The Aden Effect Read Online Free Page B

man gasped and slipped backward off the dock, which was still wet from the earlier rain, as Stark extracted the knife and pivoted to face his next attacker. The man was clearly caught off guard by his partner’s failure and the splash his body made as it fell into the water.
    Stark took advantage of the moment of hesitation with a riposte. Though he wished for one of his old épées or sabers, the fishing knife still found its mark as its tip pierced the East African’s eye. When the man dropped his bat and brought both hands up to his face, Stark thrust the knife into his unprotected abdomen. As he buried the knife he heard a snap and saw the glint of metal; instinctively, he held out his shield arm and waited. The life vest could deflect the strike from a tire iron but could only slow the penetration of a knife. The cold metal cut into his left forearm. He tossed the vest aside, and with it more than a few drops of his own blood, and shoved the man with all his strength.
    Blinded in one eye and overcome by pain from it and his abdomen, the second attacker lost his footing and fell backward off the dock. Stark heardthe unmistakable crack as the man’s head hit the transom of the boat in the next slip.
    Only one of the three attackers remained, but Stark was injured now. The third man pushed Stark back into the cockpit and climbed on board for his own height advantage in this combat. His furrowed brow suggested a more cautious approach than his fellows had used and concentration on his next move. This man was not an amateur.
    Behind him Stark saw a fourth shadowy figure approaching from the pier. The idling car engine and the screams of the second Somali had muffled the footsteps. He knew he had to dispatch the man in front of him before he could possibly handle the fourth.
    The third East African drew back his knife and waited. Stark had experienced the pause of combat before, each side waiting for the other to make a move, hoping for a mistake on which to capitalize. His fencing training took over. Stark planted his left foot on the deck, shifting his shoe to create a dryer spot from which to launch his attack.
    The East African bent his knees as if to project himself onto Stark and then grunted in surprise when an oar came from behind and hit him square across his legs. His feet slipped on the wet locker and Stark pounced, throwing him hard to the deck. He grabbed the slack of the stern line and wrapped it tightly around the man’s neck. The East African struggled and vainly swung his knife, trying to connect with Stark. Stark pulled the line tighter and tighter until the man’s arm fell by his side and the knife dropped harmlessly onto the deck. With the remainder of his strength Stark tightened the line one last time. The man’s entire body went limp.
    â€œI could have taken him,” he said to the figure still on the dock.
    â€œYou can’t do everything alone,” Maggie said.

DAY 3
USS Bennington (CG-74), North Arabian Sea, 0342 (GMT)
    â€œA ttention in the pilothouse, this is Ensign Fisk. I have the conn. Belay all reports.”
    Fisk’s eyes continued to adjust to the darkness around him and the ambient light from the consoles. Barely a quarter of the four hundred souls on board were awake and attending to their duties. It was oh-dark-thirty, and Bobby Fisk had joined the officer of the deck, a lieutenant junior grade who had been three years ahead of him at the Academy.
    â€œYou might want to hold off on belaying your reports, Bobby. It doesn’t hurt to reinforce what’s going on.” The OOD took a sip of coffee and grimaced as he handed another cup to Bobby.
    â€œThanks.” Fisk shuddered at the first sip. “Seaman Grace still trying to figure out the coffeemaker?”
    â€œYeah, but at least it’ll keep us awake.” The OOD pointed him in the direction of the port bridge wing and secured the hatch behind them. Both men zipped up their