Jack Ryan 6 - Clear and Present Danger Read Online Free PDF Page B

picture of the owner, sir.”
    The captain hadn't looked at it before.  The owner was in his middle forties.  Evidently he'd married late, because he reportedly had two children aboard, ages eight and thirteen, in addition to his wife.  Big man, six-three or so, bald and overweight, standing on some dock or other next to a fair-sized swordfish.  He must have had to work hard for that one, Wegener thought, judging by the sunburn around the eyes and below the shorts . . .  The captain brought the glasses back up.
    “You're coming in too close,” he observed. “Bear off to port, Mister.”
    “Aye aye, sir.” O'Neil went back into the wheelhouse.
    Idiots
    
    , Wegener thought.  You ought to have heard us by now.  Well, they had a way to make sure of that.  He poked his head into the wheelhouse: “Wake 'em up!”
    Halfway up Panache's mast was a siren of the sort used on police cars and ambulances, but quite a bit larger.  A moment later its whooping sound nearly made the captain jump.  It did have the expected effect.  Before Wegener had counted to three a head appeared out of the yacht's wheelhouse.  It wasn't the owner.  The yacht began a hard right turn.
    “You jackass!” the captain growled. “Close up tight!” he ordered next.
    The cutter turned to the right, as well.  The yacht settled a bit at the stern as more power was applied, but the
    
     Rhodes
    
     didn't have a prayer of outrunning Panache.  In another two minutes the cutter was abeam of the yacht, which was still trying to turn.  They were too close to use the Bofors.  Wegener ordered the machine gun to fire across the Empire Builder's bow.
    The .50-caliber crackled and thundered for a five-round burst.  Even if they hadn't seen the splashes, the noise was unmistakable.  Wegener went inside to get the microphone for his ship's loud-hailer.
    “This is the United States Coast Guard.  Heave to immediately and prepare to be boarded!”
    You could almost see the indecision.  The yacht came back left, but the speed didn't change for a minute or two.  Next a man appeared at the stern and ran up a flag—the Panamanian flag, Wegener saw with amusement.  Next the radio would say that he didn't have authority to board.  His amusement stopped short of that point.
    “Empire Builder, this is the U.S. Coast Guard.  You are a U.S.-flag ship, and we are going to board you.  Heave to—now!”
    And she did.  The yacht's stern rose as engine power dropped off.  The cutter had to back down hard to avoid surging past the
    
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    .  Wegener went back outside and waved at the boat crew.  When he had their attention, he mimicked pulling back the slide on an automatic pistol.  That was his way of telling the crew to be careful.  Riley patted his holster twice to let the captain know that the boat crew wasn't stupid.  The Zodiac was launched.  The next call on the loud-hailer told the yacht's crew to get into the open.  Two people came out.  Again, neither looked like the owner.  The cutter's machine gun was trained on them as steadily as the rolling allowed.  This was the tense part.  The only way Panache could protect the boat crew was to fire first, but that was something they couldn't do.  The Coast Guard hadn't lost anyone that way yet, but it was only a matter of time, and waiting for it only made it worse.
    Wegener kept his glasses fixed on the two men while the Zodiac motored across.  A lieutenant did the same next to the machine gun.  Though no obvious weapons were visible, a pistol wasn't that hard to hide under a loose shirt.  Someone would have to be crazy to fight it out under these conditions, but the captain knew that the world was full of crazy people—he'd spent thirty years rescuing them.  Now he arrested them, the ones whose craziness was more malignant than simple stupidity.
    O'Neil came to his side again.  Panache was dead in the water, with her engines turning at idle, and with the seas now on the beam she