figures moving about, as well as some livestock. He also saw fires burning, probably in barrels, and other unusual heat sources. Most important, though, he was getting a reading on a boat that had just pulled up to the beach near the camp. This was most likely the same boat that had carried the two pirates to the Georgia June. Its engine was still throwing off heat.
Nolan reported all this to those on board.
“Gotta be the place,” Batman said. “So hang on.”
* * *
IT TOOK THE copter just three minutes to spiral down to wave-top level.
They were soon flying off the eastern edge of Craggy Two Cay. From here, the team members used their standard night-vision goggles to peer through the sea mist and into the island’s jungle beyond.
The encampment they saw was not quite what they’d been expecting. Again, they knew the pirate gang had access to a lot of money. And though it seemed to go through their hands like water, they always had the ability to make more. But this place looked more like a city dump than a hideout. Shanty shacks were surrounded by mounds of trash and debris with empty and smashed liquor bottles everywhere. Piles of broken and rusted outboard motor parts covered the small beach that led from the camp to the river. Pigs were running free everywhere.
“Some Somalis live better than this,” Crash said.
Nolan and Batman were sweating badly now inside their flight suits in the heavy, 80-degree night air. Crash and Gunner, on the other hand, were cool and comfortable.
But not for long.
The copter came to a hover just off the island’s east-facing reef. The dividing river ran through this reef, past the pirates’ camp, and then on to the other side of the island. Called a “bight,” this was not unusual topography for the Bahamas. And it would be key for what happened next.
“Ready back there?” Nolan yelled over his shoulder to Crash and Gunner.
He heard two “Rogers,” in reply.
With that, both men jumped out, hitting the water with a great splash.
Nolan waited until he received a thumbs up from them, then gave Batman the signal to go. The copter roared straight up, soon disappearing back into the night.
Crash and Gunner swam the hundred yards in through the channel. Their intent was to observe the pirates’ hideout, SEAL-style. The mild current was going with them, so they soon reached a point about twenty-five feet off the camp’s river shoreline. With their faces blackened and their eyes aided by waterproofed night-vision goggles, they started the recon.
What they saw was more of the same: lots of junk, lots of garbage, lots of engine parts and debris. There were fifteen shacks in all, arranged in a rough semicircle around a huge bonfire. Everywhere around the shacks the ground sparkled because there was so much glass from so many smashed liquor bottles. Amid all this refuse stood a tree holding a satellite dish used for receiving TV and radio broadcasts.
Crash and Gunner counted more than thirty gunmen around the camp. These had to be the hardcore pirates, Captain Black’s senior men, the ones privileged enough to actually live, eat and breathe within sight of their bloodthirsty leader. Some were gathered near the bonfire, apparently gambling. A few were fighting each other with knives and fists. The rest were drinking by the river’s edge, not far from where Crash and Gunner were quietly treading water.
The Whiskey members could see no signs of security, no lookouts, no sentries around the camp—which was good. But there was also a lot of firepower in evidence. Most dangerous were a pair of .50-caliber chain guns, one set up at each end of the camp. These nasty weapons were connected to ammo drums containing hundreds of rounds. It was obvious they were put in place to fire at any boats approaching from either end of the bight. But set up on tripods, they could just as easily be trained upward and used against a threat from above.
The pirates also had an open-sided shack filled with AK-47s hanging on racks for easy access. A similar structure next to this armory was full of weapons still in their packing crates. Gunner figured these were arms the pirates had for sale.
There were also stacks of rifles and shotguns set up next to shacks, and many others scattered haphazardly on the ground.
“There must be five weapons for every guy here,” Gunner said to Crash.
“At least,” Crash replied.
Most important, the camp was built close to