Operation Caribe

19

TEAM WHISKEY’S STAY on the Mothership lasted less than three hours.

The briefing itself was just thirty minutes, start to finish. But there was another reason the Dustboat had to visit the Super-LSD.

The Three Kings wanted to install a secure antenna on the little coastal freighter. This device was deemed essential, as it would allow the team to communicate with the Mothership anywhere in the mission operations area without fear of messages being compromised. Looking like an extra crow’s nest, the antenna was installed atop the Dustboat’s bridge and wired to bypass its existing onboard communications system. This way, no stray or unintentional messages about the secret mission could leak out.

Arriving back in the Mothership’s docking bay soon after the CIC briefing to wait for the antenna’s installation, the four remaining members of Whiskey were surprised to see the mysterious shrink-wrapped vessel had already departed. They were sure now it was the SEALs’ mode of transportation.

“Those guys are in a hurry, aren’t they?” Batman said dryly. “I guess they want to get to the good part quickly.”

Twitch just shook his head and said, “Yeah, something like that.”

The Dustboat finally set out just before midnight.

Backing the freighter out of the enormous Mothership again took all the Senegals’ expertise. Once it was free, they opened up the ship’s two diesel engines and kicked in its turbine-assisted water jets. Then with the team gathered on the bridge, they turned northeast and were off.

As they were leaving, they spotted a darkened vessel about a half-mile to the south, shadowing the Mothership. Studying the vessel through their night vision goggles, Nolan and Batman were surprised to see the flag of Blackwater USA flying from its mast.

“For people who weren’t interested,” Batman said, “these guys seem pretty interested.”

* * *

AGAIN, WHISKEY’S MISSION was to get to an island known as North Gin Cay and find a resident who’d claimed to have information about the impending pirate attack.

North Gin Cay was located at the far northeastern tip of the Abaco Islands. It was a string of cays that met the Atlantic with names like Strangers Island and Double Breasted Cay.

The trip by boat would take about five hours, or about five times as long as it would have taken by helicopter. But the Three Kings had emphasized that security was the most important aspect of this mission. And Whiskey’s assignment was a pure intelligence-gathering operation. This meant they had to arrive on North Gin Cay without making too much of a fuss. Landing in a heavily armed OH-6 gunship would certainly attract attention.

Upon arriving on the island, the plan was for the team to pretend to be a crew from a typical coastal freighter while quietly seeking out the informant. The mission file contained precious little information about this informant, though. He had approached an off-duty U.S. Navy officer earlier in the week and said something to him about pirates—“real pirates” and not the typical local gangs. This led the officer to contact ONI, and in turn spurred ONI to tell the Three Kings.

If the informant could be found and if he appeared legitimate, Whiskey would reveal itself and get whatever information he had. If not, the mission would qualify as a fire drill, nothing more.

As the team members joined the Senegals in drinking a pot of coffee on the bridge, they tossed around theories as to why Whiskey had been given this specific assignment. The team did have experience dealing with undercover informants—after all, that’s what had led to their disastrous mission at Tora Bora. They were also good at presenting themselves as non-military types, again key to the mission’s overall security. And they had successfully tracked down one of the islands’ most notorious local gangs just weeks before. But it still seemed like not a lot of work, especially for $5 million.

“Just as long as the check clears,” Batman said, repeating the team’s mantra. “That’s all that matters.”

* * *

THEY PLOWED ON through the dark night, making good time, as all three of their power plants worked smoothly. Once their course was laid in, the Senegals started a game of French poker, and Gunner and Batman joined in. Nolan got behind the ship’s helm and took over the steering. Twitch agreed to keep one eye on the navigation instruments.

At that point, Nolan noticed Twitch was reading a book. This is a first, he thought. He couldn’t help but ask him what it was.

Twitch just showed him the cover: Mysterious Secrets of the Bermuda Triangle.

Batman overheard the exchange, shook his head and went back to playing cards.

“Crash gave it to me right before he left,” Twitch explained. “We’re sailing right through the middle of this freaking Triangle, and you know, some pretty strange stuff has happened out here.”

No sooner were those words out of his mouth when there was a tremendous crash!

It felt like the Dustboat had hit a brick wall, shaking violently from one end to the other. Everyone was thrown to the deck; the poker table and all the cards went flying. The instrument panel erupted in a barrage of madly blinking trouble lights.

“God damn, we just hit something!” Batman yelled.

“Or something hit us!” Twitch yelled back.

Alarms sounded all over the ship. The engines coughed, and smoke billowed out of their air vents. Then came another tremendous crash over their heads. The ship’s electrical system blinked once—then all the lights went out.

A moment after that, all three engines quit for good.

Though stunned and battered, the team recovered quickly. Batman and Gunner scrambled down to the engine room, while Nolan and Twitch ran forward to see what had happened.

Twitch stopped momentarily to grab some trouble lanterns, so Nolan was the first to reach the bow.

He leaned over the railing to see a substantial dent in the port side of the ship, about six feet off the nose.

But ten feet directly below the surface, he saw a green glowing light. As he stared at it, it took on a saucer shape and began sparkling, even though it was submerged. It began spinning incredibly fast, taking on a solid shape. Then, in an instant, it was gone, streaking off underwater toward the open ocean.

By the time Twitch arrived and directed the light into the water, all he could see was swirling waves and the huge dent in the ship’s nose.

“What did we hit?” he yelled at Nolan.

But Nolan couldn’t reply. Had what he’d just seen been real? Or had it been another flashback—even though he was awake?

Twitch played the light in all directions, but they saw nothing but the dark water. No rocks, no islands. No other boats. Nothing.

Nolan finally spoke. “God damn. I think I’m still going crazy from that shit we had in Shanghai.”

“Why—what did you see?” Twitch asked him.

Nolan didn’t want to say it—but he had to. “Something … bright green. It was a circle, under the water. It was there one second, then gone the next.”

“Like a saucer?” Twitch asked.

Nolan snapped at him: “Don’t use that word. I don’t know what the f*ck it was.”

Twitch collapsed next to him and put a hand on Nolan’s shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, sir,” he said, “I’m still going crazy from Shanghai, too. I’ve been seeing weird things since we got back here. Why do you think I was reading that crazy book?”

Nolan looked Twitch straight in the eye; the man was almost crying. He grabbed him and said, “Listen—we tell no one. That’s an order.”

Twitch was all in agreement. “No worries there, sir,” he said.

Suddenly, Batman was up on the outer bridge railing, yelling down at them. “The engines are seized! And the radio is totally f*cked up. What the hell did we hit?”

“It had to be a submarine or something!” Twitch yelled back.

“Or something,” Nolan repeated.

“Well, whatever happened, we’re screwed,” Batman yelled back. “We were heading north, now we’re floating due east—and that’s open ocean out there!”

At that moment, Twitch fixed his lantern not on Batman, but on the bridge roof just above his head. In the beam they saw the newly installed secure antenna was now tilted at a 45-degree angle, dislodged by the violent collision and hanging as if caught in a freeze fame.

Before they could say or do anything, the antenna resumed its fall, smashing to bits on the bridge roof, its pieces spilling into the sea and taking the ship’s old antenna with it.

This meant they had no engines, no power and no way to contact anybody, secure or not.

And now they were drifting out to sea.