Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This story is intended solely for the purpose of entertaining the readership. No infringement is intended.
Everlasting Love – 3
Aziz's men took over the ship. With the confidence of a man in charge of life, Aziz strode to the Bridge where Captain Lewis remained holed up. He tried the door and found it locked. When Swensen with his three captives appeared topside, he found his co-conspirators fully in charge. Another of the terrorists grabbed Horatio by the arm.
"Not so fast," Swensen began. "What are you planning on doing with them?"
"Throw them overboard just like the last bunch," he replied.
"Not this group. They are mine to do with as I please. Understand," Swensen leaned toward the other man who simply shrugged an unspoken, "whatever you wish."
For a few moments, they stared at one another until the terrorist looked away and turned aside to some other "project."
Swensen returned his notice to his captives, "You behave, or I will let them throw you overboard. And in case you hadn't noticed, there are sharks out there," he made a biting motion in the general direction of Calleigh, "Take you out with one bite, it would."
Calleigh leaned back reflexively as Horatio pulled her to behind his own body. Neither made a sound, but both watched Swensen carefully.
A different terrorist came up to Swensen, "Aziz needs you on the Bridge."
"Yeah, fine. Escort these Honeymooners to their cabin. And here, take this guy with them," he shoved Parker along. "Remember to behave. I gave you my word."
Swensen ran his hands through his sandy blonde hair and adjusted the pistol in his belt.
Aziz stood outside the door to the Bridge, "It's bolted from the inside. You get it open," he directed his associate.
Swensen stood next to the door and shouted, "Captain, we've got a problem. Can you let me in, sir? I need to discuss it with you. Comms are out."
Lewis heard him and approached the door, "CHENG, is that you?"
"It's me, sir. Let me in," he implored.
"Can't do that, Mr. Swensen. We're on terrorist protocol alpha," replied the Captain.
"I know sir. But it's me. Let me in," he reiterated.
It was dead silent for a few moments. Slowly Swensen could hear the lock being worked. Swensen placed his huge frame between the Bridge view and what lurked in the shadows behind him. A slight opening appeared. Swensen was all that Lewis could see. The door swung open to let the Chief Engineer access the Bridge. With that, four terrorist burst through. Lewis was catapulted backward onto the steel deck.
Swensen demanded, "Don't shoot. We may need him later."
"Paul? You're part of this?" Lewis was incredulous.
"Yeah, everybody's gotta make a living…"
Horatio, Calleigh, and Parker were roughly shoved toward the Caine's cabin. Terrorists roamed the passageways indiscriminately. Horatio pretended to stumble into another door. He tried the handle and found it locked; he gave Calleigh a worried look. He was pulled to his feet and pushed forward again. The three were unceremoniously "tossed" into the stateroom and the sound of the door locking behind them was unmistakable.
"Well, at least we're not overboard," remarked Calleigh as she sat down in a chair opposite the bed.
"Mmm," was Horatio's customary response when he was deep in thought. Parker took the other chair while Horatio paced back and forth like a caged panther.
"Must you pace?" Parker wanted to know.
Before Horatio could take note, Calleigh responded in a hushed tone, "He does his best thinking that way. Try not to disturb him, okay."
"Sweetheart," he looked tenderly toward Calleigh, "This was not what I had planned."
She laughed, "Always an adventure with you!" She got up and moved closer, "So what are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking we need real help," he raised his eyebrows.
"Got my cell," Calleigh offered flicking it open.
Static was all they could hear.
"Too far out from shore to get a signal," remarked Parker. "What we need is a satellite phone."
"Fresh out," Horatio calmly said. "Let's hide this for when we do get closer to shore."
With some effort and a little inventiveness, they tucked the cell phone into the overhead space. One by one, the rooms were being searched by the terrorists for what they labeled as "contraband." Cell phones were at the top of the list to confiscate, as were any sharp objects. Soon enough, they got around to Horatio and Calleigh's room. Parker sat dejected in the corner as the men tossed things around. They located Horatio's cell and a pocketknife. Calleigh's small scissors were also taken away.
The ship sailed toward Guantanamo Bay, Cuba without further incident, approaching by night. The terrorists set charges in the engineering spaces to mimic an accident at sea. The resultant explosions caused the ship nearly to bolt out of the water. It shook violently, throwing people about as if they were little more than confetti blowing in the wind. This was the first alert that the Sailors and Marines had to trouble just off shore. On the side that faced away from the Navy Base, the terrorists were in the rubber boats preparing to assault the facility when the ship rocked. They had also made off with the lifeboats of the ship. They might not get every one of the detainees out, but they had boats for most.
"Timing is everything," Aziz remarked with a sly smile as the boats lurked on the darker side of the ship.
With the passengers and crew locked away, there was no one left to fight the fire. Fire spread down one passageway after another licking at all the doors. The crew's berthing was closest to the scene of greatest damage. They kicked doors down to get away from the flames.
