headset, then leveled the small compass latched to his vest. In the thin light, he found his azimuth, 110 degrees.
Aiming the antenna southwest over the stern port quarter, he tilted the rods to the stars at his best guess of 55 degrees above the horizon, where his satellite ought to be, and pushed the PTT button on his vest.
“Hallmark ops. Hallmark ops. Lima Bravo. Over.”
He repeated the call twice, switching the antenna’s direction each time to a different star, before his headset rustled.
“Lima Bravo, Hallmark ops. Been waiting to hear from you.”
“Roger that, Hallmark. I’ve been busy.”
“Hang on for Major Torres.”
In the seconds before the PRCC came on the line, Iris poked her head up from the open hatch. She asked, “Why do you call them Hallmark?”
“When you care to send the very best.”
In his ear, “Lima Bravo, PRCC here.”
“Major, Lima Bravo.”
“Good to hear from you. We were worried.”
“You were right.”
“What’s your status?”
“My status is, I’m hijacked.”
“Are you safe?”
“For now. That can change.”
“We’re aware of the pirates on board. Valnea’s distress signal reached us an hour ago. What intel can you give me?”
“Estimate twenty to twenty-four targets. All armed with AKs. Plenty of RPGs on board, too. Be advised the pirates have at least one hostage, the captain. Probably more.”
“LB, they’ve got the whole crew. There’s a US warship nearby, the Nicholas. The CO saw them execute a hostage in exchange for one of the pirates being shot. We thought it might have been you.”
Bojan.
“He was a Serb guard.”
“All right. Are you armed?”
“Affirmative.”
“Do you know the location of the hostages?”
“Negative.”
“What other intel can you provide?”
LB kept his mouth shut about the drones and Iris’s science project.
“Nothing else.”
Torres paused, likely conferring with others in the JOC. “Recommend you stay secure.”
“Until when?”
The PRCC paused again.
“Repeat, Sergeant. Recommend you stay secure.”
“And I repeat, Major. Till when?”
A second voice on the line cut in.
“Break break.”
Torres said, “Go ahead, Juggler.”
“Until I come get your ass.”
LB almost dropped the antenna in surprise. He had to lift it before the connection was broken.
“Wally?”
“Affirmative.”
“Where are you?”
“We’re on our way.”
“We?”
“The team.”
LB couldn’t believe this. Not Spetsnaz, Mossad, SEALs, SF, but his own pararescue unit had been handed the ship takedown. How the hell did that happen?
It didn’t matter. His PJ team was flying to rescue him. Never, ever, would he live this down. His own boys were coming for him. He stood with the mike to his lips, stymied.
“Will explain later,” Wally continued. “Can you recon? I want exact number and location of targets.”
LB gathered his wits to respond. “Major? You want me secure, or you want me recon?”
Torres reentered. “It’s Juggler’s mission.”
Wally said, “Recon.”
“Roger.”
“Still got your team radio?”
“Affirmative.”
“ETA your position oh-one-ten hours. Copy?”
LB checked his watch. Just over ninety minutes.
“Roger.”
Wally said, “PRCC, recommend we continue as fragged.” Torres answered. “Agree. Press mission. Will monitor this freq. You boys chat. Good luck. Out.”
Iris Cherlina stood at the top of the ladder, listening. LB glanced around the cargo deck to be sure he’d stayed unheard and unseen. Starlight glanced off the white steel field and tall lashing bridges. Forward, the running light on its mast cast a pallid sheet over the bow. LB expected a quarter moon soon after midnight.
“Juggler.”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks for not giving me any grief over this.”
“That comes later.”
“I figured. Look, I’m in a dicey spot right now. So be quick. What’s the plan?”
“Two jump teams. One HALO assault, six-man. One RAMZ, three-man.”
“Where’s your LZ?”
“RAMZ will be two miles behind the ship downwind. Assault team on the port wing, next to the bridge. Backstop team on the starboard wing. Take control of the wheelhouse and defend. Hunt down the pirates. Secure the ship.”
“Sounds tough.”
“You got a better idea, now’s a good time.”
“I’ll get back to you after I look around.”
“Can you do it? There’s a lot of pirates on board.”
“You remember all those times in South America? When you were still at the academy?”
“Yeah.”
“What did you think I was doing in the fucking jungle?”
“Roger.”
“Juggler.”
“Yeah.”
“What about the hostages?”
LB waited. He hardened his gaze at the star far beyond the reach of the antenna, as if speaking to Wally behind his sunglasses.
“Why didn’t you ask me to recon the hostages?”
“Need to know, LB.”
“What does that mean?”
“Get me the intel. Be careful. Juggler out.”
The line went cold. LB held the antenna in place for more seconds before folding it away.
“Go down,” he told Iris.
“Why?”
“I’ve got a job to do.”
“Is someone coming?”
“Yeah. My unit. They’re coming to get me. It’s humiliating.”
“How is that possible?”
“I’m supposed to be the rescuer. I’ll take some shit