Gates of Hades Read Online Free PDF

nightlife that Jason and Paco had decided to move now, rather than wait for the silence of early morning, when the sound of an outboard might draw attention.
    Jason maneuvered the
Zodiac
into the space between the
Fortune
and the ship to her port, where both hulls created a shadow on the water as black and viscous as used motor oil. For a full five minutes they listened to the tide sucking at the ship, the anchor chain’s metallic groan, the sound of revelry across the harbor. Hair on the back of Jason’s neck prickled like tiny antennae anticipating danger signals. It was a familiar experience.
    The
Zodiac
’s arrival had not been noted. Jason tied the painter to the anchor chain.
    There was a metallic click as Jason checked the nine-millimeter SIG Sauer P228 automatic. Thirteen rounds in the magazine, another in the chamber. Two spare clips in quick-release holders on his belt. A good compromise betweenweight and firepower, the Swiss pistol still was hardly a match for the weaponry Alazar was likely to have on board. Jason’s plan required a quick in and out, something the weight of heavier equipment would only impede. If Jason and Paco needed superior armament, they would already be in serious trouble. Replacing the pistol in the holster slung over his Kevlar vest, Jason inspected the rest of his gear as best he could in the poor light.
    â€œReady?”
    Paco’s silhouette glanced up the anchor chain and shook its head slowly. “A fookin’ rat couldn’ get though there, man,” he whispered.
    â€œA fat rat, you mean.” Jason tugged on a pair of work gloves, pulled himself out of the
Zodiac
by the anchor chain, and began to climb. “You’ll have to suck in your gut.”
    When Jason was halfway up the chain, Paco began his climb. Both men moved slowly, aware that a slip, a mistake, could set the chain into motion, clanging against the steel skin of the ship like an alarm bell.
    At the top of the chain Jason stood on the lip of the anchor hatch, holding on to the chain for balance. Darkness prevented him from seeing Paco, but the larger man’s grunts marked his progress. When Paco stood panting alongside Jason, Jason took a small flashlight from his pocket and played its narrow beam on the opening where the chain disappeared into the hull.
    â€œNo fookin’ way, man,” Paco whispered. “No way I can squeeze through there.”
    He was right.
    â€œYou’ll have to take off your vest,” Jason said. “And lay off the beer and chips before the next time.”
    Headfirst, Jason crawled through the hole into stygian darkness. The flashlight revealed a triangular room of no more than fifty square feet containing coils of rope, a toolbox bolted to the wall, and a motor for the electric winches overhead. The apex of the triangle was the ship’s bow; the bulkhead that was its base contained a small door.
    Jason tried the door. It refused to yield.
    â€œFook! I’m stuck!” Paco’s head and shoulders filled the opening.
    Jason suppressed a grin before he realized his face was in darkness. “Wriggle a little more. You look like somebody’s hunting trophy mounted on a wall.”
    â€œReal funny, man.”
    Jason switched off the light and returned his attention to the door, squatting to peer along the edges. There was no watertight seal above the coaming, as there would have been on a military vessel. Through the space between the door and its frame he could make out dim light. He removed a diver’s knife from its sheath on his ankle.
    A thud beside him announced that Paco had worked his way loose.
    Jason ran the knife blade upward along the side of the door until he felt resistance. He increased pressure until there was a click, the sound of a simple bolt sliding from its catch. As he had guessed, there had been no complex locking mechanism. There was no reason to worry about the contents of the anchor locker. He pushed