Air Space Over the Pacific Ocean
August 25
Cruising at 34,000 feet, the four turboprop engines whipped the thin air behind the six-bladed propellers, pushing the large aircraft along at 350 knots. Inside the cavernous cargo bay of the specially-modified HC-130J Combat King aircraft, the SGIT operators were busy planning the mission, although authorization from the President still had not been received.
Jim was pointing to a photograph of the Panda Star; his team of operators were circled around the table, listening intently. “Like most oil exploration ships, the Panda Star has a helipad for ferrying crew on and off the ship through normal rotations. That will be our drop zone.”
Ghost raised his eyebrows. “Not a very large target to land on, especially if the ship is underway.”
“Once we are within range, our aircraft will be tracking the radio beacon from the ship. The location of the Panda Star will be continuously updated, in real time, and fed to our jump computers.” Each operator wore a small but powerful computer on his wrist that calculated the glide path to a pre-determined GPS coordinate. Each man would steer his parachute to follow the glide path. Only this time, the drop coordinate would be moving.
“Relax. Oil exploration ships are not known for their speed,” Jim added.
“And if we miss?” Iceberg asked the question, knowing it was on everyone’s mind.
“Don’t,” Jim said.
“Let me get this straight, sir. Night jump, high altitude opening, gliding to a moving target only a little larger than my first apartment.”
“That’s right, Iceberg. You got a problem with it?”
“Would it make any difference if I said yes?”
“Look,” Jim said, “if it was easy, someone else would have been given the job. None of you earned your position in SGIT by being second best. We’re going to be gliding down from in front of the ship. At the last moment, flare your chute, circle, and drop onto the helipad.”
“Piece of cake,” Bull said.
After a long moment with no further questions, Jim continued, “Our mission call sign is “Swordfish.” Once on board, we’ll secure the deck. Homer and Ghost, you two cover the forward half of the ship. Iceberg and Magnum, you cover the aft. Bull, you will come with me as we search; first the vicinity of the crane for evidence and then move our way to the moon pool. If there are other rocket motors, fueling equipment, warheads—anything that might be military in nature—we are to take the ship and all personnel under our control, and call in the Marines.”
“What about the crew?” Iceberg asked.
“We expect most of the crew to be asleep in their cabins. We will not take the bridge unless we find just cause. We are to maintain a very low profile. If all goes well, the crew will never know they were visited in the middle of the night. If you run into a crewmember out for an evening stroll, avoid him or her if possible. If that is not possible, use your Taser. Use lethal force only as a last resort. Understood?”
A chorus of “Yes, sir!” gave Commander Nicolaou the answer he expected. His team was exceptionally well disciplined, and they had performed admirably through dozens of missions, each of them equally dangerous and challenging.
“Remember, this is a Chinese-flagged vessel. Expect it to be crewed by Chinese nationals. It will not go over well with the State Department if you have to explain why you killed an unarmed civilian.”
“How long to complete your inspection?” This question from Magnum.
Jim pointed to a schematic of the ship. It showed the decks in a cross section of the vessel, running from bow to stern. “Bull and I will focus on the main deck. This is where the moon pool is located, and it’s where the base of the towers are anchored. I figure ten minutes, tops. We’re collecting photographic data mostly, but also paint samples—especially if it looks freshly applied or scorched.”
“Exfiltration?” Bull asked.
“You’re gonna get wet. On my signal, everyone will converge on the moon pool. Your load-out includes a compact rebreather, good for about five minutes underwater, and a one-man sled. Developed with funding from DARPA, it’s small but powerful. It’s still in limited testing, so consider yourselves privileged to be the first to use this kit outside of training. Shed your BDUs prior to entering the water to reduce drag.” Each operator was clothed in a neoprene wet suit underneath standard Chinese-made fatigues issued to the PLA, or Peoples Liberation Army.
Jim continued, “To further reduce drag and conserve battery power, weapons are to be discarded once we have cleared the ship. We will stay in tight formation about one meter under the surface until the rebreathers are expended. Your GPS has been preloaded with the rendezvous point, which is expected to be about two clicks south from your landing coordinates when you set foot on the helipad. The computer will calculate the route automatically, triggered when you stop descending. So even if you miss the helipad, you will still have the proper coordinates. If you get separated for any reason, follow your GPS.” Jim indicated a spot of ocean on a detailed navigational chart.
“Then what?” Bull asked.
“On my order, the Combat King will come in low and slow and drop an inflatable fitted with a silenced outboard. Everyone has NVGs, so the Zodiac will not be hard to see. Just in case, it will have a short-range radio beacon. Each of your GPS units will pick up the signal. Once in the Zodiac, we’ll motor to new coordinates here.” Jim pointed at another spot of open ocean. “At 0430 hours, the USS New Mexico will surface and we can all get a good, hot meal.”
“And if things don’t go as planned?” Magnum asked.
“Then we hold the ship until the Marines arrive. A V22 Osprey is circling here.” Jim pointed at a location on the chart. “On my order, the Osprey will fly to our position and a platoon of reinforcements will fast-rope onto the helipad. We will take control of the vessel until the Navy arrives. Questions?”
Ghost spoke up. “What about the other ship?”
“The Royal Seeker will receive a visit from Brunei military.”
All of the SGIT operators exchanged questioning glances.
“Don’t ask,” Jim said. “It’s need-to-know information. Other questions?”
“What can we expect for backup if the Panda Star is really hot?” Iceberg said.
“The man next to you is your backup until the Marines arrive. The Combat King will stay on station to provide radio relay and air cover should the Chinese attempt to intervene, although that is not expected.”
Jim cast his gaze across his assembled team. In every face he read confidence and determination. “Anything else?”
Only silence was returned.
“Very well. Get some rest. We’re still on hold until authorization is received from President Taylor.”
Ninety minutes later, and still two hours from the drop zone, Commander Jim Nicolaou received the message he’d been hoping for.