Jay stared at the monitors, heart pounding as the guys approached the container yard near the ship, moving like shadows in the darkness. King silently motioned to each pairing, and they split up. The infrared on the drone feed lit up the screen with their movement. Wait. There were more than eight heat signatures. Jay leaned closer. “Guys,” he murmured, “there’s a new heat signature. Three o’clock from Ryden and Finch.”
“I see it,” Jack replied in his ear. “Could be a port worker.”
The figure moved quickly between containers, crouching low and taking cover. “Yeah, I don’t think it’s a civilian.”
King spoke up. “Finch, Ryden, possible hostile approaching your location. Proceed with caution.”
“Roger that,” Finch and Ryden replied.
The camera on Finch’s vest shook as he took cover behind a stack of pallets. Ryden’s camera moved in unison, both of them readying for possible engagement.
Jay’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to switch up the views should he need it. The figure he’d spotted moved again, then split into two. What the hell?
“Shit,” Jay breathed. “You’ve got two possible hostiles, not one.”
“Confirmed,” King said. “Joker, Jack, shift position. Saint, swing wide on the right. We’ve got company.”
Jay’s heart was in his throat, and he couldn’t stop his knee from bouncing. This was excruciating. How did Jack do this? Surveillance was clearly not for Jay. He was ready to start pacing. Ryden and Finch stayed put, waiting as the figures approached, inching closer. The tension was about to give Jay heart palpitations. Then there was a burst of motion. Oh shit!
Gunfire crackled in Jay’s ears, loud even through the filtered mics. The feed on Ryden’s camera jolted as he dove behind a container, bullets sparking off the metal. Finch shouted something Jay didn’t catch, then fired his weapon.
Jay jumped to his feet.Relax.Ry’s okay.This is what he does, remember?Jay took a deep breath, centered himself, and refocused. He couldn’t freak out every time he thought Ryden was in danger. The man had been working in private security for six years, and although most of his work involved risk assessment, he was occasionally assigned to large events that required a significant security presence.
Finch took down one of the shooters when Ryden darted out from the shadows and swept the leg of the second guy in one fluid motion, then slammed the butt of his rifle into the guy’s face. They rendered the men unconscious.
“Targets down,” Ryden’s voice came over their comms, slightly winded as he zip-tied the guy’s wrists and ankles, Finch doing the same. “We’re good.”
Jay fell back into his seat. “You scared the crap out of me,” he muttered, though he knew Ryden couldn’t hear him directly.
“It’s not our guys,” Finch confirmed. “Looks like they’ve hired some help.”
Great. More movement drew Jay’s attention. The drone picked up another cluster of heat signatures at the far end of the yard, opposite the guys. Jay tapped the screen.
“We’ve got movement,” Jack said. “Four signatures. Looks like they’re carrying something.”
King made a low sound. “Roger that. It could be them. Let’s move.”
Jay switched feeds again, pulling up Saint’s and King’s cameras. King crouched low, Saint beside him, both of them advancing toward the next row of containers. The camera jittered slightly with each footstep, and Jay swallowed hard. He hated this. Waiting, watching the people he loved step into danger while he sat in the damn van. He also had to accept that Ryden was right.
Jay wasn’t a Marine. Hell, he wasn’t any kind of soldier. He had no military experience. Working as an executive assistant to a team of Green Berets had taught him a hell of a lot over the years, but that didn’t change the fact that he was five feet four inches and weighed one hundred thirty pounds. These guys could bench press him with one hand tied behind their backs. His family was out there risking their lives to stop dangerous men from hurting anyone else. The last thing Jay wanted was to put anyone in danger, so no matter how difficult it was, he did as promised and stayed put.
The second drone continued to sweep the deck of the cargo ship and the containers. The angle shifted, and Jay spotted anopen cargo container. Several of the cement pallets were outside and unwrapped. Someone dressed in black combat attire from head to toe rounded the corner, driving a forklift carrying an empty pallet. He set it down, then jumped out before quickly loading the cement bags onto the empty pallet. In the container yard, four figures, dressed identically, carried a large crate. Jay assumed it was their five ex-Marines, though with the balaclavas they wore, it was impossible to know for sure.
Jay tapped his comms. “You’ve got one target moving cement bags. The others are likely heading his way.” Jay zoomed in, spotting a crate near the pallet. “Weapons crates.” He scanned the length of the ship. The rest of the containers were closed. “I think they might be finishing up.”
“Let’s move,” King ordered. “Jay, can we make it up the gangway before the hostiles on the ground see us?”
“If you move fast. They’re using the containers to stay hidden, so it should give you the cover you need to get up there before they do. I’ll let you know when they head down one of the bays. Get ready.”
“Roger that,” King replied.
Jay’s eyes were glued to the screen and the heat signatures as they moved between the containers. Considering how they were moving in and out between the bays, they most likely believed they were evading security cameras. They exited one bay and turned down another. “Now!”
The guys moved fast and stealthily, running up the gangway of the cargo ship, their all-black uniforms helping them blend in against the ship. Ryden and Finch had taken up the rear and were still on the gangway when the figures carrying the crate were about to exit another bay.
“Move your asses, Marines,” Jay hissed at Ryden and Finch. They’d just made it onto the deck when the men carrying thecrate appeared. Jay slumped back in his chair, his pulse racing. That had been way too close a call.
The guys moved in formation, heading to the farthest side of the container stack, as it was more likely the men carrying the weapons crate would take the right, which was the shortest route to their teammate.
