Piranha by Clive Cussler Page A

loaded the second shell into the cannon and watched the seconds tick down on his watch. One minute was more than fair, he thought.
    When sixty seconds ended, the ship looked as empty as the famous ghost ship
Mary Celeste.
Juan again pulled the trigger.
    The cannon bucked, sending the shell straight through the warehouse and into the tanker.
    The ammo detonated with a blast that dwarfed anything up to this point. The cargo bay disappeared in a flash of white flame, an enormous mushroom cloud rising above the dock. The warehouse next to it was blown down by the explosion. Even wearing the headset muffs, Juan’s ears rang.
    With a fire raging on board, the
Tamanaco
broke in two and began to sink immediately. They’d have a hard time selling the waterlogged vehicles if any of them survived the blast.
    Juan glanced around and saw all of the men surrounding the tank had been thrown flat. They would need a few minutes to come around, but Juan spotted a column of what had to be military vehicles heading toward them from the nearby city.
    â€œWhere to now, Chairman?”
    â€œHome, James.” The Abrams lurched forward, plowing the fence down and turning onto the road.
    â€œAny ideas for how we’re going to get back on the
Oregon
now that they’re heading out to sea? They’ll have the docks locked down, so stealing a boat isn’t going to be an option. Plan B is out the window.”
    They could have the
Oregon
send one of its lifeboats, but that would expose it to gunfire from the shore when it picked them up. Although the tank was impregnable, it was easy to follow, and it had only enough gas for loading onto and unloading off of the ship. At less than two miles per gallon, they were going to be dry in about fifteen minutes of driving.
    Juan remembered the peak of the hill on the peninsula they’d sailed by when the
Oregon
was entering La Guanta Harbor. From the looks of it, it had enough elevation for what he was thinking.
    â€œMax isn’t going to like this,” he murmured.
    â€œAm
I
going to like it?”
    â€œYou’ll love it,” Juan said. “When has my Plan C ever failed?”

The
Dolos
had reached the mouth of the harbor by the time Manuel Lozada and his men had surrounded the lumbering ship in their four powerboats. The ship hadn’t responded to his radio call to return to the dock, so Lozada had gathered Gao and fifteen other men to take the freighter by force, if he had to. He still didn’t believe the rust bucket was armed with anything more dangerous than a kitchen knife, but he was going to follow the admiral’s instructions no matter how ridiculous they seemed.
    He raised the bullhorn and stood atop the launch.
    â€œCaptain Holland and
Dolos
,” he called out in English. “You are required to return to your berth in La Guanta Harbor immediately. Your authorization to depart the harbor has been temporarily revoked because of safety precautions.”
    He waited, but there was no response. The dim light on the bridge revealed no occupants. Lozada wasn’t surprised considering how grimy the windows were. The
Dolos
continued to plod out to sea. He repeated the call with the same result.
    â€œYou’re going to have to go aboard to stop her,” Gao said.
    â€œIt’s looking that way.” Admiral Ruiz had told him to rely on Gao’s experience with the ship and Lozada wasn’t going to argue. His expertise was in sailing ships, not assaulting them. “What do you suggest?”
    â€œI suggest you attack the ship with all four boats simultaneously. Two at the bow and two at the stern. Overwhelming force is the most likely tactic for victory.”
    Lozada agreed and radioed the other boats the plan. Each was equipped with a boarding ladder, and every man had been armed with an assault rifle. They weren’t special tactics policemen, but they were able to handle the weapons well enough to capture a straggly