Engaging his Enemy (Shattered SEALs #4) - Amy Gamet Page 0,43

bullet-proof vests, night-vision goggles, and a full pack of supplies and ammunition. Trace wore scuba gear, an underwater defense gun by his side, and a pack that included underwater demolition explosives. He would go into the water upstream from the warehouse and berth, while the men would approach on foot through the darkness.

Sloan and Champion were already there and had alerted Razorback when they saw activity at the warehouse hours earlier, though they hadn’t gotten a good visual on exactly who’d gone inside, and no one had come out.

It was dusk when Moto and the men arrived, joining Sloan and Champion in a field of shipping containers stacked three high with a decent view of the berth. In the distance, a haze of fog hovered over the river, a testament to the unseasonably cool night.

Sloan held what looked like a video game controller with a small screen. “The ship’s about halfway down the river. ETA, fifteen minutes out.”

Razorback peered at the image on the screen. “Don’t go crashing that drone into the river like the last one. Shit cost me an arm and a leg.”

“It was the ocean, and it wasn’t my fault.”

“Whatever. Just keep it in the air, frogman. How many men you got on the ship?”

“Looks like three, just like last time,” said Sloan.

“Plus two or three in the warehouse,” said Moto. “Plus however many show up when the boat gets here. No sign of DeRegina?”

Sloan shook his head. “Negative.”

Moto grunted. “Fucker was probably only here last time to gloat.”

“Remember the plan,” said Razorback, and Moto stifled an eye roll. They’d already been over this time and again, but after the fiasco last time, he knew Razorback wanted to get it right. “As soon as the ship drops anchor, Trace will set the charges on the hull. Sloan and Champion breach the warehouse with tear gas and subdue any tangos on premises. Cuff ’em, don’t kill ’em if you can avoid it.”

“Roger that,” said Sloan.

“The rest of us will take the ship, with Trace watching the water for anyone who tries to get away. If we get more company between now and then, we play whack-a-mole until they’re no longer a threat. We have the sniper rifle if we need it. Worst-case scenario, if we lose the upper hand, we have Trace in the water and the ship wired to explode. The threat of losing the whole cargo is our get-out-of-jail-free card.”

Moto didn’t like the odds. Sure, they had a strong offense, but they had no idea what they were up against. Calling the feds was out of the question, but he still didn’t like this uncertainty.

“Get your comm sets and your NVGs on,” said Razorback.

“Ten minutes out,” said Sloan. “Bringing the drone back to the landing zone on autopilot.” He turned off the screen and placed the control in his pack. “Ready?” he asked Champion.

“As I’ll ever be.” Champion nodded to Razorback and Moto. “Kick some ass, gentlemen.” They disappeared into the darkness.

Moto took out his gun and checked the magazine, taking a second from his tactical pack and tucking it in a pocket in his vest. He peered around the stack of shipping containers. A ship similar to the one loaded with fireworks moved slowly along the river toward them.

“Incoming,” said Razorback, and Moto turned to see the black sedan driving toward the berth. “Let the boat dock before we do anything.”

Through his NVGs, Moto could see the occupants of the sedan clearly. “DeRegina’s not there. A couple of big guys, no one else.”

The ship slowed to a crawl, coasting toward its berth, its hull reflecting the sedan’s headlights. Trace’s voice came over the comm set. “Setting the charges.”

Moto watched as the anchor descended from the ship, saying into his comm set, “Anchor deployed. Breach the warehouse.” The men got out of the sedan and headed for the ship. There were three of them. Moto zoomed in with his NVGs. “They’re armed.”

“So much for playing nice,” said Razorback, grabbing two smoke grenades. “Turn on thermal imaging. Here we go.” He chucked one smoke grenade at the men, the other between them to provide cover as he and Moto crossed to an open area and attacked.

Smoke filled the area, the thermal imaging on Moto’s headset the only way he could see through the dense plumes. Suddenly, Champion’s voice came over the comm set. “We have hostages! They came out of the warehouse just as we were heading in. We’re in a standoff, twenty yards apart.”

It was too