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“Nothing in the last hour.”
“Bloody hell,” I muttered, racing inside with Ares on my heels.
“Something is off,” I repeated to Z and Nem, who were on their way outside. “It’s a trap. Worse, I fear four of our agents may be compromised to the point of being in danger.”
“I’ll gather the rest of the team,” said Ares.
“I’ll assist,” Nem offered.
“Ares, please see what your guys at the NRO might have.”
“Tough in this part of the world, but I’ll give it a shot.”
“What are you thinking?” Z asked.
“Why would O demand we come to her? It’s illogical. Additionally, I pinged Poseidon, Zep, and Magnet and haven’t received a response.”
Ares was the first to return. Tank, Blackjack, and Atticus were with him. Within moments, Nem, Puck, and Kodiak joined us.
Thinking we’d have the Maltese, Swiss, and Albanian teams already on the ground here in Egypt, we were going into this op at a disadvantage, particularly without the help of the NRO.
“We have the coordinates of Oleander’s yacht, which means, if our teammates have been compromised, someone else is luring us out into the strait.”
“I agree with Cayman,” said Nem. “This feels like a trap.”
“What do you propose?” Z asked, looking from her to me.
“We have two certified in pararescue, yes?” I asked Ares. Among a myriad of other requirements, pararescue included special-warfare combat-diving training.
“Three. Tank, Blackjack, and myself.”
“Excellent. We’ll need four sets of gear as soon as we can get our hands on them.”
“I’ll take care of it,” offered Puck.
“I’m with you,” said Atticus.
“We’ll also need a dive boat,” I said before they walked out.
“Roger that,” Puck responded.
“You’re sure about going out with us on this?” Ares asked.
“I’m certified at the twelfth level of diving,” I responded. “Plus, I’m the only explosives expert we’ve got.”
“I’ll go out with you,” offered Kodiak. “I’m not at your level, but I do have explosives training.”
“I’ll instruct Puck to get another set of gear.”
“Here’s how it’s going to work,” I began, pulling up a schematic of the twenty-seven-meter superyacht we’d boarded less than a month ago at the same coordinates. It was moored approximately one and a half kilometers off the coast of Sharm el-Sheikh. “We’ll hire a dive boat to transport us within a reasonable distance from the mooring.”
Next, I brought up a bathymetric map of the strait. “As you can see, it drops off quite quickly once we’re a quarter of a kilometer from shore. Given the draft of O’s Azimut Grande is approximately two meters, with an LOA—length overall—of closer to twenty-six and a half meters, we’ll divide the vessel first into port and starboard, then stern to aft.” I added lines to the schematic. “The comms we have will work as long as we don’t go below one hundred meters.”
I turned to Ares. “Anything from your friends at the NRO?”
“Nothing as far as overheads. I am having them work on scrambling communications within a hundred miles of the coordinates for the next few hours.”
“Brilliant. We can expect astronomical twilight at just after eighteen hundred hours. We can safely deploy anytime after that.”
