Tier Zero by Henry Brown

Author:Henry Brown
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: martial arts, native american, action adventure, executioner, black ops, mens fiction, paramilitary adventure, mack bolan, henry brown, men of action, men at war
Publisher: Henry Brown

27

INDIAN OCEAN

The Tinseltown rocked gently on the waves, at anchor amidst a tiny archipelago where the water was just deep enough at low tide to float a vessel of her size. Marius had dropped anchor early that morning, after finally getting under clear sky.

The outward edges of the storm radius now safely behind them, Rocco Cavarra watched the typhoon pass them by on the radar. Medan had been right in the outer edges of the surrounding storm, but it had just shifted direction. Now the worst of the storm was going to tear right through the city. There was another, much smaller object in motion painted by the radar, too. Perhaps a flock of seagulls. It should be winging into sight within a few minutes, given its trajectory.

The sound of female laughter startled him, and he looked up from the screen. Both Ingrid and Candy were out sunning on the deck. He stood, stretched and left the bridge to wander over. He hadn’t heard any laughter for a while and it was good to hear, especially from Candy.

They glanced up at him as he approached. “Hello, Mr. Cavarra,” Candy greeted.

He gave them a smile. “You two look like you’re on vacation.”

“We were wondering if you might take us to one of those islands,” Ingrid said. “I see banana trees, and we might be able to find coconuts and mangoes, too.”

“That does sound good,” he replied, sitting on the hawser. “Maybe after the skipper wakes up.”

“So is ‘Rocco’ your real name?” Candy asked.

Rocco chuckled. “My real name is Dwight. But I guess people prefer to call me by a real Dago-sounding name.”

“What part of Italy are you from?” Ingrid asked.

“I’m from California,” Rocco said. “But my parents were from Sicily.”

“Cool,” Candy said. “Can you speak Italian?”

“Yeah. Once upon a time I spoke it better than I spoke English. I sounded just like Chico Marx.”

“Who?” Ingrid and Candy asked, in unison.

Rocco never answered, suddenly aware of an engine noise wafting through the wind. He rose to his feet, listened for a moment until he was sure he heard right, then strode back to the bridge where he retrieved the binoculars stashed in the captain’s console. He climbed atop the forecastle and panned the horizon in the direction of the sound. The girls remained in positions of repose on deck, but watched him, chatting quietly with a sober disposition.

“What is it?” Ingrid called.

“Don’t know, yet,” he called back. He hoped it wasn’t a naval patrol from any of the countries in the region. Hopefully it was just some storm chaser out following the typhoon at a safe distance. It sure wasn’t a flock of seagulls.

For a time the noise faded, and Rocco began to relax. Then it grew in volume again. It grew in volume to the point he knew the source would be in visual range any time now.

And then it was.

It first appeared as one low, long shape on the sea. As it grew closer, the shape separated into four smaller silhouettes.

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