Chapter 15 - INTO THE BLACK WATER
Fifteen minutes later, Alexis knelt on the deck of a customized, low-profile rigid-inflatable boat idling three hundred yards south of Terminal 4. The craft’s twin outboards were fitted with acoustic baffles, murmuring no louder than a purring cat beneath the waterline.
Nathan Cross stood over her, securing the secondary seals on her closed-circuit rebreather. The gear was top-tier special warfare equipment: the Draeger LAR V unit, which recycled exhaled oxygen and emitted zero surface bubbles to give away her position.
"Water temperature is fifty-one degrees," Cross said, handing her a pair of matte-black dive fins. "The harbor current is running north at two knots. It’ll carry you right into the vessel’s sea chest beneath the stern if you drop in here."
Alexis pulled the snug neoprene hood over her head, tucking away stray strands of dark hair. She checked the seal of her tactical dive mask, then reached for the waterproof holster strapped to her right thigh. Inside was the suppressed SIG P226, fitted with specialized maritime firing pin seals that allowed it to discharge immediately upon breaking the water’s surface.
"Rules of engagement?" Alexis asked, biting down lightly on the mouthpiece to test the oxygen flow.
"We don't have authority for a full-scale kinetic assault until you confirm the package contains high-yield radiological material," Cross said grimly. "Self-defense only. If you get compromised before you plant the beacon, get out. Don't play the hero."
Alexis offered a thin, humorless smile beneath her mask. "I stopped playing the hero ten years ago, Nathan. I'm just cleaning up the mess."
She adjusted the digital timer on her wrist gauge, locked her dive compass to a heading of 015 degrees north, and rolled backward over the inflatable tube into the freezing, oil-black harbor water.
The cold hit her like a physical blow, shocking her nervous system, but her combat training asserted control immediately. Her breathing slowed to a rhythmic, steady pattern. The world above dissolved into a murky ceiling of green-black gloom, while beneath her, the dark depths of the channel stretched out like an abyss.
Alexis kicked smoothly, maintaining a depth of twelve feet beneath the surface to clear the draft of passing commercial vessels. The compass glowed faint red on her wrist, keeping her locked on course toward the towering iron hull of the *Caspian Glory*.
As she closed the distance, the underwater acoustic landscape changed. The low, thumping vibrations of the ship’s auxiliary generators vibrated directly through her teeth and bones. Steel hulls acted as massive acoustic amplifiers in the water; every footstep of the armed guards on the deck above traveled down through the plating into the sea.
Alexis reached the ship’s keel. She placed one gloved hand against the barnacle-encrusted steel, feeling the slight vibration of machinery within. Moving methodically along the starboard bilge keel, she surfaced near the rudder post, where the vessel’s massive propeller hung dormant in the water.
She cleared the surface by two inches, raising her dive mask just enough to peer into the shadow between the ship’s stern and the concrete wharf.
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Two armed sentries were posted on the catwalk directly above her, pacing back and forth with assault rifles slung low across their chests. They were not wearing civilian dock uniforms; they wore Russian-pattern digital camouflage trousers and tactical vests.
Alexis submerged again. She swam beneath the wharf pilings, locating an emergency maintenance ladder bolted to the concrete pillar. She reached up, hooked her gloved fingers onto the rusted lower rung, and began her ascent out of the black water.
