“It’s already twenty-two hundred,” Jackson said in a low voice. “They’ve been held hostage for nearly three hours.”
“Damn all that red tape,” Raptor said.
“It’s like the different agencies were in a pissing contest,” Troy said. “The priority should’ve been rescuing the civilians and military officers being held, not fighting over who’s in control.” The bureaucracy they’d had to cut through to start the rescue had been bullshit. Various agencies were claiming jurisdiction. The FBI wanted to get involved. NCIS had additional agents on scene. The San Diego PD wanted to negotiate.
The hell with everyone else. The police department and other agencies could fight over control of the pier if they wanted, but nothing compared to what the Navy had at its disposal. The SEAL team was already en route. The Pentagon wasn’t willing to sit around while negotiators attempted to get in contact with the gunmen. The police department’s hostage negotiators had tried that shit for an hour and failed. Whatever the gunmen wanted didn’t involve negotiating at this point. The surveillance footage from the pier was still being reviewed, and no IDs had been made.
Their CO spoke over the comms channel. “I just received a new update. We have confirmation of seventy people on board. Fifty guests, fifteen staff including the party planner, and five crew members.”
“And still no word on the number of gunmen?” Blake asked.
“Negative. The update came from one of the women who called 911 earlier. She owns a bakery and was on the boat this afternoon delivering a cake. The event planner sent her a text and said armed gunmen were storming the boat.”
“Holy shit,” Troy muttered. He clenched his jaw, looking out at the dark water. For some reason, he still couldn’t get the redhead out of his mind. He couldn’t imagine a woman like her being stuck in a hostage standoff. She’d seemed so fragile. He’d carried her down the damn stairs.
His team had certainly rescued plenty of innocent civilians over the years. This mission was no different from any other.
“The woman’s been unable to get in touch with the party planner.”
“Most likely the gunmen took everyone’s phones,” Blake said.
“You’ve seen the list of the naval officers onboard and their wives,” the CO continued. “We don’t know much about the catering staff or other guests of the admiral. NCIS was supposed to have done background checks on everyone who’d be on board, but they don’t have that list for us yet. According to the baker, the event planner is named Caitlyn Thomas. She’s twenty-seven and owns her own business. She’ll be able to ID both the guests and staff when you locate her.”
“You think the gunmen will try to disguise themselves?” Jackson asked.
“Anything’s possible. It sounds like some of them must have been hidden onboard. It stands to reason they could’ve had disguises, additional clothes, or other weapons already stashed on the yacht. They might try to blend in with the other guests in the confusion.”
“Damn it,” Ethan said. “Shouldn’t the agents have swept the boat prior to the anniversary party? This is all sorts of fucked up. And why don’t they have the entire guest list?”
“That’s a good question,” the CO said. “I don’t have an answer for that.”
“We’re five minutes out from the drop point,” Blake said in a clipped tone. “The yacht hasn’t moved in well over an hour. It’ll make boarding it easier since it’s just sitting there in the ocean. We’ll dive in, approach the vessel underwater, and board from different sides.”
“Copy that, over and out,” Commander Hutchinson said.
They remained silent on their final approach, the yacht growing larger as they moved in closer. Lights were on in some of the cabins and rooms, but no one appeared to be moving around on deck. The engines had been shut off as well, and it was quiet out there in the middle of the water.
“Don’t they even have a lookout?” Ethan asked in surprise. “I don’t see anyone on deck.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling,” Logan muttered. “Their entire plan is bullshit. Even if they wanted intel, how the fuck are they planning to escape?”
“Maybe they’re not,” Troy said. “They could be communicating info back to the rest of their team, assuming the admiral or other officers even tell them anything. What if they blow the whole damn boat?”
“We don’t know that they have explosives,” Blake said.
“Yeah, well, like the CO said—anything is possible.” Troy took off his night vision goggles, checking his dive gear. They’d rely on their underwater navigation boards to get to the yacht in the dark water. Ironically, they probably could’ve gotten closer given that no one appeared to be watching. They couldn’t chance being detected though. The worst thing would be for the hostages to be shot the moment the hijackers realized the cavalry was here. Boarding a boat that wasn’t moving would make things easier.
Troy glanced over at the Special Warfare Combatant-Craft Crewmen navigating the boat. They’d remain onboard dealing with any interference on the water while the SEAL team boarded the yacht. Troy pulled on his facemask, watching as his teammates did the same.
Blake signaled to them, and then one-by-one, they jumped into the water. Troy could feel the cold through his wetsuit and wondered how the people who’d jumped overboard had managed earlier when they escaped. The Pacific Ocean wouldn’t have been bad in the warmer months, but the water was damn cold now. He looked down at his compass and swiftly swam through the ocean depths, his team silently approaching the vessel. Troy and his teammates drilled in all conditions, and this was what they prepared for. Search and seizure of boats. Hostage rescue. Taking out armed insurgents.
It never got easier knowing innocents were in harm’s way, but it made him damn proud to complete missions that others couldn’t. To serve
