Page 27 of Grayson

At the galley landing, a burst from an automatic weapon chewed sparks from the wall. The children dropped as one.

“Contact front!” Brunson shouted. Hunter shoved a serving cart across the passage for cover.

“Sonny, get them back!” Hunter and Brunson moved through the confusion, forcing the shooter into the pantry. A final crash came from behind the swinging door.

“Clear,” Brunson called, but nobody rose until Hunter answered, “Move.”

The bridge held the captain and three, armed men barricaded behind overturned chairs. Sonny cut the power to the bridge deck, and Hunter entered through the chart room while Brunson drew their attention from the wing. In less than a minute, the bridge was secure and the ship’s radio was transmitting its position on an emergency channel.

On the boat deck, wind snapped at the raft covers. Brunson and Sonny released the canisters and hauled the inflation lines until the life rafts opened below in bright orange domes. Hunter secured the boarding ladder and tested every knot himself.

The children went first, passed hand to hand into the waiting rafts. The women followed, some carrying the smaller children beneath zipped coats, others refusing to descend until every child was accounted for. Sonny counted them twice and found the numbers matched.

Far off, a white light appeared and vanished between the swells, the rescue vessel answering the beacon. Hunter looked toward it, then back at the freighter. Smoke had begun to breathe from an aft vent where the damaged systems were failing.

U-Jin set an equipment bag on the deck and opened it. Hunter caught his arm.

“No. We have the people. We leave.” U-Jin shook his head and pointed toward the hold full of rifles, chemicals, and records.

“If they recover this ship, another one sails next week.”

“How long?” Brunson asked. U-Jin checked the waterproof timer.

“Six minutes once I start it.” Sonny stared at the smoke thickening aft.

“You’ll have three.” Brunson handed him the waterproof timer.

“If you miss the water, I’m not climbing back up there.” U-Jin clipped it to his vest.

“You’d miss me.”

“I’d miss complaining about you.” Hunter held U-Jin’s gaze for a moment.

“Three minutes. Then we turn back.”

U-Jin gave a small salute and disappeared through the hatch as the red emergency lights swallowed him.

The rafts pulled away under small electric motors, towing one another through the freighter’s shadow. Hunter stood at the stern line, scanning the rail. The women huddled around the children while Sonny kept the beacon aimed toward the approaching rescue lights.

Brunson watched the luminous face of his wristwatch.

“Two minutes.” Sonny kept the raft’s bow pointed into the swell.

“He knows.”

“One minute.” Hunter’s eyes never left the freighter.

“Turn us around.” Sonny hesitated.

“Hunter—”

“Turn us around.”

The raft began to circle back when a dull impact sounded inside the freighter, followed by a hiss of escaping steam. No figure appeared at the rail.

“Thirty seconds,” Brunson said.

Hunter reached for the boarding line. Then a hatch high on the aft deck slammed open.