns. Disable with hand-to-hand or lachrimatory agents only. Gear up.”
They were stowing their rifle cases, shedding military gear, and concealing pistols beneath their shirts as Foxy brought the chopper down to within a hundred feet above the moving ship. Wind turbulence buffeted them about. McKinney just now realized how perilous landing on the ship would be. Her nervousness about the imminent hijacking and drones faded in importance as the chopper lurched, dropped, and yawed to the side.
Odin shook his head. “Jesus, Foxy, you still remember how to fly this thing?”
“That helipad wasn’t meant for a chopper this size—and they’re going full steam.”
“Well, land this goddamned thing. We don’t have the fuel to mess around.”
Several crew members waved them away frantically as the large chopper continued its rapid descent, bucking against the turbulence.
McKinney felt her heart go into her throat as the Sikorsky quickly dropped half the distance to the helipad and slowed only ten feet or so off the deck. There was a bang as some part of the chopper hit a light mast or any of a number of objects crowding the helipad. Moments later the helicopter thumped down on the helipad, bounced slightly, and then finally came to a rest.