Quantum

60

Dawson pored over the collection of maps and satellite photos that were strewn across the chart table of the Sharon S. Notations made in water-based marker indicated the positions of his men near the remote hunting cabin.

Angel had reported ‘feet dry’ twenty minutes earlier, transitioning from the water phase of the mission to land. Their stealthy approach from the bay up the Rifle River had apparently gone undetected by the Tangos.

Once they’d reached the shore, the SEALs had disconnected their masks from the Draeger rebreathers. A rotary valve closed off the dual hoses, preventing any contamination of the rebreather’s CO₂ scrubber. Angel approached the cabin in water that varied from knee to waist deep. From their last report, Angel was in position along the levee east of the cabin.

Dawson’s satellite phone, which lay near the corner of the chart table, emitted a soft, pulsating sound.

‘Dawson,’ he answered.

‘Admiral, it’s Grin. Nolan is on-line.’

‘Good. Everything going okay?’

‘Yeah, the connection is clean, and we’ve got access to all the goodies. Does it look like they’re going to release Kelsey and Elli?’

‘No,’ Dawson replied with near absolute certainty.

Grin said nothing for a moment, finding himself at a loss for words. ‘Good luck, Admiral.’

‘Thanks,’ Dawson replied sympathetically before ending the call.

Dawson gazed down at the charts. The cabin was situated near the shore of the bay on an elevated patch of ground surrounded by an earthen levee. Water from the river flooded the surrounding area, creating lightly wooded wetlands ideal for hunting migrating ducks and geese.

God, the two-man sniper team, had worked their way on foot to the cabin from the adjacent Ogemaw State Forest. A knoll, approximately two thousand yards from the cabin across a wide expanse of cattails and marsh grass, provided the snipers with an unobstructed view of the northern and western sides of the rustic, one-story building.

‘Heaven to God,’ Dawson called out.

‘This is God. I read you, Heaven.’

‘Say status of Halos.’

‘Halos are unchanged. Repeat, Halos are unchanged.’

From God’s vantage point on the knoll, the snipers had a clear view of Kelsey and Elli. Both women were in the northwestern corner bedroom, and should any move be made against them, God was in a position to put an immediate stop to it. The ‘unchanged’ status of the hostages meant that no move had been made to harm or release the women. Enough time had passed, in Dawson’s opinion, to determine that the hostages were not going to be released.

‘Say status of Tangos, God.’

‘Count is five — three plus two,’ the sniper answered, identifying a total of five men; three inside with the hostages, and two outside on patrol.

‘I read you, God,’ Dawson replied. ‘Heaven to Angel.’

‘Angel here,’ Edwards answered. ‘I read you, Heaven.’

‘Halos are unchanged. Confirmed Tango count is five. Tangos are three and two. You have a green light, Angel.’

‘Green light acknowledged, Heaven. Angel out.’

Dawson looked up from the charts and out the bridge windscreen. Through the thick, moisture-laden air, the shore was a distant green-brown haze. Somewhere in that haze, his men were moving.