23:48 / 11:48 P.M. IDT
The four quadcopter drones released their payloads of four flashbang missiles, each ten seconds after the one before. The projectiles plunged to the long bow of the yacht and detonated. Every time a new batch hit, the IRGC guards just starting to recover from the last barrage were once again thrown into confusion. Meanwhile, from out of the dark came four rigid-hulled inflatables—two to the bow, one to the stern, and one off the starboard quarter next to the garage.
Nir was in the boat off the port bow. When the boat was alongside, grappling hooks were shot up over the railing on the upper deck. The attached rope was threaded through a powered ascender, and he, Imri, and Dima were pulled up to the deck. Yaron and Doron were at the starboard quarter. After Lahav had shut down the scrambler, Nicole would restore power to that part of the boat and remotely open the garage.
The gunfire began first at the starboard while Nir was still climbing over the railing. Omer Azoulai was leading his team on that side of the boat. Imri took lead, followed by Nir, then Dima. They moved forward toward the bridge.
Bullets whizzed past, and Nir could feel a tug on his pant leg by his calf. The three dropped to the deck. Imri and Dima opened fire. Since Nir didn’t trust his aim, he’d agreed to shoot only if necessary.
“Clear,” said Imri, indicating he’d dealt with the threat.
Nir didn’t feel any new pain in his leg, so he stood, and the three began moving forward again. Upon reaching the stairs to the bridge, they squatted and ascended slowly. Gunfire continued from all around the upper deck, but none appeared directed toward them. When they reached the top step, Imri peeked above the window line. A shot rang out, and his helmet flew off his head. He fell backward into the handrail, and Nir grabbed him to keep him from flipping over. He was out cold.
Nir passed him down to Dima, who began assessing his injury. Meanwhile, Nir pulled the pins on a flashbang. Using a breaching tool, he smashed a window to his left. Gunfire erupted. Nir reached to the right, opened the door, and rolled in the grenade.
“Flashbang,” he said to Dima. They both closed their eyes tightly and opened their mouths to help offset the percussive slam.
Whoomp!
Nir pushed through the door, saw an IRGC soldier stumbling backward, and put him down. Two other men cowered on the bridge’s floor. One was wearing a captain’s uniform. The other was maybe a tech.
“Sitrep,” came Azoulai’s voice over the com.
“Upper aft cleared.”
“Upper bow cleared.”
“Garage cleared.” Nir recognized Yaron’s voice.
“Bridge cleared,” he reported. Then he watched as Dima carried Imri in and laid him down on the floor. Dima turned and gave Nir a thumbs-up.
Thank You, God.
“How many down?”
“Three.”
“Four.”
“Nil,” said Yaron.
“Two,” Nir said.
“With the six before, that gives us fifteen. So we have at least five more guns out there.”
Nir had a hunch. “Were all the dirties IRGC?”
All answered in the affirmative.
“I would bet the rest are with Ali Kamal. They’re his boys.” Turning toward the captain, he said, “Kamal’s suite. Give me a number.”
“It’s 305,” the man said with a shaky voice.
Nir pictured the schematic in his mind. “Third level. End of stern hall. Be careful. I’m guessing they’re all there. And there’s one more Quds guy around.”
“Root,” said Azoulai, then gave orders for taking the hallway.
Nir turned to the man next to the captain and spoke in Arabic. “You know where all the staff on this boat are hiding, don’t you?”
The man nodded quickly. Nir squatted and said, “Something very bad is about to happen on this yacht. I have boats to take you and the crew away from here before it does. I need you to gather them and take them to the garage. Do you understand me?”
Again, the man nodded.
“Listen, your instinct is to not trust me, but you know who I am, don’t you? You know I’m the one they had locked in that room?”
“I know that.”
“Good. One of you helped me. I’m here to give that help back. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“Do you trust me?”
“I trust you.”
Nir put his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Good. Now go save their lives.”
He scrambled to his feet and hurried out the door.
“I can help,” said the captain, standing.
“Sit down. I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you, which isn’t too far right now. You had to know all about what’s been going on here. You’ll get out of this alive—but only if you play your cards right.”
Nir heard a groan and saw Imri rolling onto his side. The young man threw up, then grimaced.
“Dude, you’re polishing my boots,” Dima said, stepping back from the mess.
“Hey, achi, you look worse than I do,” Nir said with a smile.
“Impossible.” A trickle of blood trailed sideways down Imri’s forehead. “Israeli-made armor. I’m a fan.”
“Good. Rest a minute, then we’ll hopefully have a date in the salon.”
A long burst of muffled gunfire erupted from somewhere down below. It was followed by an explosive blast, then a second. After that the gunfire grew more sporadic.
“Third deck cleared. All dirties are down.”
Azoulai said, “We’ve got three in custody. We’re ready for our mystery guest.”
“On our way,” Nir responded.
Dima helped Imri to his feet, and the three walked down the stairs to the salon. Only once did Dima make a comment about how pitiful the two of them were.
By the time they arrived at the door, Nir could hardly walk. He was exhausted and leaned heavily on the Russian. His shirt was soaked, and he smelled like sweat and blood.
“You good?” Imri asked.
“I’m good.” Nir let go of Dima, stood to his full height.
Fake it until you make it.
He walked in.