“We were at Jack’s place for dinner,” Robby explained. “And some folks crashed the party. They were after him –” Jackson gestured to the Prince of Wales, who turned and smiled. Breckenridge’s eyes went wide in recognition. His mouth flapped open for a moment, but he recovered and did what Marines always do when they don’t know what else — he saluted, just as prescribed in the ‘Guide Book’. Robby went on: “They killed a bunch of security troops. We got lucky. They planned to escape by boat. We stole one and came here, but there’s another boat out there, full of the bastards. They might have followed us.”
“Armed with what?” the Sergeant Major asked.
“Like this, Gunny.” Ryan held up his Uzi.
The Sergeant Major nodded and reached into his coat. His hand came out with a radio. “Guardroom, this is Breckenridge. We have a Class-One Alert: Wake up all the people. Call Captain Peters. I want a squad of riflemen on the seawall in five minutes. Move out!”
“Roger,” the radio answered. “Class-One Alert.”
“Let’s get the women the hell outa here,” Ryan urged.
“Not yet, sir,” Breckenridge replied. He looked around, his professional eye making a quick evaluation. “I want some more security here first. Your friends might have landed upriver and be coming overland — that’s how I’d do it. In ten minutes I’ll have a platoon of riflemen sweepin’ the grounds, maybe a full squad here in five. If my people ain’t too drunked out,” he concluded quietly, reminding Ryan that it was indeed a Friday night — Saturday morning — and Annapolis had many bars. “Cummings and Foster, look after the ladies. Mendoza, get on one of these boats and keep a lockout. Y’all heard the man, so stay awake!”
Breckenridge walked up and down the seawall for a minute, checking fields of view and fields of fire. The .45 Colt automatic looked small in his hands. They could see in his face that he didn’t like the situation, and wouldn’t until he had more people here and the civilians tucked safely away. Next he checked the women out.
“You ladies all right — oh, sorry, Mrs. Jackson. We’ll get you to the sick bay real quick, ma’am.”
“Any way to turn the lights off?” Ryan asked.
“Not that I know of — I don’t like being under ’em either. Settle down. Lieutenant, we got all this open ground behind us, so nobody’s going to sneak up this way. Soon as I get things organized, we’ll get the ladies off to the dispensary and put a guard on ’em. You ain’t as safe as I’d like, but we’re gettin’ there. How did you get away?”
“Like Robby said, we got lucky. He did two of them with the shotgun. I got one in the boat. The other one got popped by his own man.” Ryan shivered, this time not from wind or rain. “It was kinda hairy there for a while.”
“I believe it. These guys any good?”
“The terrorists? You tell me. They had surprise going for them before, and that counts for a lot.”
“We’ll see about that.” Breckenridge nodded.
“There’s a boat out there!” It was Mendoza, up on one of the YPs.
“Okay, boys,” the Sergeant Major breathed, holding his .45 up alongside his head. “Just wait another couple of minutes, till we get some real weapons here.”
“They’re coming in slow,” the Marine called.
Breckenridge’s first look was to make sure the women were safely behind cover. Then he ordered everyone to spread out and pick an open spot between the moored boats. “And for Christ’s sake keep your damned heads down!”
Ryan picked a spot for himself. The others did the same, at intervals of from ten to over a hundred feet apart. He felt the reinforced-concrete seawall with his hand. He was sure it would stop a bullet. The four sailors from the YP duty section stayed with the women, with a Marine on either side. Breckenridge was the only one moving, crouching behind the seawall, following the white shape of the moving boat. He got to Ryan.
“There, about eighty yards out, going left to right. They’re trying to figure things out, too. Just give me a couple more minutes, people,” he whispered.
“Yeah.” Ryan thumbed off the safety, one eye above the lip of the concrete. It was just a white outline, but he could hear the muted sputter of the engine. The boat turned in toward where Robby had tied up the one they’d stolen. It was their first real mistake. Jack thought.
