This one long and deep, lasting minutes before she finally broke away, breathless and flushed.
“I love you, Vince. Don’t do anything stupid,” she admonished, while continuing to pepper his chin with light kisses.
“Me?” he scoffed. “Never.”
“Famous last words,” he thought he heard her mutter.
No worries.
This operation would be a piece of cake.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Vince was frustrated.
Tex was still digging for info that the stubborn captain refused to disclose, but he’d been unable to find out anything more for the teams regarding the boat that theWater Wrestlerwas scheduled to meet.
The vessel was, for all intents and purposes, a ghost ship.
Tex hated being stymied, but he’d finally had to throw in the towel.
He’d searched months’ worth of satellite imagery, honing in specifically on the Fridays that theWater Wrestlerhad met with the unknown craft, and caught fleeting and grainy glimpses of what looked to be a seventy-foot wet fish trawler in the general vicinity. But the captain was either smart enough to employ camouflage from satellite detection during their illegal transfers, or the weather—with a thick cloud cover overhead—had naturally blocked visuals. Either way, any identifying infrastructure had been indiscernible. And the boat in question was so ubiquitous amongst the many other trawlers plying their tradelegally, it was almost impossible to pinpoint it as the rogue vessel at any other time.
So, there’d been hardly any help there.
Another factor that would make Diver Downeast and SWAT’s operation today a little more difficult, was that all the boats of the size and type TexhadID’d, held large crews. Which made the upcoming encounter close to a one-on-one prospect; good guys vs. bad guys.
For those reasons, the SWAT team and Diver Downeast had needed to amend the plan they’d previously made, on the fly.
The original strategy had been for the dive team to pose as theWater Wrestler’screw, and for SWAT to be waiting below to emerge, weapons ready,afterthey’d come alongside and tied off.
That’s when they’d figured on encountering, perhaps, a half dozen crew members who wouldn’t put up much of a fight.
Now, knowing how outmanned Vince, his brothers, and Jett alone would be once they were alongside, it had been decided thatSWATwould be disguised as the crew; rigged out with weapons and tactical vests obscured by their yellow bibs; the more practiced team being first contact.
The divers would approach from a different, less volatile vector.
It was determined that they’d slip over the side of theWater Wrestlerthat was opposite to where they approached the ghost trawler, swim underwater undetected, then board the rogue vessel via the transom ladder. They’d blind-side the black-marketeers, acting as back-up for the SWAT team, since the assholes would be focused on the threat in front of them.
Trask and Jett had somehow managed to supply Vince and his other diver brothers with not only weapons, but much needed shoot-through dry bags for the confrontation. That would allow them to be fully armed and ready when they emerged from the ocean.
The specialized equipment was nothing Vince wasn’t familiar with, having used the dry bags on many of his SEAL ops, but itcertainly kicked ass that Trask and Jett had been able to procure them.
“Target spotted,” Mason barked over all their comms. “Divers get ready to slip over the side.”
The team was already geared up, and they’d previously rigged climbing nets over the starboard—the blind side of theWater Wrestler—where six of them, Vince, Trask, Jett, Spence, Buck, and Julian, would hang out. Literally.
Just before the “crew”—made up of SWAT personnel—sent out lines and bumpers between them and their meet-up, Mason would give the order for Vince’s team to slip under.
The divers would go deep and stay hidden beneath the waves, making their way to the stern of the black-market vessel, remaining hidden until Mase gave the word. They’d then board the boat via the transom ladder and lend a hand if SWAT needed it.
Everyone agreed that it might be overkill, considering SWAT’s talents, but reinforcement, especially from an unanticipated direction, would serve to confuse the larger than expected crew and make the take-down easier.
“Divers to the nets,” Mason clipped over the comms.
Two by two Vince and his team slipped over the rail and snugged themselves up against the hull, working together like they’d done this a million times.
Vince grinned. There was something to be said about operating alongside his brothers. Even though they’d been apart for years, there was a certain muscle-memory—brain and body—that they’d clearly never lost.