Aden, forty-four miles north of the Somali coast. This was where the freighter, if it did not deviate, would be when the PJs popped their canopies. Another mark a quarter mile down-range showed where the LZ would be when the jumpers landed.
The navigator ticked the release point 2,800 meters ahead of the ship, heading 215°. Doc and Wally checked his figures and agreed.
The navigator folded the map to return to the cockpit. He shook hands, shouting, “Good luck. O2 in fifteen.” The plane would soon be climbing to jump altitude, where the team and flight crew would switch to oxygen.
Wally strapped into his own chute. Doc conducted his jump-master inspection, tugging on every container’s belts and buckles, confirming the route and security of all lines. When he was done, Wally checked Doc’s rig.
The team conducted a last test of their communications. Every PJ broadcast loud and clear to the others. Weapons were secured, NVGs turned on and off, helmets thumped like footballers. To maintain surprise at the LZ, the night jump would be made without chem lights. Ten minutes out, the signal came from the cockpit to switch to oxygen. The team strapped masks across their noses and mouths, twisted open their bottles. They settled in the seats along the fuselage. Staying on his feet, Wally thumbed the intercom talk button.
“Any questions?” He checked his watch. “Robey’s team is under canopy.”
No one wisecracked about the young LT.
Wally looked over Doc, Quincy, Dow, Mouse, Jamie, all seated along the fuselage. They were laden with weaponry as much as medicine. His gut clutched to think he was commanding a search-and-destroy op, something he’d not done in over ten years. He put hands to his hips and could figure nothing to say. These men were all professionals, capable and committed. They needed no pep talk to do the job. But what if something happened, and later he recalled how he’d stood here silent? What if there were things he should have said, and didn’t?
“Let’s focus, stay cool, and do what we can. One thing I know for sure. We can do a shitload.”
It wasn’t eloquent. It would have to do.
“Anybody want to pray, let’s take a second.”
Wally watched his team’s eyes above their oxygen masks, glad to see everyone’s lowered brows. He left them to it. The green bulbs went out, leaving the cargo bay lit only by the red ready light marking the final minutes before the jump.
“Hoo-ya.”
The team belted out, “Hoo-ya!” maxing the intercom.
Behind Wally, the loadmaster punched a button. The HC-130’s ramp whined, parting from the fuselage at the top. The panel descended until it leveled with the floor, opening the rear of the aircraft to the air. Wally walked closer to the edge, taking handholds against the jiggling floor and whipping wind. Beyond the lowered door, beneath the silhouette of the HC-130’s tail, the night spread spangled and clear. Far below, somewhere on the water three and a half miles down, the Valnea’s pirates ran for home. Hiding somewhere on board, LB watched the sky.
Bathed in red, Wally gave his PJs the thumbs-up to rise and join them.
Chapter 29
On board CMA CGN Valnea
Gulf of Aden
Yusuf and Suleiman spoke to every man on the starboard rail. They handed out cigarettes and talked disparagingly of the American warship tracking them. Yusuf did not know these men well; Suleiman had been in charge of picking them. From each Yusuf collected name, village, subclan, and family. The pirates bowed to him when Suleiman shared the news of extra shares for all from the ransom.
Reaching the bow, four men gathered in the white glow of the steaming light. Yusuf leaned over the rail to look down at the bulbous bow skipping over the sea, carving the great crest that had almost thwarted them four hours ago. The frightened helmsman, the one who’d grabbed Yusuf’s feet to steady him in the skiff, came forward sheepishly. Yusuf shook his hand.
“Mahad sanid.”
The pirate lowered his forehead to touch Yusuf’s knuckles.
All four were grateful for the quiet of the night and the ease of the hijacking, though one of their original number had been shot during the boarding. While they appreciated that man’s sacrifice, he was not of their village. When Suleiman mentioned the added shares, they asked if the dead pirate’s family would also benefit from the bonus. Suleiman asked what they thought about it. They said no.
Yusuf kept his face to the wind. The horizon lay bare, with no trace of land. He wished, only for