Chapter 45 - The Storm Over the North Sea
The North Sea was living up to its reputation. Massive, grey-black swells slammed against the hull of our fast-insertion inflatable craft as we skimmed across the freezing, turbulent water beneath a pitch-black, starless sky.
The Sovereign Dawn loomed out of the mist like a floating monolith of steel and shadow, its towering cargo walls rising sixty feet above the churning waves.
Ethan piloted the rigid-hull inflatable boat with expert precision, nosing the rubber bow directly beneath the ship’s massive stern loading bay while a freezing rain pelted our tactical gear.
“Grappling hook set!” Ethan shouted over the deafening roar of the wind and crashing waves.
I fired the pneumatic launcher, sending a heavy steel grappling hook straight up toward the open maintenance gantry on Deck Two. The cable caught with a sharp metallic clank, locking securely into place.
“Going up,” I muttered, grabbing the tactical ascender and pulling myself rapidly up the sixty-foot line against the howling wind.
Within seconds, I crested the lip of the loading gantry, pulling myself over the edge and rolling silently onto the wet steel floor of the cargo bay. I drew my Sig Sauer, crouching low behind a stack of empty shipping containers as Ethan scrambled up the line right behind me.
The interior of the ship smelled of hot hydraulic oil, ozone, and salt spray. Red emergency navigation lights cast long, eerie shadows across the vast, echoing cargo deck.
“According to Marcus’s tracker,” Ethan whispered, checking his wrist-mounted tactical display, “he’s three decks up, past the primary server room in Sector C.”
“Let’s move,” I said, leading the way toward the internal stairwell hatch.
We slipped through the heavy steel door into the ship’s interior corridors, moving with disciplined, silent synchronization. The halls were dead quiet, save for the low, rhythmic thrumming of the massive diesel engines driving the vessel through the storm.
As we approached the reinforced double doors leading into Sector C, two private contractors in full tactical gear stepped out from a cross-corridor, weapons raised.
They didn't even have time to shout a warning. Ethan and I moved in unison—two suppressed shots cracked through the hallway, and the guards dropped instantly without a sound.
May you like
“Clear,” Ethan whispered, stepping over the fallen operatives to punch the electronic override code for the Sector C bulkhead.
The heavy doors hissed open, revealing the nerve center of the Sovereign Dawn.
