the port bulkhead that formed the side of the enormous open area along the entire ship to the bridge. Heunholstered his automatic pistol and provided security as the others slid out of the back of the 53 down the fastrope to the deck in less than ten seconds. When the last one was out, the crew chief threw out two large bags, which thudded heavily onto the deck. The helicopter pulled up, banked hard left, and dashed to a quarter mile away, where it hovered with the two SEAL snipers hanging out, their weapons still pointed at the ship. The air was suddenly still. The SEALs crouched around the perimeter of the flat deck and listened.
They spread out, encircling the area with their backs toward each other, looking for any signs of life or danger. They looked quickly over the side of the ship for boats escaping but saw none. Each SEAL wore a small voice-activated Motorola throat mike. Their black helmets had headphones built in. Everyone kept their voices down and mouths shut unless they had something important to say. Armstrong called for a radio check. They answered in order by their pre-briefed number, by seniority, from one to fourteen plus the two Explosive Ordnance Disposal techs, fifteen and sixteen. The entire check took less than ten seconds.
Armstrong looked at each of his men and waited for an all-clear signal. He ran up to Lee, on the port side toward the bridge. “What’ve we got?” he asked, as he knelt next to him.
“We got nothing. There’s no sounds, no movement, no engine noise, nothing. If I was guessing, I’d say this baby’s abandoned.”
Armstrong shook his head. “You don’t go to all that trouble just to abandon a ship like this. I think they’re waiting for us.” He checked his H&K SOF offensive handgun, a .45-caliber weapon designed specifically for Special Forces. It had a mean-looking silencer and a compact laser-aiming module in front of the trigger guard. He had hollow-point bullets for maximizing stopping power and minimizing the risk of hitting a hostage behind a terrorist. “Plan Alpha, Lee. Command and control stay onthe fantail, everybody else to the bridge. Right now. Let’s go!”
“Aye, sir,” Lee said, acknowledging his complete understanding and looking to see that all the others had heard Lieutenant Armstrong. They gave him thumbs-up. He had been working with Armstrong for three years and knew him to be a natural leader and someone with incredible instincts. He always seemed to know when to charge and when to sit and wait in the mud for two days. Lee checked the safety on his silenced H&K SD3 9mm submachine gun and pointed to the two petty officers who had been preassigned to wait on the fantail. They nodded their understanding and picked their positions for best vision of their area. The other fourteen lined up on the port and starboard sides, their weapons ready, thumbs on safeties. Armstrong waited for three seconds, then motioned for the point man to lead the team. They began a quick run toward the bow of the ship. Everyone stayed in a line and maintained their fields of fire.
The point man crouched to keep from presenting too large a target. He had been trained to always assume someone can see you and wants to shoot you; move like there are crosshairs on you all the time. Every time. He stopped in front of a large hatch that appeared to lead to the bridge. It was closed tight, but not locked. He breathed quickly and steadily as he considered his options. If the door was booby-trapped, they’d be cooked. He signaled those with him to spread out along the steel bulkhead in front of and behind the hatch, as he felt the handle. He felt no vibration, no unusual resistance, and no springs. He moved the handle up slowly, feeling every slight movement for something unusual. The handle swung smoothly to the top and the hatch popped open as if pushed. He stepped back and waited. The hatch swung freely but no one came out. He stuck his head around and back, then around
They spread out, encircling the area with their backs toward each other, looking for any signs of life or danger. They looked quickly over the side of the ship for boats escaping but saw none. Each SEAL wore a small voice-activated Motorola throat mike. Their black helmets had headphones built in. Everyone kept their voices down and mouths shut unless they had something important to say. Armstrong called for a radio check. They answered in order by their pre-briefed number, by seniority, from one to fourteen plus the two Explosive Ordnance Disposal techs, fifteen and sixteen. The entire check took less than ten seconds.
Armstrong looked at each of his men and waited for an all-clear signal. He ran up to Lee, on the port side toward the bridge. “What’ve we got?” he asked, as he knelt next to him.
“We got nothing. There’s no sounds, no movement, no engine noise, nothing. If I was guessing, I’d say this baby’s abandoned.”
Armstrong shook his head. “You don’t go to all that trouble just to abandon a ship like this. I think they’re waiting for us.” He checked his H&K SOF offensive handgun, a .45-caliber weapon designed specifically for Special Forces. It had a mean-looking silencer and a compact laser-aiming module in front of the trigger guard. He had hollow-point bullets for maximizing stopping power and minimizing the risk of hitting a hostage behind a terrorist. “Plan Alpha, Lee. Command and control stay onthe fantail, everybody else to the bridge. Right now. Let’s go!”
“Aye, sir,” Lee said, acknowledging his complete understanding and looking to see that all the others had heard Lieutenant Armstrong. They gave him thumbs-up. He had been working with Armstrong for three years and knew him to be a natural leader and someone with incredible instincts. He always seemed to know when to charge and when to sit and wait in the mud for two days. Lee checked the safety on his silenced H&K SD3 9mm submachine gun and pointed to the two petty officers who had been preassigned to wait on the fantail. They nodded their understanding and picked their positions for best vision of their area. The other fourteen lined up on the port and starboard sides, their weapons ready, thumbs on safeties. Armstrong waited for three seconds, then motioned for the point man to lead the team. They began a quick run toward the bow of the ship. Everyone stayed in a line and maintained their fields of fire.
The point man crouched to keep from presenting too large a target. He had been trained to always assume someone can see you and wants to shoot you; move like there are crosshairs on you all the time. Every time. He stopped in front of a large hatch that appeared to lead to the bridge. It was closed tight, but not locked. He breathed quickly and steadily as he considered his options. If the door was booby-trapped, they’d be cooked. He signaled those with him to spread out along the steel bulkhead in front of and behind the hatch, as he felt the handle. He felt no vibration, no unusual resistance, and no springs. He moved the handle up slowly, feeling every slight movement for something unusual. The handle swung smoothly to the top and the hatch popped open as if pushed. He stepped back and waited. The hatch swung freely but no one came out. He stuck his head around and back, then around
Similar Books
