Operation Sea Ghost - By Mack Maloney Page 0,28

recognizable characteristics, trying to find it from four miles up was virtually impossible.

So Nolan and Alpha had no choice. They would have to set down and look for the missing ship up close.

* * *

NOLAN WENT FORWARD to the Shin’s cockpit and briefed the Stormos.

Gottabang was some distance away from any airport or Indian military bases, so the chance of them being picked up on local radar at the moment was remote. But just to be safe, the Stormos would have to bring the Shin almost straight down to the water’s surface, so as not to show up on the edge of someone’s long-range radar.

With this in mind, the pilots announced that everyone on board should strap in. Then they put the Shin-1 into a long, slow spiral dive, aiming for a point about a mile off Gottabang’s north side. Nolan went back to his observation blister for a moment, his night-vision scope on full power as the big plane fell out of the sky. The closer they got to Earth, the more apparent it became that the waves off the breaking beach were indeed turbulent, again a by-product of the extra-high tides that ran the dying ships up onto the sand for their final disassembling.

Add to this an ink-black night with all the smoke obscuring an otherwise bright three-quarter moon. Nolan swallowed hard. He got nervous anytime he had to fly one of the team’s copters at night. Now he was plunging almost straight down, toward a dark, unruly sea, in a multi-ton airplane, its four propeller engines absolutely screaming in protest.

He finally scrambled back to his high-quality leather seat and strapped in—but he was quickly pressed up against its back cushion, absorbing g-forces like those in a supersonic jet. Only once did he manage to look across the compartment, and that was to see distress on the faces of the Senegals.

Normally very cool customers, if they were concerned, then everyone should be.

It seemed to take forever, but then one of the Stormos yelled over the plane’s intercom: “Preparatevi a dire una preghiera!”

Brace yourself and say a prayer.…

They hit the water a moment later.

It was like going through an airplane crash in slow motion. The giant flying boat bounced once, came down again, bounced a second time, more violently than the first, came down a second time, skidded left, skidded right, bounced again, went nose up, then came down hard for a third time.

But this time, it stayed down.

They careened along the choppy water, still banging around violently, but at least they didn’t go airborne again. The engines were screeching so loud, Nolan couldn’t imagine anyone within a hundred miles not hearing their arrival. But that didn’t matter to him at the moment. He just wanted the big plane to come to a stop.

And it did, finally. Out of nervous habit, the first thing Nolan did, after exhaling, was check his watch.

It was exactly midnight.

“Right on schedule,” he thought.

He looked around the cabin, wondering how all the luxury items had managed to survive landings like that. Everyone gave him a reassuring thumbs-up.

“Les prières ont travaillé!” one of the Senegals said. Rough translation: The prayers worked.…

Now, on to phase two. Alpha had given themselves five minutes to get ready for their recon. They began by aligning their GPS units. Then they would start climbing into their standard armored battle suits.

But first, Gunner went looking for the head.

That’s when things started to go wrong.

* * *

GUNNER HAD MADE his way almost to the front of the huge plane, when he spotted a door with Arabic writing on it. The door was unlocked, so he went in.

But instead of finding the lavatory, he realized he was in one of the plane’s private cabins.

And it was here that he found Emma Simms.

Feet propped up on a chair, iPod earbuds in place, she was calmly painting her fingernails.

She looked up at him nonchalantly, seeming neither concerned nor frightened. Even after the violent touchdown, not one hair was out of place.

Gunner couldn’t believe it.

“Have we landed yet?” she asked him, taking out the earbuds.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he roared back at her.

She ignored his question. Instead she asked him, “Can you bring me a chilled water then?”

“What are you doing here?” Gunner demanded of her again.

She went back to doing her nails. “I decided I wanted to see this Banging Place you girls were going on and on about. It will be good character research. End of story. Now—five ice cubes in

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