Tiger by the Tail by John Ringo, Ryan Sear Page A

correct angle to let water in. The boat was listing to port when the two bloodied men and what looked like a young woman held up their hands and allowed the Kildar’s boat to pull alongside.
    The three pirates were brought aboard, thoroughly frisked, and their hands and feet secured with zip-ties. Mike had the two Keldara haul the mysterious green box aboard as well, and left the damaged boat to sink into the vast depths of the Pacific Ocean.

CHAPTER FOUR

    “Now this is interesting.”
    Mike was clustered with Adams, Vanner, Greznya, Vil and Danes around the strange green box.
    “Anybody seen anything like it before?”
    “It’s a green rugged conditions shipping case,” Adams said. “Seen a million of them in my time.”
    “Well, duh,” Mike replied. “What I don’t get is why there’s no markings on it at all. That should mean it’s not military, since they stamp things every which way. But it screams high-level military hardware of some kind.” Mike bent over, examining a pair of odd, round holes, one on the upper left and one in the upper right corner of the front of the case. He was pretty sure those were the lock mechanisms, but there was no identifying name or any real way to get an idea of what they were up against. “I don’t remember any keys. Adams?”
    “I’m getting old but not that old,” the former SEAL said. “No keys.”
    “Where’s Creata?” Vanner asked Greznya.
    “Off-watch.”
    “I think we’re going to need her expertise.” Creata, also known as Mouse, was one of the smallest Keldara women. Out of all of Vanner’s intel girls, she was the best at figuring out any sort of lock or device, mechanical or otherwise. She was also a very efficient killer when necessary. Mike had found that out during the Albanian op, when he’d found her standing over a thug she had sliced in half with the laser drill she had been using. Creata had blown his head off, then gone back to popping the safe door without missing a beat.
    “I will get her.” Greznya disappeared below deck.
    Mike radioed Yosif. “Inara Leader, this is Kildar, what’s your sitrep, over?”
    “Inara Leader to Kildar, perimeter is secure. We have captured eighteen tangos, with forty-four KIA. Three wounded, none killed on our side. Team Jayne is sweeping the rest of the island for anyone hiding, over.”
    “Roger that, good work. Police all weapons and collect anything recoverable, then set charges for complete demo and standby for further orders.”
    “Roger, Mal.”
    By the time Mike had finished his conversation, Creata was kneeling in front of the box, with a miniature borescope in hand. She threaded the end into one of the holes and nodded.
    “The box is secured with two disk tumbler locks. They are most likely Abloys, or, considering where we are, possibly Solexes.”
    “What’re those?” Adams asked.
    Creata straightened up, took the position of “parade rest,” cleared her throat and looked into the distance.
    “A disc tumbler lock or Abloy Disklock is a lock composed of slotted rotating detainer discs,” Creata stated, didactically. “Instead of pins that are manipulated by a key, these contain a series of small metal disks in a row. Each disk is cut in a distinct pattern so that part of it, anywhere from ninety to as much as two hundred seventy degrees, is missing. When the proper key, which is cut on two different axes, is inserted and turned, it rotates the disks like the tumblers of a safe, lining them up correctly and opening the lock. Because there are no springs, the lock cannot be bumped. It also cannot be picked by normal means, as there is no way to access and manipulate the disks without a special tool.”
    “Which you have, I trust?” Mike asked, trying not to grin. Nielson had been cracking down on the military etiquette lately and all the Keldara were going around like brand new jarhead nuggets. Mike figured it kept the colonel happy and didn’t seem to be interfering in