Horatio pulled the cell down from its hiding place. He dialed "9-1-1" hoping that the military police on the American side of the island would respond. He was not disappointed.
The operator answered, "9-1-1, may I help you, sir or ma'am."
"Yes, this is Lieutenant Horatio Caine from Miami-Dade PD. We're on the SS Bon Voyage, which is just off your coast. By now, you should be able to see the fire. There were and possibly still are terrorists on board. They plan to raid the detention camp and free their compatriots. They are in rubber boats heading your way. We are a diversion," he shouted.
Aziz and his raiding party began to head toward the beach the moment they saw rescue boats heading toward the distressed vessel. Helos were launched from the Coast Guard pier in an effort for the watch officer to get a more accurate assessment of the situation.
The 9-1-1 operator put the Security Officer of the Watch on with Horatio.
"This is Major Garcia. How can I assist you?" he asked Horatio.
"It's not you who can assist me; it's the other way around Major. You've got twelve rubber boats heading your way. In them are six to seven gunmen. They plan on taking on the security detachment and breaking out the detainees. You need to do something fast!" Horatio told him.
"What was your name again, sir?" the major wanted to know.
"Caine, Lieutenant Horatio Caine, Miami-Dade Police. My wife and I are on this vessel," he reiterated. "You can call our boss, Captain Steve Harrison, but you really need to prepare for an invasion."
"Thank you, sir. We'll take it under advisement," replied the major with an official tone.
Horatio flipped the phone shut, "Damn. They don't believe me."
Calleigh started, "Maybe we need to get out of here, Horatio. Maybe we can give them something to make them believe us. And I'm not spending the rest of my Honeymoon in a cabin with two men," motioning back toward Parker who just gave a terse smile.
Together, Parker and Horatio broke the door down and headed toward the Bridge.
Calleigh took note that the ship's lifeboats were all missing before the others did.
Horatio again placed a 9-1-1 call.
"It's me again. Look, these guys have stolen the life rafts. We're all trapped on a burning ship, and they now have means of evacuating the detainees," he demanded once more. "What are you doing about it?"
From the Bridge, main engines were off line, so using the bow thrusters, Parker turned the ship out of the wind. The Bridge crew lay dead at his feet. He fought back tears.
Firefighting tugs came out from the port facility to battle the blaze. The crew did its best to put the fires out as well. Horatio and Calleigh gathered the remaining passengers for rescue at high spots on the ship. From their vantage point, Horatio and Calleigh could see the rubber boats heading for the lee side of the shoreline.
Marine Cobra attack helos flew in from the main compound. They encircled the rubber boats. Tracer rounds lit the night sky in volleys from sea to air and air to sea.
"Oh how lovely," remarked Calleigh whose voice dripped with sarcasm, "The Marines are giving us a fireworks display."
Horatio leaned over and held her close; "We're going to Jamaica for our Honeymoon, my love. Nothing will stop that. I assure you."
Calleigh tucked her nose inside his shirt, "Horatio, no matter what happens, I love you with an everlasting love." Flames backlit the couple.
Between the tugs and the crew, the fire was wrestled under control in a few hours. Other harbour craft were shuttled between the ship and the shore. Horatio, Calleigh, and Parker organized the evacuation of the most seriously injured first. Parker turned over the ship's manifest of crew and passengers. As the hospital received the injured, they were checked off as located. One of the last boats to evacuate carried Horatio and Calleigh. Parker remained aboard, having assumed the mantle of Captain.
Major Garcia had them brought over to his makeshift command post on the pier.
"Welcome to Gitmo," he offered his hand to Calleigh then Horatio.
"Looks like you have a few more for your detention cells," offered Calleigh.
Garcia just grinned, "And more than a few who just didn't make it that far."
"Oo-rah, Marine Corps," chuckled Horatio.
"So, Captain Harrison says that you were on your Honeymoon," Garcia began again.
"Uh huh. Sort of got sidetracked, too," Horatio continued.
"Well, we'd like to help you two out. Your Captain has authorized you an extra week, and my Commanding General has authorized us to get you to Jamaica. As soon as your luggage is retrieved, we'll fly you out to Montego Bay in a C-12," smiled the major.
"What's a C-12?" Calleigh wanted to know.
"A small turboprop, seats six, Ma'am," replied the major.
Horatio squeezed her hand gently, "My wife hates to fly."
"Sorry, sir. It's the only thing moving unless you want to ride the tow back to Miami with the ship," Garcia let them know. "The other passengers who are able are being flown back to Miami on a C-9, the military version of the DC-9. The ones too injured will return in time the same way. We're treating dozens of injured and trying to assess who's not coming home."
"Montego Bay it is," announced Calleigh. "They can come and get us on a ship from there! I am not flying home."
The early morning sun drifted upward painting the clouds of the Jamaican sky fiery orange and rose rimmed by deep purples and blues. A lilting breeze drifted through the beachfront cottage. The curtains danced in the window as Calleigh and Horatio slept soundly between the perfumed sheets.
