Vance pulled himself across the planking and stretched for a box of
gear stowed beneath the stern platform. In it was a constant traveling
companion: his chrome-handled 9mm Walther. Although the concept of
downing a Hind gunship with small-arms fire had been tested in
Afghanistan and found wanting, he was so angry his better judgment was
not fully in play.
The pistol remained in its waterproof case. Quickly he took it out,
unwrapped it, and clicked a round into the chamber. Then he tried to
steady himself against the fallen mast.
The Hind was about a hundred meters away now, coming in low. Were they
going to strafe? No, they probably didn't realize he was there.
They were about to be in for a surprise.
He could see the weapons-system operator inside the lower bulletproof
bubble. Forget it. And the pilot, seated just above him, was similarly
invulnerable. No way. Furthermore, the dual rocket pods beneath each
short wing were probably armored. Again no vulnerability.
Aside from the poorly protected gas tanks there was only one point
worth the trouble. If . . .
It was about to pass directly overhead, and he saw that he was going to
be lucky. One Swatter missile remained, secured on the hardpoint tip of
the stubby starboard wing. It was the only shot he had.
But if he didn't get it, they would get him. One touch of the red
firing button by the weapons operator and _Odyssey II_ would be
evaporated.
He took careful aim at the small white tube on the wing, still nestled
on its launcher, and squeezed off a round. But at that instant _Odyssey
II_ dipped in the swell and he saw sparks fly off the fuselage instead.
The chopper passed blissfully overhead, its engine a dull roar above
the howl of the sea.