“Head for the lifeboat, Captain.”
“Who is piloting my vessel?”
Two crewmen in blue coveralls came rushing out of a doorway and halted in surprise at the sight of Odin wielding the submachine gun.
The captain motioned to them. “Take Jöran and Pindal to the escape boat.” On their uncertainty he added, “Now!”
Mooch was using wet wipes to wash away the mace from the faces of the stricken men. The two crewmen edged nervously alongside to take charge of them. “Kommer du, Kapten?”
“Jag stannar med skeppet.”
The crewmen looked grim-faced as they performed a capable fireman’s carry and shouldered the men down the hall.
“Get going, Captain.”
“I’m staying with my ship.”
Odin raised the gun.
“My crew is leaving, and I cannot let you take charge of this vessel in an active shipping lane. You could cause a collision, an oil spill, or worse. You tell me where you need to go, and I will take you there.”
Mooch was checking Ritter’s pulse. “We could use the help, chief.”
Odin shook his head. “He has no idea what we’re headed into.”
The captain looked down at Ritter. “Is that man really ill?”
Mooch put away his stethoscope. “He’s been sedated. If you have any doubts that we’re about to be attacked by drones, see how he acts when he wakes up.”
“I am staying. If what you claim is true, then a skilled captain will be useful. And I know my ship.”
Odin lowered the MP5. “I refuse to take responsibility for your decision. You were warned.” He gestured for the captain to walk first. “Now lead us to the bridge.”
Mooch called after Odin. “What about Ritter?”
“Secure him. We’ll deal with him later.”
McKinney followed Odin and the captain up several metal gangways, gaining height until they finally emerged in the center of a narrow but long control room running the entire width of the ship. It was lined, front, back, and sides, with tall, durable-looking windows fitted with vertical windshield wipers. The room was bordered at waist level with consoles populated by switches, phone handsets, radios, radar screens, and built-in computer displays. Behind that was another console with a ship’s wheel and throttle controls, along with wide counters on which sat navigational charts and remote camera monitors for various sections of the ship.
The helm had a commanding view of the sea in every direction as well as down onto the ship’s deck—a couple of hundred feet or so behind the control tower stood the Sikorsky helicopter, already lashed down on the small helipad. Beyond that McKinney could see the curving trail of the ship’s wake as they made a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn to the south in pursuit of the Ebba Maersk.
Evans stood at the wheel of the ship, examining computer screens. He glanced up when they entered. “How’s the hijacking going?”
“Don’t touch anything.” Odin nudged him aside.
“Foxy started the turn, and then took off with the crew. What’s going on?”
“He’s escorting them to the escape boat. The captain’s staying.”
Evans raised his eyebrows. “Really. Can I take his place in the lifeboat?”
Odin shook his head. “Mission’s not done yet, Mort.”
The captain had already picked up large binoculars and was scanning the horizon while McKinney sat in a chair next to the navigational charts. The captain spoke while scanning the sea. “Who is your pilot?”
Odin was examining the radar and GPS navigation screens showing ship traffic in the area. “I am. I’m a licensed sea captain.” He then moved alongside McKinney to examine the nav chart as well.
“Where are you heading?”
“In pursuit of the Ebba Maersk.” Odin pressed a finger into the navigational chart. “She’s approximately thirty-three miles southwest of our position, doing roughly eighteen knots. What’s the maximum speed of your ship, Captain?”
“We can do twenty-six in a favorable wind, but we’ll burn twice the tonnage.”
“Saving on fuel costs isn’t high on my priority list.” Odin moved to one of the ship’s control monitors and started changing settings.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Antiterrorism operators need to be able to pose as qualified airport and ship personnel, so we’re cross-trained in the equipment. I’m programming an interception course. When we finish our turn, we go to full speed, heading one-six-eight.”
A phone on the console rang. Odin grabbed it and listened for a moment. “Good. Get the team back here and let’s plan this operation.” He hung up. “Captain, your crew deployed the escape boat successfully. No injuries.”