Chapter 18 - Iron Deck Infiltration
The tropical squall hit the Caspian Glory like a wall of black water.
Thirty feet above the towering stacks of shipping containers, the stealth-modified Black Hawk hovered in total blackout mode, its twin engines muffled by the roar of thirty-knot winds and pouring rain.
“Green light! Go, go, go!” Avery’s command sounded crisp through the tactical bone-conduction headsets.
Thick fast-ropes dropped from the cabin doors. Avery slid down first, her gloved hands controlling her descent with practiced fluidity. Her boots hit the slick corrugated steel of the highest shipping container with barely a whisper, followed immediately by her seven cadre operators—including Staff Sergeant Tyler Cole, who moved behind her with the disciplined obedience of an operator who had found his true leader.
The deck of the container ship was an industrial labyrinth of steel canyons, whipping rain, and blind corners. Through her night-vision goggles, the world was painted in phosphorescent green and phosphor-white heat signatures.
Avery held up a closed fist, dropping behind the edge of container stack Bravo.
Down on the catwalk, two armed sentries in dark tactical gear were patrolling the corridor leading to the bridge superstructure. Both carried Belgian carbines equipped with suppressors, their movements disciplined and synchronized.
Avery signaled Cole: Two targets. Silent elimination.
Cole nodded, his eyes fierce with focus.
Dropping from the eight-foot container ledge onto the companionway behind the sentries, Avery and Cole moved in perfect unison. Avery closed the distance on the lead guard, hooking his chin backward while driving the heel of her combat blade cleanly through the gap in his body armor, severing the carotid artery before he could draw a breath.
To her right, Cole wrapped his massive forearm around the second sentry’s throat, twisting with brutal leverage that snapped the cervical vertebrae with a muffled pop.
Both bodies were lowered silently to the wet non-skid deck and dragged behind the container doors within seven seconds.
“Catwalk clear,” Avery whispered into the comms. “Team Two, secure the bridge controls and override the internal door locks. Team One, on me to the cargo hold. Move.”
They sliced through the ship’s interior passageways like scalpels. Avery led from the point, checking thresholds, clearing blind corners, and eliminating two more sentries at the threshold of the lower engine deck with rapid, suppressed shots that left the corridors echoing with only the hum of the auxiliary generators.
They reached the heavy watertight hatch leading to Cargo Hold 3.
The digital keypad beside the steel door was sparking; the mercenary demolition specialists had already attached thermite cutting charges to the hydraulic locking bolts.
Through the viewing port, Avery could see three men inside the dimly lit cargo bay. One was operating a heavy hydraulic hoist attached to a lead-lined container, while two others were setting secondary detonators along the bulkhead.
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There was no time for a coordinated breach. The thermite was ten seconds from melting the primary containment seal.
Avery pulled a specialized flash-bang grenade from her assault vest, looked at Cole, and tapped her fingers against the hatch release: Three, two, one.
