Page 38 of Silk Shadow

Selfishly, she knew she'd give up the mine if it meant sparing her life. If it wasn't too late.

If only she'd taken her security more seriously. If only she'd listened to Viper. He’d tried to dissuade her, but she’d kept on until she’d gotten her way. Even Robert had tossed his concern aside, overridden it. And she'd done nothing to stop it.

This was her fault as much as his.

She felt the tears well up again. Not only would Viper lose his job, but he'd have her death on his hands, as well. She did cry after that. The tears spilled forth and she couldn't stop them.

Izzy curled up on the low bunk and hugged her knees, wishing she were anywhere but here.

CHAPTER 17

The sea was rougher than around San Diego. Out here in the Pacific, off the coast of Baja California, it got pretty wild. Huge, angry gray swells pummeled the coastline, and the rigid inflatable boat powered by a hundred horsepower engine soared over the peaks and troughs like a rollercoaster.

The motion would have sent them flying if they hadn't been used to it. Both men had their hands firmly wrapped around the guard rope, their grips unwavering. Their feet were anchored on the deck with the precision of seasoned navy men. As they leaned forward into the wind, their bodies moved instinctively, absorbing the bucketing and pounding with bent knees, honed from years of experience. The spray from the waves hit their faces, but their steely gazes remained fixed on the horizon, undeterred by the storm's fury.

Most of his offshore training had taken place in the Atlantic, but he was well used to these conditions, although Viper had to admit, it had been a while since he'd attempted a boarding operation. His last few missions had been in the Middle East, not on the ocean.

"How much longer?" he yelled at Phoenix, who was driving.

"ETA twelve minutes."

That's if Pacific Pride was where she was supposed to be. Their last update from Ray had put her at the same coordinates as before, so it looked like she'd put down anchor. They could only hope.

"Looks like that storm's coming in," Phoenix shouted above the wind and the roar of the engine. "Could make things tricky."

"Weather app said we had another five hours before landfall." Viper had checked before they'd left. They'd been trained to leave nothing to chance.

Still, they'd done these ship-boarding exercises a hundred times in all conditions. Tricky did not mean impossible.

"There she is," shouted Viper, who'd been spotting with a pair of high-powered binoculars. The CIA guys had been generous, even lending them a high-powered inflatable that was due to be transferred to Panama for use on the canal.

"Bring it back in one piece," the CIA Captain had said.

"We'll try," Viper had replied, although they both knew the likelihood of that happening was next to impossible.

They decreased speed and snuck up to the trawler. The black hull loomed above them, over a storey high. Phoenix kept the inflatable from bashing against the side of the trawler, but it was hard work and required constant adjustment on the tiller.

Viper attached the caving ladder to the telescopic pole. They were on the leeward side of the ship, tucked in beneath the hull and out of sight of anyone on deck.

"Easy," warned Phoenix.

Viper grimaced with determination. With a practiced motion, he hooked the ladder over the guardrail. "Got it!" He collapsed the telescopic pole and set it back in the RIB, then put a gloved hand on the ladder. "See you soon."

"I'll be here," Phoenix confirmed.

Under normal circumstances there'd be at least four armed SEALs climbing onboard the ship and one manning the inflatable. They'd also have air support. Viper would have liked Phoenix to come aboard as backup, but he had to stay put.

"See you in a bit."

Rung by rung, he climbed up the ladder, keeping a steady motion and trying not to graze his hands on the hull when it listed. At the top, he glanced back down but couldn't see Phoenix thanks to his dark, camouflaged clothing.

Combat knife in hand, he stuck to the shadows as he slunk along the gangway, his back against the superstructure. Voices came from inside, men laughing and talking. He peered through a dirty, water-lashed window and counted five tangos. How many more were there?

He found the low door leading down to the interior of the trawler and descended, one careful step at a time, his knife in his hand. His handgun wasn't fitted with a suppressor, so if he encountered any opposition, he'd have no choice but to go loud.

That would bring the others running, and then it was over.

The trawler wasn't very big, only one room off the main cabin, and it was bolted from the outside.

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