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Austin pushed the goggles back on his head and saw one of Razov's guards standing like a deer frozen in the headlights。 The man clutched a bottle of vodka and his arm was around the shoulders of a young woman in a maid's uniform； his hand under the unbuttoned front of her dress。 Her dyed red hair hung down over her face； and her bright lipstick was smeared。 Austin realized he had provided for every eventuality except the human libido。
The man's drunken grin faded at the sight of the intruders with their painted faces and automatic weapons。 As a professional gunman he knew exactly what was expected of him： silence。 His female panion had no such restraint。 Her mouth opened wide； and she let out an ear…piercing scream。 Her lung power was opera…star level。 Her second shriek was even louder； the howl easily drowning Austin's curses。 She finally ran out of breath； her eyes rolled up and she crumpled to the deck in a faint。
As the echoes faded； the ship lit up like a pinball machine。 Doors flew open at every level； and yells seemed to e from all directions。 There was the sound of running feet and rough voices shouting orders； with a few more high…pitched screams thrown in for variety。 Those were only the preliminaries。 A second later； all hell broke loose。
…35…
THE SIKORSKY HH 60…H Seahawk helicopters raced side by side over the ocean like twin Valkyries； skimming so low their landing gear was splashed with spume from the cresting wave tops。 The aircraft were painted in low…visibility gray； their insignia and markings toned down and almost invisible。
As he stared out the window of the right…hand helicopter； the platoon mander； Navy Lieutenant Zack Mason； reflected on the urgent phone call from Washington and the orders to scramble a special warfare task unit for a secret mission。
With his classic profile and soft…spoken manner； Mason could have passed for an investment banker。 Under the patrician looks was a tough and petent warrior who had not simply survived the rugged SEAL training； but thrived on it。 Still only in his thirties； Mason had been involved in missions that ranged from an aborted plan to shoot down Saddam Hussein's helicopter to security at the Olympics in Atlanta。
Officially； he was the leader of a SEAL group on the East Coast。 Unofficially； he was liaison to the Joint Special Operations mand； an amalgam of SEALs； Delta Force and the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment known as SOAR。 The shadow force maintained its own helicopter support。 The assault teams specialized in attacking at…sea targets such as shipping or oil rigs。 The joint mand was authorized to conduct preemptive strikes against terrorists and terrorism。
The orders for the mission had bypassed the normal links in the chain of mand。 This job had been directly authorized by the secretary of the navy； who had handed the problem off to the admiral in mand of the Naval Special Warfare mand in Coronado； California。 The admiral had been told to avoid the usual red tape； and have the operations decisions made at the lowest possible level。 Mason would report directly to Coronado from the field。
After Sandecker talked to him； Sid Sparkman had gone to the president and told him the truth about his connection to Ataman。 He'd admitted to being seduced by the chance to make billions of dollars； but he'd said he had no inkling of Razov's plans against the United States。 He'd handed in his written resignation； to be announced at the pleasure of the president。 And he had offered himself up as a sacrificial lamb。 If the operation blew up in their faces； Sparkman would take responsibility for the rogue action to contain the damage。 Ever the pragmatist； the president pocketed the resignation； accepted Sparkman's offer and told him to call the naval secretary。
Based in Little Creek； Virginia； Mason's SEAL team was chosen because it had been trained in boarding a ship at sea。 The mission goal was simple： Swarm aboard the ship without warning and deactivate a bomb。 Mason knew that reaching that goal would be the hard part。
〃ing up on target；〃 the pilot said； with a lazy drawl； interrupting Mason's meditations。 〃T minus ten minutes。〃
Despite his calm demeanor； Mason couldn't avoid the adrenaline rush and excitement of a SEAL mission。 He was what was known as an 〃operator；〃 one who had joined the navy for action。 He glanced at his Chase…Durer Swiss watch； turned and gave the men behind him a ten…fingered signal like a basketball player making a two…handed free throw。
Dressed in black uniforms； their exposed faces streaked with war paint； the SEALs were barely visible in the cabin's dim light。 As an elite force； SEALs were given leeway in dress and weapon。 Some wore 〃drive…on rags；〃 Rambo…style around their heads； others the more traditional floppy hats with the brim turned up at front。
There was a rustle as the SEALs patted the pouches of their assault vests and laid reassuring hands on their automatic weapons。 Most in the team carried Colt automatic rifles； the shortened version of the M…16 that fired rounds with no cartridges； allowing them to carry more ammunition。 One man； who was built like a bull； carried the M…60 E3； a light machine gun that normally requires two men to operate。 Another was armed with a 12…gauge shotgun whose slugs could penetrate metal。 In addition to his own rifle； the explosives expert carried a rucksack that contained C…4 plastic charges and fuses。
Mason manded the sixteen…man platoon that would board the starboard side。 His executive officer； 〃2IC；〃 for second in mand； headed the group that would secure the port deck。 No matter how heavily armed they were； thirty…two men posed a small attack force for a target as huge as the Ataman Explorer。 The last thing the SEALs wanted to do was get into a firefight with a vastly superior force。 Their main weapon would be surprise； their allies would be confusion and shock。
〃m check；〃 Mason said。 Like the men in his platoon； he carried a Motorola MX300 radio with throat mike and earpiece。 The men answered in order of their seating。 Mason counted the answers。 Sixteen。 Everyone was connected。 His 2IC called in from the other helicopter。 He and his men were ready。
Mason slipped a cell phone out of his assault vest and punched out a number。 The phone used a special encryption algorithm that connected Mason directly to the other assault teams。
As Mason's unit headed due east of Boston at the chopper's maximum speed of one hundred forty…five miles per hour； the other squadrons were on similar missions to the south。 The Delta Force was in the group off of Charleston； South Carolina； and an air force special operations regiment was in the southernmost track east of Miami。 On this mission； the navy would be in charge。 Which meant Mason was calling the shots。 If he got taken out of action； the Delta leader would take charge； then the SOAR officer。
〃This is Omega One；〃 he said。 〃e in； Omega Two。〃
〃Omega Two； and how are you？〃
Mason smiled at the bad rhyme。 On joint training exercises； he had e to know and respect the Delta Force leader； a wisecracking African…American named Joe Louis； after the great champion boxer。
〃We're right on schedule； Joe。 T minus ten。〃
〃Roger。 Hey； Zack； couldn't the navy brass e up with something more imaginative than Omega。 Maybe something like the Three Bears？〃
〃Doubt if the admiral would like being called Goldilocks。 Besides； it was the air force's turn to name this mission。〃
〃Figures。 Fly boys。 T minus eight。〃
〃Call when you make visual contact。〃
〃When we do； I will call you。 Over and out。〃
Mason punched another button and got Will Carmichael； leader of Omega Three。 In contrast to Louis； Carmichael went by the book。 Even his spontaneous ments seemed to be programmed。 He reported that his team was right on schedule； then added； 〃Pieceacake。〃
Mason knew from hard experience that dropping out of the sky onto a huge and possibly heavily armed moving ship in open ocean and disarming an unknown explosive was not exactly a piece of cake。 They had rehearsed boarding vessels at sea dozens of times； but this was the real McCoy。 The m