“JD, keep an eye out on the skies. As soon as you see a chopper, let us know, and we’ll hightail it out of here,” Aberlour decided, though the back of his neck tingled with worry.
“Really? A last-minute dash?” Oliver asked, clearly amused by the suggestion.
“You wanna live?” Aberlour retorted, giving Oliver a hard look.
Oliver snorted but had no further argument.
The minutes ticked by as they waited in tense silence for either someone on board to discover them or for the SEALs to show up. Aberlour could have checked his watch, but it would do him no good. Time would pass, or it wouldn’t. They needed the SEALs to show up. It was as simple as that.
Oliver was on the cusp of asking Marcus to doublecheck his repair job and make sure the system booster was working when JD’s voice broke over the comms.
“Chopper is two minutes out.”
They couldn’t just run down to the lower deck, shooting every insurgent they came across. That would blow their cover and eliminate the advantage of surprise for the Navy SEALs. The only recourse that Team Specter had was to sneak back down to the lower deck undetected by the insurgents. Marcus led the way with Aberlour watching their six. The upper deck still looked clear of any guards as they approached the companionway. They paused to check again for guards and Aberlour switched places with Marcus, tapping him on the shoulder to signal he’d be going first. Darting down the companionway, he scanned for insurgents before running to the other side of the deck to hide behind the crates stacked along the railing.
When the others joined him, Aberlour allowed himself a brief moment to just take a deep breath. It wasn’t over, though.They still had to slide down the rope they’d left earlier along the side of the ship. Hopefully, they’d make it out alive before the SEALs came in hot.
Aberlour signaled for Marcus and Oliver to descend first. “Coming down,” he told JD over the comms as he constantly monitored for guards on the lower deck. Fortunately, there were none around to witness their descent to the boat.
Just as Aberlour began his descent, carefully walking his way down the side of the cargo ship, the Navy helicopter appeared over the lower deck, the backwash from the rotor blades hit the metal containers, creating a terrible screeching noise of metal grating against metal.
The first SEAL hit the deck just as Aberlour vanished down the side of the ship. By the time the first volley of shots rang out, Aberlour had dropped into the boat, and JD hit the throttle, to get as much distance as possible between them and the cargo ship.
“Watch this,” Carlos complained, “the fuckers are gonna get a medal or some shit, and all we’ll get is a fucking ‘You were supposed to radio in!’ Damned Navy assholes!”
Aberlour snorted, placing a hand on Carlos’ shoulder and squeezing firmly.
“I’ll buy you a beer and a burrito,” he promised.
“Ahhh—now you’re talking, papi,” Carlos praised him with a beaming smile.
“Better not be no fucking beans in that burrito! He’s on the top bunk and farts enough for two people!” JD exclaimed over the roar of the motor. It was a miracle that he’d heard them and Aberlour couldn’t hold back his smile as the two began to bicker.
Aberlour relaxed and began removing all his equipment from his face, breathing freely for what seemed like the firsttime in days. Oliver leaned against him, chuckling as they both enjoyed the spray of saltwater on their faces.
“Am I crazy, or did that go smoothly?” he asked Aberlour, amazement in his voice.
“’Course it did,” Aberlour replied. “We were together.”
He hadn’t meant that to sound so serious, but as he turned to look at Oli, even in the pitch black of a moonless night, he could tell the man was mulling the words over with deep intensity.
“Yeah,” he finally said, voice hoarse. “Darling and Dumber.” He chuckled strangely and Aberlour didn’t understand what that meant. It didn’t matter. They were safe and sound and would be back on solid ground very soon.
Aberlour took another deep breath as their boat sliced through the choppy waves, and looked up at the sky, surprised to find the vastness somewhat moving as dawn approached.
Aberlour was summoned for a debriefing as soon as they returned to base. To his surprise, however, he was not the only one there to be debriefed. As he entered the bland conference room, Captain Shawn O’Reilly already occupied a seat at the table, looking none the worse for wear, apart from a black eye and a cut at the base of his neck.
“Took you long enough,” O’Reilly said, in lieu of a polite greeting, although his smirk was friendly.
“You’re bleeding—should probably learn to dodge better,” Aberlour said, his own cocky grin firmly in place. He took a seat across the table. It was only the two of them for now. Soon a paper pusher would come into the room, and they’d begin the lengthy process of being questioned about every detail of the operation. The overlap of their schedules was likely why they were being interviewed together, but it was highly unusual.
“Everyone make it back?” Abe asked.
“Yes.”
He gave a nod of appreciation. He might not be on good terms with the SEALs, but he respected their work. They all had families to get back to just like everyone else.
“You?” O’Reilly asked after a moment.
