Chapter 13 — Fire and Ice

As she reached the top of the stairwell leading to the main deck, Sarah stopped for a moment to listen. The only sound save the quiet lap of the waves against the hull of the yacht was her beating heart. The radio was quiet and the deck was devoid of human sound.

They were together somewhere, most likely one of the staterooms.

Stepping out onto the deck, she was greeted by the chill of the night air. Perhaps more than a tank top would have been more appropriate she wondered, feeling her skin goose pimple.

Approaching the stern at a creep, she saw 2 ribs* tied up at the small dive platform.

Slipping down onto the platform, she placed her weapon on the deck, waiting and listening for any sound. Confident she was alone; she slipped aboard the ribs and disconnected the fuel lines on both craft. Collecting her weapon, Sarah slowly retraced her steps to the main deck of the yacht.

She would head for the comms room, and hope that they hadn’t either stationed men there, or sabotaged it. But as they assumed all were accounted for and under control, she hoped they were lax in their security.

Slowly climbing the ladder to the upper deck, she heard footsteps approaching. Freezing, she waited, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain she would be heard.

A man walked slowly down the deck with rifle slung. They were not entirely stupid she mused. Slowly slinging her rifle across her back, she pulled the combat knife from the vest, and waited quietly. If the man got closer, she would have to dispatch him.

The man casually wandered towards her, his eyes cast out over the ocean. There was a dim flicker of red on the horizon; it was the early morning she surmised, this made things difficult. The shroud of night was withdrawing; her window of action was narrow.

As the man drew level with her position. She slowly crept up the remainder of the steps and moved behind him.

As the man coughed, she sprang forwards and slid her knife into the side of his neck to the hilt, violently ripping it forwards removing his trachea and severing his jugular, a swift and silent death for the hapless and entirely unwelcome guest. She was done with interrogating now. These were clearly foreign, hostile, and uninvited. Playtime was over.

With a gargle, the man slumped quietly to the deck assisted by Sarah so as to quietly the sound. Checking him, she removed several magazines from his gear, and a smoke grenade attached to his belt, stashing the body in a dark corner more out of habit than any attempt at covering up the killing. The deck was covered in the man’s blood. She cursed herself for not snapping his neck.

The dead intruders would be missed, and any person that came past this part of the deck would immediately know something was amiss, her window was even smaller. At least until she went noisy.

Popping the latch on one of the doors into the upper deck of the yacht, she checked and made sure the coast was clear. Discovering the passageway was empty, she entered and latched the door.

The communications room was at the end of this hallway. As she approached the door she heard a voice. “Yes, it's all gone fine. We have them, and we have men securing the daughter as we speak.”

“Yes”

“Yes, I'll report in when we depart, do you still want us to sink the ship?”

“Yes. Ok, Out”

Peering into the room, she saw the fist non Arab intruder. The man was white, clearly not Middle Eastern, and somewhat geeky. His combats looked uncomfortable on him, and the weapon was well out of his reach. Some techy loser drafted in for the mission, she deduced.

Slipping into the compartment, she raised her pistol and with it trained on the man’s head, closed the compartment door.

As the door clanged shut, the man spun around, only to go whiter than his pale complexion. “Wh, who are you?”

“That my friend, is not important,” she leered. “Why don’t you tell me who you are? I insist, guests first.”

“I uh, I’m just here to provide technical services, I’m not involved in the other stuff,” he spluttered.”

“What other stuff.”

“Kidnapping the prime minister and his family.”

“For once, a straight answer. Your friends were not very forthcoming.” Sarah grinned as she pressed the muzzle of the pistol against the man’s forehead, forcing him to lean back further in the swivel chair.

“Are you sure that’s all you know? To be quite frank, I have every right to put a bullet in your brain.”

The man swallowed and glanced sideways at his rifle, leaning against the far bulkhead.

Following his eyes, she laughed quietly. “Please try. I don’t quite think you can beat a 9mm hollow point down this barrel however,” she purred, a fire dancing in her eyes.

“I wasn’t I swear.” The man gulped.

“Who were you talking to on the radio?” she pressed. “And don’t tell me it was your mother. Though I would tell her you love her before you die, however.”

The man managed miraculously to pale even further, and an ominous stain spread across his trousers. “I, I was reporting to my boss, I uh, our boss, how things were progressing. We have to give regular updates on the operation.” He whimpered, going cross-eyed staring down the pistol’s barrel.

“Please don’t kill me,” he whispered.

“I won’t kill you if you tell me who you are working for,” she prompted, pressing the steel of the barrel further against his forehead.

“I don’t know. Honestly, we just report in to ‘base’ I promise I don’t know.” The man looked terrified. “Hang on, are you that transvestite soldier we were told about?” a sly smirk spread onto his thin lips, as he forgot for a moment the silenced pistol pressed against his forehead.

“Oh well, I lied.” Sarah sighed as she pulled the trigger.

The man slumped back into the chair as the round destroyed his brain.

Wiping the muzzle of her pistol, she grimaced. Why couldn’t people be more tolerant? Especially when in such a disadvantaged position. You would think pissing off the angry woman with a gun was a bad idea, no?

Moving to the bank of Radios, she dialled in the frequency for her home operating base, one committed to memory. “Hawk’s Nest this is Rosefern, We have a code red. I repeat, code RED. Does anyone copy?”

Sarah waited for a reply, the static on the line almost deafening.

“Rosefern this is Hawk’s Nest, what is your status.”

