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“Sorry about that,” said Paul. “I had to trade out my crew at the last minute. Didn’t get loaded until a few hours ago.”

Wobig walked back to the lift and unfastened the cable line. The crane pulled the loose cable back up. “Okay, what’ve you got for me?”

Paul led him over to the open hold. Wobig peered down. “One goddamn container?”

“That’s it,” said Paul. “Fruits and vegetables.”

“Goddamn waste of my time,” Wobig muttered. He lifted his radio and looked up toward the cab of the crane a hundred feet above the water. “Danny, we got one box to pull up.”

“One box? That’s it?” came the reply.

“Yeah. I got a little Tinkertoy boat down here.”

“Copy that. Stand by.”

As Paul watched, a loop of thick cables dangled from the crane arm overhead, then descended slowly until the hooked ends landed with a heavy clatter on the deck.

“Okay,” said Wobig, “let’s fasten on.”

Paul signaled to Lev and Andrei. With Wobig’s help, the two crewmen reached down and attached four massive cable clips to thick bars on all four corners of the cargo container.

The next minute or so was filled with a series of tense exchanges between Wobig and Danny, as the box rose out of the hold and swung clear of the Espada. Paul watched as the cables retracted, pulling the container higher and higher, swaying slightly, until it looked like it was the size of a LEGO block. When the container reached the level of the top deck, the crane rotated and set it down.

A few seconds later, the crane swung back over the water. A single cable descended.

“Somebody coming to supervise the off-load?” asked Wobig.

“I am,” said Paul.

The cable end hovered over the small personnel lift. Wobig hooked it on at the top. He reached into a pouch and tossed Paul a bulky red life jacket. “Time to fly, Captain.”

Paul had expected this. He’d planned for this very moment. Rehearsed it in his mind. But the reality was something else altogether. He stepped onto the lift, which was only slightly wider than a manhole cover. Wobig popped a hard hat onto Paul’s head and clipped a safety line to his belt. He clicked his radio. “Beam us up, Danny.”

Paul grabbed on to the thick side lines for balance as the lift jerked up from the deck and swung out over open water. He got a sick, roller-coaster swell in his gut.

“Don’t look down,” said Wobig. “Look out.”

“Appreciate the tip,” said Paul.

“First time rider?”

“First time at night.”

In truth, first time ever. But unless you were born with wings, this was the only way to get from the water to the platform. A wild, death-defying ride in midair.

As the cable reeled them up, higher and higher, the lift swayed back and forth. Paul kept his eyes locked on the dark horizon, looking for the lights of an approaching helicopter. But all he could see were patrol boats weaving small circles in the distance.

The ascent was terrifying, but it was over in about thirty seconds.

The crane operator set the tiny lift down on the top deck, about ten feet from the container. Paul unsnapped his safety line and stepped off, knees a bit shaky. A crew member from the Aquila was already heading over, driving a forklift.

“I’ll leave you to it,” said Wobig, stepping off the lift too. “But do me a favor. Next time, wait for daylight.”

“Right,” said Paul. “Next time.”

Wobig walked away as the forklift operator pulled up. The driver jumped off his seat and stepped up to the container. He unfastened the bolts that held the hatch doors closed, then opened them wide, exposing a stack of shrink-wrapped pallets inside. Oranges, avocados, and strawberries.

“Everything going to the galley?” asked the driver.