Page 51 of Wild Tempest

I hustled aft and watched from the viewport in the hatch as the helicopter hovered over the deck and dropped down a tow cable. Rotor blades thumped, and the wash spilled over the deck.

Jack kept watch on the ladderwell.

After a few minutes of squealing, they managed to get the cargo hatch open.

The pilot held the helicopter steady, its rotor blades just clearing the A-frame and the knuckle boom crane. The sea was calm, but it still took skill to maintain position like that.

The team on the ground connected a hook to a pallet of gold.

Now they were in a bit of a pickle. Their greed had outweighed their better judgment. The tactical team would need to get back onto the helicopter. The helicopter couldn't land on the deck—there wasn't enough clearance for the rotor blades. The team would have to shimmy back up the rope, and that would make them vulnerable.

I bided my time and waited.

After a few minutes, the tactical team returned to the main deck. With their heads on swivels, they kept their weapons aimed at Level 02.

From my position, I didn’t have a full view of the aft deck. The crane and upper deck limited my view. But I was pretty sure all of them were on the aft deck now, waiting to take their turn to climb back aboard the helicopter.

I hustled forward to the port side hatch, unlocked it, and stepped onto the side deck. I crept aft and held up at the exhaust stack that towered over the vessel. It concealed my position from the tactical team on the aft deck.

I took a deep breath, then angled my rifle around the stack and took aim at the door gunner. With a quick burst, I took him out.

He fell back into the fuselage.

In a continuous motion, I aimed at the pilot, squeezed off two rounds, then ducked for cover behind the stack as a volley of molten copper spat in my direction.

The bullets peppered the stack.

I must have tagged the pilot. The helicopter wobbled and drifted, starting to yaw. The blades smacked the A-frame and shattered. The Mi-8 spun to its doom and crashed to the aft deck, taking out a few of the goons.

Shards of rotor blades flew in all directions, and the engine whined. The rotors chopped at the deck as fragments continued to spin. A violent and chaotic mess, I wasn’t sure how many goons survived, if any. A rotor fragment to the chest could put a damper on anyone’s day.

I angled my rifle around the stack again.

Smoke billowed from the wreckage. The engine howled until a protection circuit kicked in and cut the engine.

Job done.

I hurried forward on the side deck, stepped back into the superstructure, and secured the hatch. If the remaining goons wanted payback, there was only one way into this structure.

“What the hell happened?” JD asked.

“The eagle has landed,” I said with a grin.

We hovered by the ladderwell, waiting.

It wasn’t long before commotion at the forward starboard hatch drew my attention. A goon hammered the butt of his rifle against the viewport, but he couldn't break through the safety glass.

He moved around to the other hatches and tested them, but couldn’t break through.

From what I could tell, there were two goons left.

A few minutes later, we heard them come up the ladderwell.

JD and I prepared for a breach. He looked like he could barely stand. We held up on either side of the door, ready for them to come through.

A figure crossed the viewport in the ladderwell. They were just on the other side.

They fiddled with something, then footsteps retreated down the ladderwell.