The climb was the worst part. It always was, and Aberlour cursed his choice of careers as every muscle in his body fought to overcome the force of gravity. He walked his feet up the wall of the ship silently and methodically, while monitoring the progress of the others advancing ahead of him.
Ghost was the first one to reach the ship’s deck. Silently, he swung himself over the railing, immediately reaching for his Glock 19, prepared to lay down cover fire if they were spotted. Aberlour listened for any shots fired as he pulled himself up a few more feet. Marcus boarded the ship next. It was quiet so far.
Oliver was next to climb over the railing with Aberlour right on his heels. JD stayed with the boat. They needed a solid escape plan if the SEALs failed in executing their mission, or worse, if things went to hell and Team Specter never made it to the command center.
“JD to Dumber, do you hear me?” They needed to test their comms before JD retreated a safe distance from the cargo ship.
“Copy,” Aberlour replied softly, his feet landing on the deck in complete silence. Before he had a chance to look around, a hand gripped his arm, forcing him to his knees and pulling him sideways behind a metal shipping crate. Before he couldreact, Oliver was holding a finger up to his mouth, gesturing for Aberlour to be quiet.
“Three guns on the upper deck, two guards patrolling the main deck,” Ghost whispered as he approached them from the side of the container, quickly and expertly completing the initial threat assessment of the open areas of the ship.
“We execute the mission as planned. Carlos and Ghost, you take out the guards. Oliver, Marcus, and I are going up,” Aberlour whispered back, confirming the plan they’d agreed on during their pre-mission briefing. They’d planned for various scenarios, but this one had been the most likely for them to have to deal with. The standard set up for pirates and insurgents taking control of a ship was to have a few guards posted as lookouts, several men to handle the hostages, and a few men assigned to the control room.
Aberlour gave the signal for the team the go ahead. As graceful as a cat, Ghost sprang up from his position next to the container and grabbed a guard as he walked by. Swiftly covering his mouth, Ghost snapped his neck with a single twist of his gloved hands. He slowly lowered the man’s body to the deck and then dragged him behind the container where the rest of the team was hiding. Then he took off with Carlos hot on his heels, racing down the deck silently. Aberlour was hit with a single pang of worry, as he always was, when watching his men race headfirst towards danger while he had to stay back. He brushed it aside quickly. They were more than capable, and he had his own job to do. He signaled for Marcus and Oliver to follow him, and peered over the crate to his right, making sure the coast was clear and that no guns on the upper deck were trained on him before darting from his hidden position to the opposite side of the deck, pressing himself against the wall to remain undetected.
Marcus and Oliver immediately followed him, and together, they inched towards the stairs leading up to the nextdeck, Oliver checking their six as Marcus covered Oliver’s 9 o’clock.
As he reached the top of the companionway, Aberlour hesitated. There was a strange sound, like something rubbing on metal. Something dull, or soft, or—
Footsteps.
Aberlour flattened himself against the wall and his men followed suit, as voices reached them from just a few feet over their heads.
“Drop off—” Aberlour heard one of them say. Someone else laughed as their footsteps continued down the companionway, moving away from them. Aberlour waited another full minute, watching the upper deck carefully, before moving towards the companionway once more. He searched for any more guards, and finding none, signaled Marcus to proceed, as Aberlour took over guarding their six, and Oli kept his head on a swivel. Moving swiftly and silently, they headed to the next deck. The only sounds were the waves crashing against the metal hull of the cargo ship and their ragged breathing over the comms.
They made it to the upper deck undetected and moved swiftly to find cover in an alcove behind the bridge and the signal mast. Aberlour scanned their immediate area for any guards and, fortunately, it was all clear. It was best not to take down any of the insurgents on the upper deck, which would likely alert the enemy to their presence. The primary mission was to gain access to the communications center and reactivate the system so the Navy could locate the ship. The rest was up to SEAL Team 2.
Once he confirmed that the coast was clear, Aberlour signaled for his men to move out. Marcus led them down the short distance to the bridge, stopping at the door to sneak a quick look through the small window. He held up two fingers. Aberlour nodded and switched places with Oliver. Then hetapped Marcus on the shoulder, signaling for him to open the door. Aberlour readied himself, finger lightly caressing the trigger as he held up his rifle. His aim was true. It was always true. Now it just needed to be fast.
Marcus pulled the door open and Aberlour burst onto the bridge a split second later. Both guards on duty barely had time to look up before Aberlour popped them with a bullet between their eyes. Two quick pops would probably go unnoticed since cargo ships were loud anyway because of the waves hitting the hull constantly and the drone of the diesel engines and propulsion systems.
As soon as the bodies hit the floor, Oliver and Marcus entered, shutting the door behind them. Oliver went to work blocking the door as Marcus headed straight for the control panel for the signal mast.
“Shit!” Marcus cursed.
“Problem?” Aberlour asked, walking over, finger still hovering over the trigger, eyes on the lookout for any threat. He glanced at the panel quickly and instantly realized why Marcus had cursed.
The fucking insurgents had taken an ax to it. Wires and pieces of electronics covered the floor and there were some wires hanging loosely from the top and sides of the control panel.
“Can you fix it?” Aberlour asked while positioning himself to look out on the lower deck. Oliver was watching their left flank, so Abe took the right.
“I’ll need some time. Can’t fix it, but I can connect a system booster to it. Its function will be limited. We won’t be able to radio in, but the Navy should be able to pick up a signal,” Marcus replied while pulling pieces of equipment from his backpack and getting to work.
“How will we know if it’s working?” Oliver asked as he kept his gaze trained on the left side of the bridge.
“When SEAL Team 2 shows up, I guess.” Marcus resumed cursing under his breath as he worked on reconnecting wires.
This was the part of their job that most were incapable of dealing with. Green Berets, Rangers, SEALs—they could take down an entire ship covered with insurgents like it was a game of pool at the local bar. They were absolute killing machines. The German Shepherds of military service. Force Recon Marines were the black cats. They weren’t dropped into action. They weren’t given a singular and precise mission. They were left to their own devices and told to figure it out. They had to be stealthy and clever. Blowing their cover meant dying alone, in enemy territory, where no one would ever raise a finger to come get them.
SEAL teams didn’t have to pray that their half-assed repair jobs worked. They established contact with base, kept their commanding officers in the loop every step of the way. They were never stranded. At least, they weren’t supposed to be. They were never hunted because they were always the hunters.
Aberlour liked being hunted, because when he turned around and bared his teeth, he reveled in the wide-eyed stare of the hunter when he became the prey.
“How much longer?” Aberlour asked Marcus, as the comms system buzzed in his ear.
“Main deck cleared,” Ghost said. “Moving to the upper deck.”
“Careful. There was movement on the upper deck earlier,” Aberlour cautioned, glad to know that reinforcements were on the way.
