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"Joey, now!" stage-whispered Beasley.
In unison they bolted up, hung out their windows, and shot both men, who dropped, even as a third soldier was emerging from the second truck.
Before he could get back inside to take cover, and before either Ramirez or Beasley could fire, the soldier's chest blew outward, and he slumped below his open door.
Ramirez detected movement in the passenger's seat. Yet another troop.
As he shifted his aim, a thump came from the canvas window in back, and blood clouded the windshield.
"Bravo Team, this is Diaz. You're clear now. We're coming down."
"Roger that," said Beasley.
Ramirez turned back into the SUV and slumped in his seat, taking long, slow breaths. "She could've told us they stopped," he snapped.
Beasley frowned. "She does that." He opened his door and started out of the SUV.
"So much for the quiet exit," said Ramirez, joining Beasley outside. They grimaced over the dead soldiers, the fourth lying in a pulp inside the other car.
The sight of death hardly bothered them. The ramifications of those deaths did. "They've lost contact with their unit."
"Yep. We have their attention," said Beasley with a groan. "Give me a hand with these bodies."
Ramirez snorted and gestured with his sling. "One is all you're getting."
SAND SPIT PIER
XIAMEN HARBOR, CHINA
APRIL 2012
Montana had slipped in under the patrol boat, gliding into the pass between Haicang and Gulangyu Island. She had headed northeast, coming around to the east side of the spit, where SEAL Chiefs Ta
Ta
"And that is?"
"We don't understand why Mitchell and his team didn't join the navy."
Gummerson had gri
Now they sprinted up from the beach and reached the woods, where they wove a breathtaking path through the trees and neared the pier, just as Gummerson called to say there'd been trouble back at the boat dock. Four soldiers dead. More undoubtedly on the way. The Ghosts were loading up now, but they couldn't sit at the dock. They'd have to putter down the coast a thousand yards or so, slip up to another pier, and wait there, while hell broke loose behind them.
So Ta
Ta
They moved in.
FISHING BOAT
XIAMEN HARBOR, CHINA
APRIL 2012
Mitchell had ordered Jenkins and Beasley to haul Buddha's body onto the fishing boat and lay him along the rail. Boy Scout lay beside him. The DIA had been emphatic about returning the bodies and not allowing them to remain in China, where they might provide clues that could topple an even larger network of spies still in the country, some of whom also worked for the National Security Agency.
Mitchell remained on the deck at the stern, monitoring the SEALs' progress via his HUD, while Jenkins took the wheel. They chugged slowly away from the pier, everyone down low, weapons at the ready. Dark waves thumped and lapped at the hull, and their foamy wake was quickly swallowed back by the harbor.
About a kilometer ahead, to the southwest, the pier jutted out from the sand spit, and Mitchell barely made out the silhouette of the crane with his naked eye.
"Well that didn't take long," said Diaz, pointing toward the stern.
A pair of headlights came down the shoreline road, and the vehicle appeared, another military truck turning toward the boat docks.
"Jenkins, throttle up a little bit," said Mitchell.
"You got it, Boss."
"Joey, how are you doing?" Mitchell asked, raising his voice over the engine's higher-pitched gurgles and whine.
"Alex gave me that shot," answered Ramirez. "Arm's numb."
"The dragon didn't pounce on Taiwan, but it stepped on us pretty good, eh?" asked Mitchell.
"Yes, sir. But it was worth it."
"I agree," added Diaz. "In more ways than one." She pursed her lips and nodded at Mitchell.
"Captain, I can see the patrol boat," said Jenkins. "And I'm not sure, but I think she sees us."
"Get up close to that pier!" shouted Mitchell. "Now!"
Mitchell brought up his tactical map and studied the patrol boat, red diamonds flashing over its dark outline displayed in his HUD.
A flickering light emanated from the end of the pier, and Mitchell zoomed in on that area, even as Jenkins said, "Fire on the pier, Captain."
"All right, everybody. Stand by. Let's see if they take the bait."
SAND SPIT PIER
XIAMEN HARBOR, CHINA
APRIL 2012
Ta
The patrol boat was already en route to investigate. If Ta
Ta
A minute later he came up under one of the pilings and stole a breath.
He waited another thirty seconds, then began to grow tense. Abruptly, Phillips's head popped up a few meters behind him. "We're all set. Come on!"
Together they swam along the pier, and by the time they reached the shore and huddled beside the first pair of pilings, the patrol boat was drawing up on the crane and barge.
"Ghost Lead, this is SEAL support. Get ready for a big salute to the Chinese who invented gunpowder!"
Ta
"They're almost lined up," said Phillips.
"Good."
"Don't move," screamed someone in Mandarin.
Ta
Though his Mandarin was rudimentary, Ta
"No, you don't move." The man glanced up and began screaming to those still aboard the fuel barge, something about him catching thieves who might be trying to hijack their shipment. He couldn't tell in the dark that they were Americans, especially while they wore their dive suit hoods.
Ta
FISHING BOAT
XIAMEN HARBOR, CHINA
APRIL 2012
Mitchell realized with a start that a third individual was at the end of the pier with the two SEALs, and his attempts to contact SEAL Chief Ta