In the communications-and-control center, the calm commander, James Chervenko, broke the radio connection with Admiral Brose back in Washington. His eyes, narrowed by decades at sea, had become laserlike slits of intensity as he had listened to Brose’s orders.
He removed his headset and turned to It. Commander Gary Kozloff. “You’re go.”
“Right,” Kozloff acknowledged. No surprise. He had guessed. “Chopper prepared?” Kozloff was one of those extraordinary SEALs who was all muscle and brains. Long, lean, and fiercely proud of his work, he crackled with purpose. His presence seemed to fill communications-and-control, giving momentary reassurance to everyone around.
“Ten minutes.”
“We’ll be ready.”
Chervenko nodded as if to say that was to be expected. “Remember, Commander, the overriding mission protocol is total secrecy — you were never there. The first hint you might be discovered, you’re gone.”
“Yessir.”
“We’ll keep close tabs on the sub and the Empress. If anything looks hinky, I’ll radio to abort. Keep your communications on at all times.”
“Will do, sir.”
“Good luck, Gary.”
“Thanks, Jim.” Gary Kozloff gave a short smile. “Nice night for a swim.”
On the shadowy deck, Kozloff’s team of four SEALs were suited and ready, waiting for the order. When Kozloff reappeared, they jumped expectantly to their feet. He nodded, and they did a final check of their equipment.
“You have your magnetic climbing gear?” It would be critical tonight.
When the air resonated with “aye, sir,” he said, “Let’s hit the chopper.” They made their way aft to the SH- 60 Seahawk. Silhouetted against the starry horizon, it looked like a giant, menacing bird. The wind was light, carrying the scents of diesel and salt water. Inside the Seahawk, attached to its lowering rig, was a special Combat Rubber Raiding Craft (CRRC) Zodiac, already loaded for the operation. The five SEALs climbed aboard the chopper, the rotors erupted into full power, and the great craft rose into the night and banked left. No lights showing, it quickly melded with the darkness as it circled out of sight toward the Empress, ten miles ahead. The air around them thundered with the chopping blades. As his ears grew accustomed to the noise, It.
Commander Kozloff watched the reflections of the moon and stars off the rippled sea below. He was worried, and that was unlike him. If you prepared properly, you knew you and your team would execute well. That was the only guarantee anyone got. But this time, they were using the new, small Zodiac and the new climbing equipment designed specifically for a helicopter-delivered, clandestine boarding operation on a fully moving ship at sea. They knew their equipment, but there had been no time to practice the usual varied and complicated scenarios. He had the highest confidence in himself and his people. You could not be a SEAL otherwise. Still–
Abruptly, Kozloff brought his concentration back to the scene below.
They had reached the Empress and were hovering over it, as planned. The freighter was going about ten knots. Kozloff could see cargo, a partially lighted deck, and the usual ropes, gear, and hold covers.
There were three Chinese sailors — impossible to tell on this commercial freighter which one or ones were officers, if any — on the open bridge.
The trio were gazing up at the helicopter, expressions angry, and he worried again. Would they dive for cover while their ship fired? The plan was for the chopper to appear to be doing recon and then close-up surveillance. Innocent, not deadly. He waited, aware his men were also studying the bridge below, concerned about how the Chinese would react.
As two continued to glare up, the other got on the horn. In response, the helicopter swung left and right, as if waving … or doing a nautical nose-thumbing. The Chinese sailor broke his communications link, threw back his head, bellowed what was probably a string of obscenities, and shook his fist at the chopper. Kozloff liked that — the sailors had bought the surveillance ruse and expected nothing more dangerous from the Seahawk. As his SEALs chuckled, his spirits lifted.
The Seahawk resumed full speed and banked in such a wide arc away that they lost sight of the freighter. “Ready?” the pilot called into Kozloff’s ear receiver. Kozloff looked at his men. They gave him a thumbs-up. He barked into his pinpoint mike, “Ready. Take us down.” The Seahawk swept low to the swell of the open sea and hung there, vibrating. The SEALs pushed the Zodiac out the side hatch, and the lift operator lowered it to the surface. The SEALs hooked to the lift and went over the edge, one by one, and dropped into the water. For an instant, Kozloff had the usual double reaction — shock at the feeling of suspension that the water gave, and relief to be where he felt so at home. As the Zodiac bounced on the undulating sea two dozen feet away, Kozloff struck out in a crawl, pulling the water. It was black, impenetrable, but he did not notice. Focused on the operation, he clambered aboard, the others following. He started the electric outboard, and soon they were speeding toward the oncoming Empress. This was the safest direction to approach, where they ran less risk of being sucked into the ship. It was also faster, since the Empress was headed directly toward them. When the Empress came into view, the chopper was sweeping over it again, a noisy diversion. Kozloff studied the cargo ship, calculating and adjusting the Zodiac’s direction so that it would run parallel, not dead on. At just the right moment, he would turn hard to the right.
Protected by the darkness and the aerial insult of the helicopter, he would pilot the Zodiac to the Empress’s side, where his people would hook silently to the hull with the magnetic mooring. If all continued to go well, they would use the magnetic climbing gear to swarm up to the dark forward deck, where they would begin their critical search.
On the USS John Crowe, Commander Chervenko watched the Seahawk settle down onto its helipad in a perfect landing. He ducked under the still-turning rotors and ran toward the door. “Everything go okay?” he shouted to the pilot.
“Great, sir! They’re there.” Chervenko gave a brisk nod and hurried back down to communications-and- control. As he entered, his gaze instantly went to OS2 Fred Baum, who was concentrating on the radar screen. “Can you pick up the Zodiac, Baum?”
“No, sir. Way too small.”
“Hastings? You hearing anything?”
“Only the Empress’s screws and that sub that’s dogging us, sir,” Sonar Technician First-Class Matthew Hastings said.
“No one can pick up that electric motor behind the noise of the freighter.” Chervenko pursed his lips with satisfaction. “Good. Maybe our boys will pull it off.” He turned to leave and thought better of it.
“Keep alert. Watch for anything funny the Empress does, and?”
“Sir?”
Hastings at sonar was listening intently. His voice rose. “The sub. That Chinese sub is moving in fast! Real fast! She’s closing in on us!”
Chervenko grabbed an earphone and listened. The submarine was definitely approaching at full speed. “Anyone got anything else?” Another technician called out, “They’re arming torpedoes, sir! Running them in!”
Chervenko whirled to the radioman. “Call the abort! Abort!” The communications technician bent to his mike and yelled, “Abort! Abort!
Abort!”
The Zodiac pounded through the sea to within only a few feet of the towering steel side of the Empress. For the SEALs, it was like looking up at a skyscraper, except that the skyscraper was moving at a fast clip, while they were moving toward it and trying not to be sucked in, caught in the turbulence, or slammed against the side. Disorientation and surprise twists from the sea killed many. Still, Kozloff was accustomed to disorientation, and his brain was well trained to calculate exactly how to approach the looming freighter most safely, without cracking up against it.
He inched the Zodiac closer. Cold spray hit his face. The stink of oil and metal was oppressive. Without needing an order, the SEAL who was responsible leaned far out and clamped the magnetic docking device to the Empress on the first try. Water surged up over the Zodiac’s sides, drenching them. At the same time, the point SEAL activated his magnetic hooks and began to climb, a spider scaling a monolith. Soon the next SEAL climbed, then the next.
