Patriot games - Tom Clancy [271]
The Hostage Rescue Team arrived next. They found the Marines and state troopers on the deck, working their way aft. It took a few minutes to determine that no one was in the container stacks. The remaining four ULA members had used an alleyway to head aft, and were probably in the superstructure. Werner took over. He had a solid perimeter. Nobody was going anywhere. Another group of FBI agents went forward to collect the terrorists.
Three TV news trucks arrived on the scene, adding their lights to the ones turning night into day on the dock. The police were keeping them back, but already live news broadcasts were being sent worldwide. A colonel of the State Police was giving out a press release at the moment. The situation, he, told the cameras, was under control, thanks to a little luck and a lot of good police work.
By this time all the terrorists forward were handcuffed and had been searched. The agents read off their constitutional rights while three of their number went into the boat to collect their weapons and other evidence. The Prince finally came up the ladder, with a heavy guard. He came to where the terrorists were sitting, now. He looked at them for a minute or so but didn't say a word. He didn't have to.
"Okay, we have things contained aft. There seems to be four of them. That's what the crew says," one of the HRT people said. "They're below somewhere, and we'll have to talk them out. It shouldn't be too hard, and we have all the time in the world."
"How do we get these characters off?" Sergeant Powers asked.
"We haven't worked that out yet, but let's get the civilians off. We'd prefer you did it from here. It might be a little dangerous to use the aft ladder. That means the Marines, too. Thanks for the assist. Captain."
"I hope we didn't screw anything up, joining in, I mean."
The agent shook his head. "You didn't break any laws that I know of. We got all the evidence we need, too."
"Okay, then we head back to Annapolis."
"Fine. There'll be a team of agents waiting to interview you there. Please thank the boat crew for us."
"Sar-Major, let's get the people moving."
"Okay, Marines, saddle up," Breckenridge called. Two minutes later everyone was aboard the patrol boat, heading out of the harbor. The rain had finally ended and the sky was clearing, the cooler Canadian air finally breaking the heat wave that had punished the area. The Marines took the opportunity to climb into the boat's bunks. Chief Znamirowski and her crew handled the driving. Ryan and the rest congregated in the galley and started drinking the coffee that no one had touched to this point.
"Long day," Jackson said. He checked his watch. "I'm supposed to fly in a few hours. Well, I was, anyway."
"Looks like we finally won a round," Captain Peters observed.
"It wasn't cheap." Ryan stared into his cup.
"It's never cheap, sir," Breckenridge said after a few seconds.
The boat rumbled with increased engine power. Jackson lifted a phone and asked why they were speeding up. He smiled at the answer, but said nothing.
Ryan shook his head to clear it and went topside. Along the way he found a crewman's pack of cigarettes on a table and stole one. He proceeded out onto the fantail. Baltimore Harbor was already low on the horizon, and the boat was turning south toward Annapolis, chugging along at thirteen knots-about fifteen miles per hour, but on a boat it seemed fast enough. The smoke he blew out made its own trail as he stared aft. Was Breckenridge right? he asked the sky. The answer came in a moment. He got one part right. I'm not cut out to be a murderer. Maybe he was right on the other part, too. I sure hope so
"Tired, Jack?" the Prince asked, standing beside him.
"I ought to be, but I guess I'm still too pumped up."
"Indeed," His Highness observed quietly. "I wanted to ask them why. When I went up to look at them, I wanted-"
"Yeah." Ryan took a last drag and flipped the butt over the side. "You could ask, but I doubt the answer would mean much of anything."
"Then how are we supposed to solve the problem?"