"My pilot is in there," Sean pointed at the building. "We can call for help inside."
She kept close as Sean navigated the hardpacked sand covering the two hundred yards to the shack. He knocked on the door three times before pushing it open. "Dothan?"
"In here," the familiar voice answered.
Off to the right, the sound of a boat's engine groaned loudly. Sean looked around the edge of the doorway as Irena stepped inside. It was a Mark V, one of the primary transportation vessels used by the Navy SEALs. The boat cut through the waves like a knife, its low profile, stealth, and angular design allowed it to move faster than similarly sized ships, even in choppy seas.
Sean ducked inside and watched from the shadows as the Mark V zipped through the waves and out to sea, headed toward the three islands a few miles away.
"Close the door," Dothan said in an irritated tone. "You're letting out all the heat."
Sean made sure the Navy ship didn't circle back around to their location before closing the door tight. The shack was minimally outfitted. A small table and two old wooden chairs were packed into the far corner opposite of a tiny kitchenette. The stove was only half the size of a typical kitchen stove, and the cabinets only had three compartments hidden behind bland, unfitted wooden doors. An ancient sofa with torn upholstery sat in front of a black iron wood stove, the source of the smoke they'd seen earlier. A door at the back of room revealed a toilet and sink. The place smelled of onions and herbs.
"Who's this?" Dothan asked, pointing at Irena, who stood with her arms crossed, rubbing her extremities to get warmed up.
She found her way over to the stove and put her hands out to warm them.
"This is Irena Stoepel. She's who I came here to find."
Dothan sipped on a bowl of broth and noodles with a spoon that was way too big for the task. He swallowed a mouthful and wiped his lips with his sleeve. "You look like hell. What happened to you?"
"I was followed. The other person I came here to see was killed. Irena and I barely escaped from her house before they set it on fire."
The old pilot set the bowl down, a look of concern crossing his face. "How'd you manage that? And who followed you?"
"Americans. Navy SEALs to be more precise. A man named McClain, an admiral in the Navy, is leading them. Apparently, he's switched over to the dark side."
Irena cut in. "We escaped through an underground passage attached to a nearby cave. That's how we ended up here."
Dothan took in the information, disbelief written all over his face. He stood up and walked over to the front corner of the house where he had a basket filled with blankets, an old coat, and a couple of toboggan-style hats. He snatched up one of the blankets and wrapped it around Irena's shoulders. "Here. This will help you warm up faster. Would you like a bowl of soup?"
She smiled at him but politely declined.
He returned his attention to Sean. "You're lucky to be alive. Navy SEALs are no joke. They're the best of the best."
"So I've heard."
"If what you're saying is true, and some of them have gone rogue, it'll be hard for anyone to stop them, whatever it is they're doing."
"Dothan," Sean interrupted the kind moment, "I need you to take me out to some islands a few miles to the east. There are three fairly close together. Do you know which ones I'm talking about?"
"Yeah. There's nothing out there, though. Just a bunch of rocky patches of land. Planning on doing some sightseeing?"
"Not really. It's time to put an end to this. I don't suppose you know where I could get some scuba gear and ammunition."
Dothan's right eyebrow rose as the corner of his mouth stretched to a grin. "Scuba gear? There's a place in town that sells dive equipment. They should have everything you would need. You're crazy to take on a bunch of SEALs, especially in their preferred habitat. I can get you out there, but after that, I don't know if I'll be much help. If they try to take out my plane, I'll have to bug out quick."
"Yeah, I know."
The pilot nodded. He thought about the prospects for a minute, pining over the dangers. "All right. Yeah, why not? And I've got some bullets here in the shed." He walked over to a wooden box in the back near the bathroom and lifted the lid. Inside were several cardboard boxes full of shells. "Forty-caliber hollow points okay?"
"That’s my favorite flavor."
19
The alarm on Sean's phone started beeping, barely audible above the moan of the seaplane's single engine. He'd forgotten to turn it off earlier when he found out about Admiral McClain's deception. Now he knew that they were probably never going to let Dr. Ott go. The upside was that they wouldn't kill her either. McClain needed her to create whatever superweapon he wanted to pawn off to the highest black market bidder. Without her, it was unlikely he could even get the thing to work. He'd have to have her alive, which gave Sean a little hope.
On the way into town to buy the things he needed, Sean escorted Irena to one of the local hotels and helped get her set up for the night. No one would know she was there because he used one of his fake passports and government-issued money to get the room. She thanked him and asked him to be careful on his mission. She wasn't the only one who was concerned. Dothan had a bad feeling about going up against a band of SEALs. He'd voiced his concerns with Sean, but there was nothing else that could be done. If they waited for reinforcements, it would be too late.
Dothan was right. Going into a den full of corrupt SEALs and their leader was suicidal, but he had to try. It was why he'd rejoined Axis. Better him than someone else. Sean had the skill set to get things done that other people couldn't. At least that's what he kept telling himself as Dothan guided the plane low over the whitecaps of the ocean.
Sean stepped into the back of the plane to recheck the equipment he'd purchased in town. Regulators, masks, dive suit, fins, and a Sea-Doo RS2 underwater scooter. The latter would help him move faster underwater, and speed was of the essence now. After purchasing the scuba gear and a few other necessities, Sean returned to the shack on the coast and started to make preparations. He spent the next few hours examining maps of the island, recalling the exact place the painting had highlighted, and pinpointing it on a topographical map Dothan had provided.
They'd decided going in after sunset would be best. Once dark settled in, any personnel McClain had left behind on the shore or on the Mark V would have a more difficult time spotting their approach. The seaplane was anything but quiet, so Sean had decided that a quick drop-off would be best.
Dothan would fly out toward the islands and feign engine problems, which would require him to land. He would keep his distance from the Mark V to make sure Sean's movements weren't spotted then take off again.
It wasn't the best plan, but it would have to do.
"Coming up on the islands now," Dothan said into the headset. Sean nodded, acknowledging the information. "Last chance to change your mind about this," the pilot added.
"No choice," Sean replied. "If I don't at least slow them down, they'll get away, and we may never find them again."
"All right then. Hold on. I'll give you enough time to hop out, and then I'll be gone. Keep this flare with you." He handed Sean the red flare gun.
Sean put it into his small gear bag along with the two weapons and ammunition he'd procured. He'd already put on his wet suit before taking off. Now he harnessed the air tank and the other equipment so that when Dothan stopped the plane, he could be out and moving within five seconds. He rechecked the weapons one last time to make sure they were ready to fire at a moment's notice. First, he tested the slide on the .22 he'd taken from Irena's desk then looked over his Springfield.