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“How far along are you?”

“Fourteen weeks, still a long way to go.”

“If life has shown me one thing,” said George. “It’s that time will pass quicker than you plan. Before you know, you’ll have two of them running around with Hatchet.”

“As long as they’re all healthy,” she said.

“Amen to that,” said George.

“Did you want a cup of coffee or a beer?” she asked.

“No, I’ve got to be going. I’ll let you enjoy your family time,” he replied.

“You’re family too now, George. You and Saber are welcome here anytime.” She paused. “Well, not anytime. Unless you want more puppies.”

George laughed. “I’ve got eight different agencies waiting on a pup. Even the Canadian Coast Guard has requested one.”

“Well, we don’t want to keep them waiting too long,” said Ali. “As you know, Mike’s keen to start training dogs once he leaves the SEALs. Maybe the two of you should start talking about working together. I’d be much happier if he were home training dogs and not running into gunfights.”

“You think he’s ready to give it away?”

Ali paused in thought. “Probably not. But let’s see how he feels when he’s got two kids at home.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Mike was the first to reach the bundle, having ditched his parachute and donned his mask and fins. Hanging to the side of the buoyant car-sized mound of rubber, he waited for Ernie to take up position on the other side.

It was a beautiful day, and they’d flown up from San Diego in an Agency C-130. They’d jumped fourteen nautical miles off the coast, under the watchful eye of a Canadian Coast Guard vessel acting as their safety craft.

“Little warmer than last time,” said Rick, as he reached the bundle. “Thermals and fins make all the difference.”

“You’re telling me,” said Mike.

“I wouldn’t call it warm,” said Ernie. “Let’s get this boat inflated.”

TJ was the last to arrive and took his place.

Rick coordinated the team as they cut the cords binding the boat. He cracked the valve on the boat’s tank of air, and it uncurled as it filled with an aggressive hiss.

When the boat was firm, Rick gave the order to embark, and they clambered over the sides of the Zodiac. Mike and TJ unwrapped the motor, mounted it on the transom, and connected the fuel lines before starting it. Lightweight and powerful, the outboard started first pop. Simultaneously, Mike checked their dive gear, and Rick double-checked their location against his chart.

“We’re bang on the X,” said Rick, returning his compass to a pouch. “It’ll be a short transit till we hit the coast, then half a mile north to the recovery site. Let’s get rolling.”

Mike took the helm and gunned the outboard, sending the boat skipping across the water.

Rick glanced over his shoulder and saw that the coastguard vessel was pacing them a mile or so back. Safety had been a key concern of the commander, and it was Rick’s plan that had included the use of the Coast Guard in case the parachute infiltration had gone wrong.

“Hey TJ, did they find Kane’s body?” Mike asked over the roar of the outboard.

The chief shook his head. “No sign of him. The Mounties think he got off the boat and drowned trying to swim to shore.”

“Unless he had gear on the boat,” said Mike. “A good swimmer in a wetsuit with fins could make the ten miles easily.”

“No, a good SEAL could make that swim. Kane’s been out of the game a long time. If he tried something like that, he’d drown,” added Ernie.

The conversation continued as they made their way east, toward the shore. A tinge of green appeared on the horizon, and it rapidly emerged into the forests of Vancouver Island.

“Follow the shore for another half mile,” directed Rick, once they were only a few hundred yards from the rugged coast.