Free Target Response by William W. Johnstone, J. A. Johnstone Page A

for the weapon’s transverse sweep.
    T’gai stood at the stern machine gun post, grinning wolfishly as he swung the muzzle into line with the oncoming boat.
    Sergeant Ajani hefted his assault rifle, leveling it at the motorboat.
    Krentz hefted a fire ax. “I’ll cut the anchor line—”
    The flat-bottomed boat suddenly switched on its bow-mounted searchlight. A white beam of brilliancy stabbed across the narrowing water at the gunboat.
    Behind the glare could be seen the outline of two human forms. They sat rigidly upright in the pilot’s and passenger’s forward seats, motionless, unflinching. From behind and between them erupted a stream of rifle autofire.
    Rounds cut the air above the gunboat. Krentz dropped the ax to take hold of a searchlight by its handles, swinging it around on its stand to pin the attacker.
    A line of slugs ripped into the searchlight, shattering the lens and snuffing out its beam. Krentz cried out, cursing as his face and hands were sprayed with broken glass, and he fell back.
    “They’re going to ram us—shoot!” Thurlow yelled.
    Sergeant Ajani opened fire on the nearing boat.
    T’gai gripped the stern machine gun’s handles, thumbs depressing the firing studs. The machine gun let rip with a racketing blast. The weapon ate up the cartridge belt, spewing empty brass cartridges into the air.
    Tracer bullets, part of the ammo load, appeared as hot-yellow-white streaks clawing the darkness as they reached across the water. T’gai used them to sight in on the charging patrol boat.
    Fifty-caliber rounds chewed up the bow, disintegrating the figures at the front of the craft. Still it came on, its speed not slackening, following a course as straight as a torpedo running hot.
    Thurlow, frantic, all but danced in place. “What keeps it going? Why don’t they die?” He shook his fist at the square-bowed boat. “Die, damn you, die!”
    T’gai, unflappable, kept pouring it on, streaming lead into the foe. The oncoming boat abruptly swerved to starboard.
    Something went over the port side into the water, unnoticed by those on the gunboat in their excitement.
    The patrol boat’s engine choked, stuttering. Gas leaked from it.
    Tracer rounds poured in. Fire leaped up. The patrol boat became a fireball, coming apart in a shattering blast. Flaming debris spewed on the waters.
    The night bloomed bright, blazing for an instant before fading to dark.
    Its forward movement arrested a stone’s throw from the gunboat, the burning wreckage of the patrol boat sank beneath the surface. Steam hissed, raising pale white clouds as the hulk was swallowed up by the Kondo.
    Giant ripples expanded outward from it in concentric circles like when a rock is dropped into a pond.
    Krentz sat up in the bottom of the gunboat, pawing at his face. Shards and needles of broken glass jutted from the backs of hands that had protected him when the searchlight was shot out. Droplets of blood like red sweat oozed from a dozen places on his cheeks and forehead where minute glass particles had stung him.
    Thurlow hovered over him. “Are you all right, Krentz?”
    “Yes—none of the glass got in my eyes, thank God….”
    “That was close, too close! But we got him, though—we got Kilroy!” Thurlow said. He rose to his feet, standing on trembling legs. “Nice shooting, T’gai. You too, sergeant. There’s a bonus in this for you, for all the crew!”
    Thurlow stood at the starboard side, resting his forearms on the sandbags lashed to the top of the gunwale, putting his weight on them. He was still a little weak in the knees.
    The others grouped around him, looking at where the motorboat had gone down. A couple of fire-charred bodies bobbed in the water.
    “So much for Kilroy. His breakout…was broken,” Thurlow said with deep satisfaction.
    “No trophies to take back to Tayambo, I’m afraid,” Krentz said, laughing shakily.
    “I don’t know, a couple of bodies are still floating around.”
    Krentz cut a side glance