“Great.” The Sergeant Major leveled his automatic, shielded by the stern of a boat. “Okay, gentlemen. Come on if you’re coming . . . ”
Another pickup truck approached on Sims Drive. It came up without lights and stopped right by the women. Eight men jumped off the back. Two Marines ran along the seawall, and were illuminated by a light between two of the moored YPs. Out on the water, the small boat lit up with muzzle flashes, and both Marines went down. Bullets started hitting the moored boats around them. Breckenridge turned and yelled.
“Fire!” The area exploded with noise. Ryan spotted on the flashes and depressed his trigger with care. The submachine gun fired four rounds before locking open on an empty magazine. He cursed and stared stupidly at the weapon before he realized that he had a loaded pistol in his belt. He got the Browning up and fired a single shot before he realized that the target wasn’t there anymore. The noise from the boat’s motor increased dramatically.
“Cease fire! Cease fire! They’re buggin’ out,” Breckenridge called. “Anybody hit?”
“Over here!” someone called to the right, where the women were.
Ryan followed the Sergeant Major over. Two Marines were down, one with a flesh wound in the arm, but the other had taken a round right through the hip and was screaming like a banshee. Cathy was already looking at him.
“Mendoza, what’s happening?” Breckenridge called.
“They’re heading out — wait — yeah, they’re moving east!”
“Move your hands, soldier,” Cathy was saying. The Private First-Class had taken a painful hit just below the belt on his left side. “Okay, okay, you’re going to be all right. It hurts, but we can fix it.” Breckenridge reached down to take the man’s rifle. He tossed it to Sergeant Cummings.
“Who’s in command here?” demanded Captain Mike Peters.
“I guess I am,” Robby said.
“Christ, Robby, what’s going on?”
“What the hell does it look like!”
Another truck arrived, carrying another six Marines. They took one collective look at the wounded men and yanked at the charging handles on their rifles.
“Goddammit, Robby — sir!” Captain Peters yelled.
“Terrorists. They tried to get us at Jack’s place. They were trying to get — well, look!”
“Good evening, Captain,” the Prince said after checking his wife. “Did we get any? I didn’t have a clear shot.” His voice showed real disappointment at that.
“I don’t know, sir,” Breckenridge answered. “I saw some rounds go short, and pistol stuff won’t penetrate a boat like that.” Another series of lightning flashes illuminated the area.
“I see ’em, they’re going out to the bay!” Mendoza called.
“Damn!” Breckenridge growled. “You four, get the ladies over to the dispensary.” He bent down to help the Princess to her feet as Robby lifted his wife. “You want to give the little girl to the Private, ma’am? They’re going to take you to the hospital and get you all dried off.”
Ryan saw that his wife was still trying to help one of the wounded Marines, then looked at the patrol boat in front of him. “Robby?”
“Yeah, Jack?”
“Does this boat have radar?”
Chief Znamirowski answered. “They all do, sir.”
A Marine lowered the tailgate on the one pickup and helped Jackson load his wife aboard. “What are you thinking, Jack?”
“How fast are they?”
“About thirteen — I don’t think they’re fast enough.”
Chief Bosun’s Mate Znamirowski looked over the seawall at the boat Robby had steered in. “In the seas we got now, you bet I can catch one of those little things! But I need someone to work the radar. I don’t have an operator in my section right now.”
“I can do that,” the Prince offered. He was tired of being a target, and no one would keep him out of this. “It would be a pleasure in fact.”
“Robby, you’re senior here,” Jack said.
“Is it legal?” Captain Peters asked, fingering his automatic.
“Look,” Ryan said quickly, “we just had an armed attack by foreign nationals on a U.S. government reservation — that’s an act of war and posse commitatus doesn’t apply.” At least I don’t think it does, he thought. “Can you think of a good reason not to go after them?”
He couldn’t. “Chief Z, you have a boat ready?” Jackson asked.
“Hell, yes, we can take the seventy-six boat.”