Maltese Vengeance by John Cutter

Author:John Cutter [Cutter, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lume Books
Published: 2015-07-05T23:00:00+00:00

10: Pirating the Pirates

Tryst was admiring the gold in the steel box when Sullivan hissed at him, “Here they come.” The gold Gortner’s men had brought for the ship only added up to about thirty thousand dollars’ worth. Just a down payment. Not as much as he’d hoped.

Tryst checked the clip on the M16 and moved to the door of the truck cab.

Sullivan waited statue-still in the rear of the truck.

There were a lot of ways this ambush could go wrong. If they were forced to fire on these men, it would alert the yacht…

Sullivan was just inside the open back of the truck, pressed against the tarp covering. Two black men were pulling the boat onto the beach. They got it wedged into place and turned to slosh up toward the truck. Each wore a dark blue sailor’s uniform. Both carried M2 carbines on straps over their shoulders. The carbines had pistol grips and wire stocks. They were American-made, modified by some African gunsmith; weapons of this sort frequently popped up in terrorist and smuggling operations.

“Over here, boys!” Tryst called from the front of the truck.

The two black men looked at one another and unslung their rifles. They should have split up and moved to either side of the truck toward the front. They made the mistake frightened men make — they stayed together.

They went around to Sullivan’s right.

Sullivan had the Mauser in one hand and the HK94 in the other. He stepped from the rear of the truck onto the concrete of the boat ramp. The surf sounds muted the slight noise he made. He stepped up behind the two men and pressed the two gun muzzles to the back of their necks.

“Drop your guns!” he barked. They probably didn’t understand the words, but his tone and the feel of the guns were unmistakable. The men stiffened, then dropped the M2’s to the ground. Tryst came around from the front of the truck, the M16 at the ready in his hands. “Good evening, lads. Back to the boat, now. We’re going out to the yacht … You understand English?”

Both men shook their heads.

Sullivan laughed. “You understand. Get in the boat — moving slow — or I’ll blow your spines up into your teeth.”

The men turned — slowly — and went to the small boat. One of them carried an unlit flashlight, which Tryst confiscated. Sullivan hoped it was too dark for the men on the yacht — if anyone were watching — to see what was happening on the beach. The shadow from the headland was deep here. Sullivan and Tryst could see well enough, since their eyes had adjusted after the long wait in the darkness.

They held the guns on their prisoners as they launched the boat.

There was just room enough for four men in the boat. “You — take the tiller. You sit at the bow,” Sullivan commanded. “Ollie, we’d better sit back to back in the middle so we can see what these gents are up to.

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