By Dawn's Early Light by David Hagberg

Author:David Hagberg
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2003-08-29T04:00:00+00:00

The Seawolf hovered at fifteen meters. The bridge deck atop her sail was only a couple of meters beneath the deepest wave troughs.

Terri on lead followed the aft edge of the sail down to the broad deck that materialized dimly like a ghost ship, then back to the open hatch into the escape trunk.

No lights showed from inside the boat in case a reflection through the water could be spotted from the surface, or from a low-flying aircraft. They were taking no chances.

Everything was by feel. Jackson entered the escape trunk feet first behind the others, and when he was in he reached up and pulled the hatch closed.

When he had it dogged, he fumbled for the flood-control valve, finding it just over Chopper’s shoulder. There was a very loud hiss of high-pressure air, and a lot of serious bubbles came from the bottom of the chamber as the water began to drop.

As soon as it was chest level they spit out their mouthpieces and breathed the relatively fresh air. A second later a dim red light came on.

“I’m glad that’s over with,” MacKeever said. Despite their training, some SEALs were claustrophobic locking into and out of submarines. MacKeever was one of them. His therapy was griping. He’d never froze on a mission. Not once. He just bitched a lot.

“You’d think they’d find an easier way,” he groused.

“You shoulda joined the army,” Ercoli said. “I heard those guys even get breakfast in bed.”

The hatch beneath their feet was undogged from below, and was pushed up. An officer with carrot-red hair, whose name tag read BATEMAN, grinned up at them. “Welcome aboard the Seawolf, gentlemen.”

Terri pulled off her hood, and gave him a big smile.

“And lady,” Bateman amended without missing a beat.

One by one they climbed down into the stores room just aft of the mess room, where they took off their packs and dive equipment. They were handed towels and then followed Bateman forward a couple of compartments to the officers’ wardroom.

Frank Dillon was waiting with Jablonski and Alvarez, whom he introduced. None of them showed the least surprise when they realized that one of the SEALs was a woman, and a good-looking woman at that. Except Alvarez, who grinned.

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” he said.

“Thanks for the lift, skipper,” Jackson said. “Would have been a long swim home if you hadn’t been here.”

“Happy to oblige, Lieutenant,” Dillon said. “But now that you’re aboard we’d like to know where we’re headed.”

“You were told nothing, sir?”

“Just the time and place to rendezvous with the Vinson and pick up you and your team.”

“We’re going to Pakistan,” Jackson said. He took out a sketch map and unfolded it on the table. “An ISI prison and interrogation center outside Kandrach. Four CIA guys are being held there and we’re going to bring them home before it’s too late.”

“Too late for what?” Dillon asked.

“One of them is Scott Hanson, the president’s brother.”

Dillon exchanged a look with his officers. “I wonder whose bright idea it was

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