of the US designed PVS-7, and scanned the horizon.
He was on the look out for pirates, Somali criminals intent on seizing the ship and her cargo. Already the 'Tian Hai' security detail had fought off two attempts to board the freighter. The pirates hadn't fared well, but the sharks had.
The guard almost wished for pirates as he mechanically scanned his zone of responsibility. The ambient light from the new moon struggled to penetrate the low cloud base and through his goggles he could barely see past the end of the ship, over 200 meters to his front. He lifted the goggles and reached for the packet of cigarettes tucked into a pouch on his assault rig.
"The cigarette will give away your position. Do not smoke again!" a voice spoke in Mandarin.
The contractor snapped his head around to see Yang step out of the shadows and into the faint glow cast by the ship's navigation lights. He was a slim figure dressed in black combat fatigues and baseball cap. His only weapon was a sidearm on his hip.
"Yes, sir." The guard's hands flashed back to the QBZ-97 assault rifle slung across his chest.
"Have you checked your sectors?"
"Yes, they are all clear."
"Are they?" Yang nodded into the darkness.
The guard flipped his goggles down and scanned the horizon. At the very edge of the sensor's range he could just make out the faint glow of a fishing boat. The vessel was heading away from them. He flipped the goggles up and turned back to Yang.
"Sir, how...?"
The man had disappeared back into the shadows.
***
Ten nautical miles ahead of the 'Tian Hai' an unusual looking aircraft hovered above the ocean. In the darkness it resembled a giant dragonfly, loitering on the surface of a pond as it searched for prey.
The AW609 was a civilian version of the US armed forces V-22 Osprey. Like its military cousin, it relied on a pair of giant propellers for conventional flight that when swiveled skyward allowed it to hover like a helicopter. The tilt-rotor had the speed and range of a fixed-wing aircraft, yet unlike a seaplane it could support water operations in the heaviest of seas.
The grey tilt-rotor hovered a few meters above the swell, the downward wash of the twin blades whipping the surface into a frenzy of spray and froth. It rotated slowly until its nose faced into the wind. The door on the left side slid open revealing a faint green glow from the cabin.
A black clad figure appeared, quickly scanned the surface and pushed a large bundle out into the ocean below. A number of smaller bundles followed before the man dropped from the aircraft and disappeared into the water. He was followed by a second man who splashed into the ocean beside him.
With a roar the tilt-rotor climbed away into the dark sky, leaving the two men alone in the Indian Ocean, nearly 100 nautical miles from shore.
"Beautiful night for a swim, mate," the first man said cheerfully as he treaded water, holding onto the side of the large bundle he had pushed from the aircraft.
"It is nice, Bish, but I think I'd prefer a boat ride," Mirza replied from the other side of the bundle.
"Probably need a boat then. Get clear, I'll inflate."
"Roger." The former Indian Special Forces soldier pushed off the bundle and bobbed in the black water.
Bishop tore open a velcro panel on the side of the package. With one hand bracing against the rubber he pulled hard on a plastic handle. There was a pop and a hiss as it split open and unfolded slowly. The hissing continued until it took the form of a small inflatable boat.
Both men climbed into the compact rubber craft, dragging the various dry bags in behind them. They worked quickly, preparing their personal equipment. The pair pulled on body armor over their wet suits and donned lightweight helmets. Everything was black, from their gloves and ropes to the suppressed MP7 submachine guns that hung from slings attached to their armor. Mission success was dependant on stealth.
"Rubber Ducky, this is Dragonfly," the pilot of the tilt-rotor checked in, his English accent broadcasting through the men's earpieces.
"Ducky here, go ahead."
"How's the water, chaps?"
"Surprisingly cool for this time of year."
"Told you to go the five mil over the three mil. Rookie error, boys."
Bishop laughed. Their pilot was also the PRIMAL team's equipment specialist and resident technician. He had helped them set up for the mission and had recommended thicker wetsuits.