Warshot (The Hunter Killer Series Book 6) by Don Keith (top ten ebook reader TXT) 📗

are out of ammo and bingo fuel. Two reports the same. We’re heading back to refuel and re-arm in case you need us back here. Looks like those Chinese are heading your way on the double quick. Recommend you make yourself scarce. Good luck.”

“Roger, thanks, Mike Hotel One. We’ll let you...” The colonel was interrupted by the sound of Chinese marines running down Tu’i Road, shooting in the direction of the ship as they grew closer. “We’ll update you. Thanks.”

Bill Bix ran straight to the bridge, promising it would only take a minute to remove whatever hex he had put on the ship’s controls. Meanwhile, Rex Smith, back in his element, took command. Pointing to two Marines, he ordered, “You two, use the fire axes to cut those lines!” He turned to Colonel Readly. “Bill will get her started and head us out of here while I get busy and bring up the nav systems. I think you guys need to play soldier while we drive the ship.”

“We’ll see if we can discourage these guys from shooting at us,” Readly told him.

Ramirez and his team took whatever cover they could find and returned the fire, even as the ship suddenly came to life and began backing away from the pier. It was not a time to worry about scratching paint, damaging a wharf, or denting the hull as the research vessel needed to quickly head down the channel and away from the Chinese marines before they could set up and fire something more damaging and deadly than bullets from their rifles.

The forward camel groaned in protest as Deep Ocean Explorer pivoted on it and backed away from the wharf. The bow was barely clear when Bill Bix slammed the starboard throttle to “Full Forward,” port “Full Back,” and the rudder to “Hard Left.” The research vessel, not designed for speed or maneuverability, lurched forward a couple of yards before the bow started to swing around, even as bullets pinged off her hull.

The Chinese charged forward, taking cover in the farmers’ market while now concentrating their fire on the bridge in an attempt to keep the ship from escaping. Ramirez’s fire team shot back, spraying the area to convince the Chinese to keep their heads down.

The bow missed the wharf by mere inches as it swung around. Dodging breaking glass and ducking low, Bix jammed both throttles to “Full Ahead” and swung the rudder to fair up with the outbound channel. Just then, an RPG round arced up and over the ship, exploding harmlessly in the water beyond.

Deep Ocean Explorer was just starting to round Utules Point when the Chinese dared to come out of their cover and ran out onto the pier. But now all they could do was watch the ship disappear around the bend.

Bill Bix steered them around the point and headed down the center of the Teleki Channel, whistling happily. He had his ship back and beneath him. He would soon pick up his crew in Samoa.

Dr. Rex Smith stood at the rail on the vessel’s upper deck, still catching his breath and allowing the cool night sea breeze to dry the sweat from the unexpected jog. He watched the stars above, especially bright with the lack of light pollution and smog in this part of the world. He could not wait until he could once again referee the clashes between his dedicated group of scientists and technicians as they all did their best to unravel the mysteries of the world’s great oceans.

Colonel Stanton Readly, Sergeant Fernando Ramirez, and the rest of the US Marines ate energy bars and then settled onto mats on the open deck in an effort to catch a few winks. If the last few hours told them anything, it was that there would likely be more battles soon. They best be prepared. But with hostages safely on their way to American Samoa and with no casualties, despite a hot firefight, this mission had been a success.

The open water of the Pacific was still seven miles away and at least an hour’s steaming through the tortuously narrow channel. However, they were safe now. Safe and on their way to whatever was next.

22

The big black Mercedes limousine elbowed its way through thick Beijing evening traffic so it could make a right turn from Wudaoying Hutong onto Yonghegong Street. It then pulled to a stop almost immediately, much to the displeasure of several other drivers who had to jump on their brakes after making the same turn. The driver ignored the honking horns and angry stares as he hopped out of the car and hurried around the limo to open the passenger door on the curb side.

The horn-blowing and shouting stopped as the miffed drivers watched Li Min Zhou step from the Mercedes limo. She dismissed the driver with a wave of her hand.

Min Zhou stood there for a moment, considering her surroundings, seemingly admiring the neighborhood but actually looking for anything that did not belong. Anything that would pose a threat. She glanced at the dun-colored, stone-walled exterior of the traditional siheyuan courtyard house where they had stopped. Satisfied, she stepped up to the ornately carved, wooden, red-and-gold-painted entrance portal. As prescribed by feng shui, the entrance was on the southeast corner of the house. A doorman, dressed in the gold-embroidered silk bufu surcoat of an Imperial Court functionary, stood by the Guangliang Gate, the entrance traditionally reserved for the comings and goings of high court officials. Only the Wangfu—or Emperor’s—Gate would be considered superior.

As she walked his way, the doorman bowed deeply and swung open the massive bright red door. He greeted her in formal Court Mandarin.

“This lowly servant welcomes the respected madam to the King Joy Restaurant.”

Li Min Zhou smiled at the restaurant’s attempts to leverage the flavor of the Forbidden City, which was only a couple of blocks away, and to summon up a bit of ancient Chinese atmosphere. It would certainly impress visiting businessmen or foreign governmental officials