SEAL Team 666: A Novel

She walked swiftly into the room. Dressed in a business suit with her hair pulled tight, it seemed hard to believe they’d lain together in her bed just a few hours ago. She met Holmes and shook his hand. When she saw Walker, toward the back of the group, she nodded, but smiled only slightly.

He mimicked her greeting.

“We’ll be up in two minutes,” she said. “We’ve already established coms with NRO command. We’ve sent them access to our secure node and are just waiting for the handshake.”

“Handshake complete,” said one of the men working at the computers in the room.

The image on the monitors scrambled and pixellated for twenty seconds as the information protocols were passed and synced between SPG and NRO. Then the image slid into focus. Both screens showed the subcontinent of India. To its east lay Bangladesh, Pakistan, Bhutan, Nepal, and Myanmar. The screen to the left remained fixed on this image, while the screen to the right began to focus down.

Dropping like the gaze of an intrusive god, their view went from one hundred miles to one mile in a single moment, then focused further until they were passing over land. Trees covered squalor and farms, barely visible beneath the heavy canopy. They passed from forest to pasture, then from pasture to ocean.

“Coming to the port,” came a man’s voice.

“Match left and right screens,” Jen commanded.

The screens were again synced to the close-up.

“On my mark, capture screen at max resolution.”

Boats began to appear in the view on the flat gray water. Warehouses and cranes passed in and out of view as the water returned.

Walker wondered if they might be too late. Had their delay put them all at risk? If the ships had sailed in the last twenty-four to forty-eight hours, they’d have to depend on their global array of subsurface tracking buoys to detect them. But that meant that the ships had to pass near the buoys. And although they were strategically placed in water bodies such as the Strait of Malacca and the Gulf of Aden, and along the U.S. coastline, they were an imperfect solution to a possible attack.

Suddenly a fleet of cargo ships filled the screen.

“Begin mark. Capture.”

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Ruiz asked. “Those are the ships we’re after.”

As if to answer his question, one of the SIC personnel said, “Hull numbers and names match manifest.”

Ruiz grinned as he turned to Walker. “Think we’re going to see them get blown to bits?”

Walker wasn’t sure. He was too busy watching Laws and Holmes, who were conferring quietly with each other.

Then the image was back to canopy.

“Please pass to NRO Command our regards. Capture and separate digitals of each of those ships so we can examine them.” Jen turned to Holmes. “Give me a few moments, and I’ll put together a targeting set.”

“No need,” Holmes said. “How soon can we get another pass?”

Jen looked taken aback. “You don’t want to see the images?”

“We’d like to see them. There might be some intel that can help, but the ships are empty,” Laws said, pointing at the screen. “Either the crates are loaded on different ships, or they have yet to be loaded. Either way, we’re back to square one.”

“Jim, can you verify?” Jen asked, approaching an older heavyset gentleman sitting at a computer nearby.

“He’s right. See the watermarks and where they’re riding? That watermark should be at sea level.”

Walker looked from Holmes and Laws to the personnel in the SIC. They were at a sudden loss. No one knew where the creatures were. They could be in American ports as they spoke. All the money and technological advancement in the world couldn’t give them what they wanted.

Frankly, he didn’t know what they were going to do now.

39

THE MOSH PIT.

On the way back to the Pit, Holmes let it be known that everyone was on one-hour recall. They had to find out where the cargo was for those ships. SPG was going to coordinate with FBI to see if they could get access to the enforcer captured in San Francisco. Meanwhile, Laws was going to sift through the data SPG provided. They offered to mirror the hard drive, but Laws was old-school. He preferred paper and pencil. So it was that they left the SPG with two boxes of paper, covering every piece of data they’d ripped from the hard drive.