45

WAKE UP!” A VOICE HISSED IN MITCH’S EAR. SOMEONE SHOOK HIS SHOULder. “You must wake up!”

He opened his eyes and saw a blurry face beside him. It was very dark in the bunkroom, and he couldn’t make out the features. He pushed himself up on one elbow, his mind not yet functioning. “Wha’s goin’ on?” he asked in a loud slur.

A hand covered his mouth. He struck out clumsily, but another hand soon pinned his wrist. He thrashed in a vain attempt to get free.

“Wake up!” the voice repeated in an urgent whisper. “You must get up now.”

He heard movement in the bunk below him, followed by Ed’s gravelly whisper. “I’m up. What are you talking about, Cho?”

Mitch stopped struggling and Cho released him.

“You must go to the radio room right now,” Cho said in the darkness. “There will be one man there, but you can surprise him. Lock the door and call your navy. I talk to men outside so they don’t kill you.”

“Hold on a sec,” said Ed. “What’s going on? What are you talking about?”

“There is no time! All are your enemies. They come for you soon. Go, do your plan now!”

A quick movement in the darkness and Cho was gone. The door clicked shut behind him.

Now wide awake, Mitch pulled himself out of bed and dropped to the floor. He had no idea what to make of what just happened. Ed was sitting on his bunk, pulling on pants.

Mitch took his clothes off a hook in the wall and followed Ed’s example. “Are we gonna do what he said?” he asked as he pulled a sweatshirt over his head.

“Still sortin’ that out.” Ed grunted as he bent over to tie his shoes. “I don’t trust him, but what could he be up to? And we’ve gotta do somethin’—he knew what we said to Jenkins, which is very bad news.” He stood up and took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s go.”

They opened the bunkroom door and slipped out into the empty hallway. It was narrow, dark, and full of places where someone could be hiding. Plus, what if there were other bugs or cameras around—like the one that must have captured their conversation with Jenkins? Mitch hoped that Cho had warned the first mate too.

“Let’s go out on deck,” Mitch whispered.

Ed nodded and opened an exterior door. A gust of chill air and rain blew in. Mitch shivered, but at least they would almost certainly have the deck to themselves.

A wet wind blew in Mitch’s face, and he had to shield his eyes to keep from being blinded. Not that it really mattered— the deck was pitch black except for the ship’s running lights and occasional puddles of warm glow coming from the windows of lit rooms.

They stumbled along the rain-slicked deck, holding onto the railing to keep their balance. Mitch banged his shin hard and stifled a curse.

A doorway loomed out of the rainy darkness and Ed motioned for him to stop. They had gone as far as they could outside. They were only about 10 or 15 yards from the radio room, but the rest of the way would be inside and would take them past half a dozen occupied staterooms.

Ed disappeared into the darkness for a moment, then reappeared carrying a wrench and a hammer. He handed the wrench to Mitch. “Let’s go.”

Back inside, a listening quiet seemed to enfold them after the windy night outside. Even the tiny squeaks from their shoes seemed to echo. Mitch tried to breathe quietly.

Light showed under the doors of two staterooms, but the rest were dark. To Mitch’s relief, Jenkins still had his light on. Good—hopefully he’d be ready to join them. Then it would be three against one in the radio room. Mitch liked those odds, even if the Koreans were all kung-fu experts or something.

Ed pointed to Jenkins’s door and muttered something as they passed.

Mitch nodded and opened the door.

Ed grabbed at him frantically. “What are you doing?”

Mitch found himself face-to-face with a huge, tattooed Korean. Before he could react, the man hit him in the stomach. Mitch doubled over and staggered back into the wall on the other side of the hall. Something crashed into the back of his skull and he collapsed to the floor.

He lay there for several seconds, stunned and gasping for breath. Sounds of shouting and fighting filled the air above him.

Mitch pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. Black spots filled his vision and his head spun. But he had to get back up. He had to. It couldn’t end like this.

He staggered to his feet and saw the big Korean wrestling with Ed. He picked up the hammer from the floor and lunged forward. The Korean’s back was to him. One good blow from the hammer and—

Someone grabbed him from behind. A strong hand gripped his right wrist and smashed his hand against the wall. The hammer fell to the floor with a clang.

Mitch started to turn to face his attacker, but a huge fist smashed into his jaw. He fell again, his mouth full of jagged pain and blood.

A thick arm looped around his neck and squeezed. He twisted and fought, but it was no use. The black spots returned and grew. His strength faded.

The last thing he heard was Jenkins’s voice in his ear. “Sorry, Mitch. Nothing personal.”

Then it was over.