Hunter Killer - Alex King Series 12 (2021), A BATEMAN [urban books to read TXT] 📗

ran from the stairwell breathlessly. He had a rifle in his hands, the same standard Browning A-Bolt .30-06 model that King had rented back at the gun shop back in Longyearbyen. “Get my equipment,” he snapped at nobody in particular, but all three ran back to the mooring and heaved the bags back to him. King took out the Leatherman knife he had purchased at the gun shop in Longyearbyen and worked his way among the row of RIBs which were all hauled out for storage. He pulled out the anchors and the six-feet lengths of chain and sliced through the ropes attaching them with the razor-sharp blade. He tossed the anchors onto the galvanised steel grating floor and shouted for Grainger when he returned with one of the bags to get the rescue RIB ready for launch. “Rashid get my equipment aboard! Madeleine, load those anchors!” King shouted as he heaved the last of the anchors at her feet, then turned to watch the two boats, but could no longer see the first. He estimated the second RIB to be five-hundred metres distant.

Grainger started the engines and detached the craft from the automatic mechanical arm. He used a little throttle to square the boat to the bottom of the ladder, then feathered the throttle to match the swells, and keep the boat steady. Rashid dropped the first heavy bag into the centre of the boat, then climbed the ladder to fetch the second bag. The RIB was essentially a solid fibreglass hulled craft with inflatable sides that were multi-chambered to withstand several punctures, the advantages of the design giving rigidity and lightness, as well as rendering it unsinkable. The second bag was dropped beside the first and Rashid climbed the rest of the way down the ladder. Madeleine looked at King with uncertainty.

“Go on!” he shouted. “We don’t have much time!”

Madeleine shouldered her bag and caught hold of the ladder. “But I still don’t know what we’re doing!” She shook her head and hurried down, where Rashid caught hold of her and steadied her into the boat.

King slid down the ladder, clutching the sides with his hands and clamping his feet on either side. He landed heavily and shouted to Grainger. “Here, give me the controls,” he snapped. He pushed the throttle forwards and the engines roared into life, the bow coming up steeply. “Rashid, get ready on the rifle!”

“On it,” Rashid replied, loading the Browning magazine with three bullets. He worked the bolt, checked the safety, and ejected the magazine to load another and give him four bullets at his disposal. The small magazine capacity was an unfamiliar trait compared to the rifles he used and trained with, but he reflected that the rifle had been designed for hunting and not for combat. “Who’s in the second boat?”

“I have a suspicion, but I’m not certain. But if the first boat is being driven by the Iranian, then I think we can be sure how he’s getting home…”

“And if it isn’t?”

King thought of the tiny reconnaissance submarine docked on top of the British submarine. He had known that returning to the rig carried its risks. There had been nothing more he could have done down there. He couldn’t have dived at that depth and he certainly wouldn’t have been able to get on board the Iranian vessel. Capturing Shirazi had been his first thought, but if the Iranian was supporting the submarine from the surface, then he would need a ticket out of there. But had Shirazi fled because King and Grainger had been seen? The reconnaissance craft would undoubtedly be equipped with cameras and certainly would have been able to fire upon them, and if the hunter-killer fired upon them in the submersible, or upon the support boat, then they would give themselves away and risk a full-scale military retaliation. No, the Iranian submarine commander would have calculated the time it would take them to return to the Aurora rigs and by then, they could alert their asset and he could head for the rendezvous. Which meant the Iranian submarine was close.

“We just have to hope it is,” replied King. “They wouldn’t steal the missiles or the warheads and risk leaving their asset behind. It would be too risky. He could be captured and interrogated before they made it through the Northern Sea Route and by then, the Yanks could hunt them on the other side from their bases in Alaska. No, Hormuzd Shirazi is on that first boat for certain.”

“Then who the hell is on that second RIB?” Rashid settled the rifle on the edge of the control panel and squinted through the monochrome hue ahead. “Friend or foe?”

King said nothing.

Friend or foe, indeed.

Chapter Forty-Four

 

Hormuzd Shirazi glanced behind him and saw the RIB gaining on him. He was not well-versed with boats and he had found that the bow was riding too high to cope with the speed. Each time he neared full throttle, the bow rode so high that the engine almost immersed itself in the freezing water. He worked the throttle forwards gently and again, the bow pointed skywards. He looked for something heavy to shift into the forward third portion of the boat, but there was nothing substantial. Instead, he slowed the boat down, engaged neutral and drifted while he picked up the AR-15 and shouldered it. The scope was a x4 magnification, and he could see the man behind the control console. He did not recognise him, but he had just killed a man to steal the boat and he suspected there would soon be more people on the way.

Shirazi fired three shots and the pursuing craft veered to the right. He tracked and fired another four rounds. He could not see if he hit the boat, but he didn’t see any plumes of water indicating a miss. The boat veered again and this time Shirazi fired