"Well, Jug is down thirty-five pounds, running faster than Hammer now, and is pretty damn cocky about it. But I'm okay with that."
Ronan laughed, the sound carrying genuine warmth. "No doubt. I'm glad to see he's taking his physical conditioning seriously now."
"All because of Shelly.” Talon chuckled.
"Remind me to send that woman a couple bottles of wine the next time she's in the States," Ronan said.
Talon leaned back in his chair, the metal creaking slightly under his weight. "According to Jug, they plan on staying overseas. They like it this way. They see each other when they rotate off and on between assignments, as well as when they're in the region together. Anytime we're near the camp where Shelly is working, I make it a point of stopping so they can hook up."
"Literally or physically?" Ronan asked.
" I don't want that vision in my head.” Talon laughed.
"How’s Wolf doing?" Ronan asked after they finished their chuckle at Jug's expense.
Talon's expression grew more serious. "I haven't seen anything to lead me to believe the doctors weren't right. But I'm continuing to watch. It only takes a slight hesitation."
Ronan agreed with a heavy sigh. "And Stryker? Hammer?"
"Stryker's good. Jug keeps trying to hook him up with one of Shelly's friends. Hammer fits in like he belongs here. He's a good man. Solid. Dependable."
"But you still don't trust him."
Talon wobbled his head back and forth even though Ronan couldn't see it. "More and more. There's no reason not to trust him, every reason to trust him. I just need a little bit more time."
"That's fair," Ronan said, but his tone shifted, becoming more businesslike. "But let's get down to the reason I called."
Talon looked at the speakerphone, tension creeping back into his shoulders. "And that would be?"
"We have a situation in the Gulf of Guinea. Pirates took the MV Calypso Queen."
"And this involves us how?" Talon asked as he leaned forward, his instincts already kicking into high gear.
"The cargo owner contacted us when the local governments were of no help. The ship is contracted to Shoemaker Resources. According to the ship manifest and the CEO Harlan Shoemaker, three containers of uranium are in the hold of that ship.”
“And the locals refuse to help?”
“They don’t know about the special shipment and aren’t being told. Here’s the weird thing. The pirates have had it for over a week, and Shoemaker has just now contacted us."
Talon's blood ran cold. Fucking CEOs coveringtheir asses when shit hits the fan was a pressure point for him. He sighed and asked, "Do the pirates know what they have?"
"We don’t believe so. The manifest is coded, and unless they've opened every container, they won't have found it. It's in the center of the ship. The hold is double-lined, specifically restructured for the transport of the uranium."
Talon frowned, his mind racing through the implications. "Is it enriched?"
"No, thank God," Ronan said quickly. "Right now, it's yellowcake."
Talon nodded his head. Yellowcake was high-grade uranium ore, which, in the wrong hands, was dangerous but not immediately weaponizable.
Ronan continued, "You need to get that boat under our control. You'll be leaving in four hours. Dude has the information, location, and logistics. Take care of our team, my friend."
Talon smiled, feeling the familiar weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. "They're my team now, Skipper. And you can guarantee I'll do whatever it takes for as long as it takes to make sure they come home safely."
"I have no doubt, Talon. Do me a favor, though?"
"Anything." And Talon meant it.
"Take care of yourself, too."
