Fucking
pirates, he thought. Typically, a ship’s radar does not provide
good coverage of the area immediately to the rear of a ship, so the
bandits were professionals. If it were a military attack, they
would never have seen it coming. These were crooks looking to steal
a ship.
More than half of pirate attacks in the world
take place in South-East Asian waters. Most of the 400 or so
attacks in those waters every year are on merchant ships and
private yachts from hard up little Asian gangs who robbed the crew
or hijacked the ship and ransomed it back to their owners. Still,
with some 40,000 ships passing through those waters in any given
year, the chances of encountering a pirate was only 1%. No matter
how you took those figures, the Kostov was very
unlucky.
The young sailor cranked the ship’s wheel hard
over to port until it stopped at full left rudder, simultaneously
increasing the throttle on the diesel engine’s topside controls.
The Kostov heeled slowly over to the left and Markov grabbed
on to the chart table to keep from losing his balance as the deck
below his feet canted. Deep below deck, he could feel through his
feet the throb of the huge diesel engine increase as it rotated the
shaft up to the ship’s maximum speed of 11-knots. They would never
outrun the pirates, who could probably make 30-knots or better on
their small boats, but maybe they could shake them off.
Markov picked up the phone and rang the Lab as
he reached under the chart table and took out the AKS-74U commando
rifle that was hidden away there.
««—»»
“ What the hell is going on
up there?” demanded Professor Arkady as he hit the speaker button
on the phone, being impossible to pick up the receiver while he was
in his one-piece positive pressure personnel suit. “The Ministry
assured me that this ship would be staffed by professional
sailors!”
“ Would you shut the fuck
up, you idiot,” barked Captain Markov over the speaker. “We are
under attack.”
Arkady’s blood ran cold in an instant,
if the lab’s contents were to fall into the hands of a foreign
government, or worse a terrorist organization or criminal gang, the
last chapter of the human race was written. “Who is attacking
us?”
“ We think it’s pirates.
I’ve sealed the bridge and ordered all hatches secured. You may
want to barricade yourself.”
Arkady looked at the two other
scientists in the lab who were very silent and had their eyes fixed
on his, waiting for orders. “Have you advised Moscow?” he
asked.
Markov’s voice dropped an
octave. “I was going to call them on the satellite phone only if I thought they
breached the lab.”
“ So you haven’t initiated
the sequence yet then?”
“ No Professor, but I will
if I have to.”
Arkady nodded quietly, “I
understand.”
The only entrance to the lab was
through a series of airlocks that contained multiple showers, a
vacuum room, an ultraviolet light room, and other safety
precautions designed to destroy all traces of the biohazard. They
were all electronically secured to prevent both doors opening at
the same time. All air and water service going to and coming from
the lab likewise was decontaminated to eliminate the possibility of
an accidental release. As each of the four airlocks opened and
closed, a light panel would display for each both inside the lab
itself and on the bridge. An FSB security guard with a fully
automatic AKS-74U assault rifle to repel any unauthorized entrance,
with no exceptions, guarded the entrance round the
clock.
It was when Arkady heard the distant
sound of a rifle firing through several airlocks that he knew the
end was coming. The distinct high-pitched staccato of the AKS-74U
was answered and silenced by heavier bursts from several different
rifles. He only hoped that the guard did not have his access badge
visible. With it, the new owners of the badge could open three of
the four airlocks that kept them and Chimera-44 locked away from
the rest of