SEAL Team 13

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The rain was beating down, almost drowning out the roar of the twin outboards that pushed the small craft away from the Chinese coast. The blue waves were building on them, but the pilot of the boat kept the throttle open as his passengers scrambled about in what could easily be mistaken for sheer panic.

“What the HELL was that thing?!”

“Mother of God! I’m seeing things!”

“If you are, we are, so shut it and stay focused, sailor!” the commander growled.

Lieutenant Harold “Hawk” Masters kept his eyes fixed on the ocean ahead of him, one hand on the wheel, the other pushing the throttle as far as it would go. They crested a wave at better than fifty miles per hour, the trained responses of the team causing them to hunker down as the rubber boat left the surface of the water, becoming momentarily airborne.

Two of the men covered their primary, a Chinese national who’d been flipped by a CIA deep cover agent and now needed extraction, pushing him to the bottom of the boat just before the craft came crashing back down into the water, the whine of the motors becoming a gurgling roar as the props once more found something to bite into.

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