Meyer-Hofmann AG

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Crouched in the boat, two figures surveyed the island coastline and prepared for their landing. The cloudless night sky filled the North Atlantic bay with moonlight. A dormant ocean swell heaved upwards, its smooth back broken by the bow wave of the small craft. The sound of the outboard motor, which coughed and sputtered through the cold water, was drowned out by waves breaking over a rapidly approaching shoreline. The light ground fog had been visible from the sea, but now, even though it surrounded the men in its icy cloak, their night-vision glasses gave them a clear view of the route for their approach. Steering the boat expertly between the rocks and boulders that protected the island beach, they cut the motor and allowed the craft’s forward momentum to carry them to the shore. With only the sound of water slapping against the boat’s hull, their advance was undetected.

They jumped from the boat and hit dry land simultaneously. Grasping the small aluminium craft with one hand each, they carried it over the pebble beach and set it gently down on a grassy bank. Handguns drawn, they broke into a run and made for the big house set back from the water’s edge. Effortlessly, they vaulted the house’s tall perimeter wall and landed softly in the garden, the sound of their landing suppressed by the autumn leaves blown from the garden’s two large ash trees. The athletic prowess of the men was shown to be all the more remarkable as each carried two heavy scuba diving tanks strapped to their backs. Crouching down under the trees, they would have been as good as invisible from the house. Black face paint accentuated the whites of their eyes, and tight black clothing hugged their muscular frames as they waited, primed like two panthers preparing to attack their prey.

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