With a sigh of relief. She did a silent happy dance as she clicked the call button on the mike. “Hawk’s Nest, Rosefern. The Package is compromised. Unknown number of assailants aboard the yacht. Status of my team, the Premier and his wife is unknown, Premier’s daughter is safe. Assailants are mixed; some are Palestinian, and some Caucasian of unknown origin. All are armed with automatic weapons. The yacht is stopped and I am unsure of our location, Over.”

“Rosefern, Hawk’s Nest. We copy status. Dispatching teams Gimel and Dalet to your location. Eta, 0500.”

Sarah glanced at the clock on the wall, it was 0340 at the moment. 'Damn, an hour and 20 minutes to hold out before the backup teams arrive.' “Hawk’s Nest, Rosefern, Copy last. Will standby. Inform the teams they can contact me on 129.3 when they are in range for UHF. Rosefern Out.”

Sarah reluctantly set the handset down. She felt so close right now. That tie to home. She wasn’t alone. For the first time since she had been thrown into this soup, she felt truly scared. Small… insignificant … Alone ….

A tear rolled down her cheek. Dabbing it with her finger, she sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “God, why me?” she groaned. Part of her wished she could just be a captive, at least she wouldn’t have to be so self reliant. She just felt that the pressure of the past few days had been doubled by this. She was being asked to do something that even a sane healthy trooper would have a hard time completing. Yet it was up to her; just her. She knew full well this would be over inside an hour.

Screwing up her courage. She gritted her teeth as she opened the door from the comms room. “Time to save the fucking day,” she muttered to herself. “They so owe me leave after this.”

Moving with a mixture of apprehension and resolve. She neared the bridge. Ducking into a side passage, she waited, listening to the conversation ahead. There were two voices, both speaking Arabic. One was a native speaker, the other was not. The other sounded like Major Thesik…

‘I knew it.’ She thought to herself. ‘That bastard is mine.’

The two were discussing ways to proceed. Apparently, the crew and passengers were below deck, in the second stateroom of the yacht. The major was discussing with his accomplice which port to make for. After making some decision that Sarah couldn’t quite make out, she heard the major leave the bridge, and left the other crewman alone, or at least whoever was in there, alone.

Shortly after, she heard the Yacht’s engine roar to life.

'Shit, the helicopters will be heading for the wrong location, unless they can be updated on the GPS location by home base.' Sarah had to work off a premise that they could not. Anyway, it was IAF pilots. They had a tendency to get lost going to the bathroom. She couldn’t trust them to get this right.

Making her way back down the passage, she descended a deck. Slipping into the galley, she made her way towards the serving lift at the rear. She could make an entrance to the second stateroom unannounced. No, it would be stupid. They would expect that…

Removing the smoke grenade from her belt, she placed it in the small lift car. Tying a length of string around the pin, she tied that to a kitchen work surface nearby. Sliding the door shut on the lift, making sure the string was all inside, she hit the descend button.

Grabbing a towel from the rack, she quietly but swiftly made her way down the main stairwell, her rifle tucked into her shoulder, ready.

As she turned the corner, she could see the stateroom’s doors ahead. There was a fine mist of smoke drifting under the door, and what sounded like a riot taking place inside.

Grinning, she pulled the towel out of her pocket, and tied it around her lower face, covering her mouth and nose.

Moving forward, she approached the door. “Now or never,” she muttered, taking a deep breath.

With a well placed kick, like a cobra striking, she kicked the door open, moving forward with practiced ease.

Through the smokey haze, she saw her gamble was not misplaced. There were several guards, but all were standing, as opposed to the bound and seated hostages.

Lining up the first of the attackers in her sights; she unleashed a burst of lead into the man.

Without pause, she moved through the other 3 terrorists, cutting the men down like sheaves of wheat.

Moving across the room, she swept the hostages visually, all were bound, terrorist or not, they were not going anywhere. Continuing, she swept the room, the smoke now thinning. Confident that there was no further threat, she removed the towel from her face, and moved towards the hostages. All seemed to want freeing at once.

Ari just sat quietly, shaking his head; a cheesy grin across his lips. Sarah felt a strange flutter in her stomach seeing him alive. “Well it's about time you got out of that bed. I was beginning to wonder if we would have to cut you from it,” he smirked.

“Nice to see you, too.” With a look of mock distain on her face as she knelt to cut his bonds.

Rubbing his wrists, Ari stood, and taking Sarah’s face in his hands, kissed her softly on the lips. Gone was the hard cold unfeeling soldier; Sarah’s floodgates had broken. As they kissed, tears rolled down her cheeks; a mixture of pain, joy and fear.

“EHEM.”

Breaking away from Ari’s embrace, Sarah turned towards the group, blushing a deep crimson.

“If you’re done playing grab assy, I’d like cutting loose some time this week,” smirked Sergeant Goni.

*RIB: Rigid inflatable boat. A solid hulled dingy with inflatable portion of the hull. A step up from inflatable boats. Usually slightly bigger and favoured by amphibious groups for quiet and fast transport, either powered by an outboard engine or oars.

Note from the Author: Thanks for your kind words guys! I really appreciate all the comments. Sorry I don’t post up chapters fast enough, I’m rather busy atm, I just moved house. And I don’t have internet at home, so I have to use a university PC if I want to get online… I’ll try to get them posted faster or more often. But don’t rush an artist! Hehe.

Keep commenting guys. I honestly love your replies, and they inspire me to keep going.

Alyssa