Aboard USCGC Mohawk (WMEC-963)L
ieutenant Commander Priscilla Walker was pacing the bridge trying to look confident and unruffled for her first-team that had been standing watch with her ever since they reached the loiter point for the expected rendezvous with the civilian boat. She glanced at the cell phone on the chart table, willing it to ring, but it was silent. They were running at darkened ship, just drilling holes in the Caribbean about a mile outside Cuban territorial waters. She’d checked their position so many times it was becoming an irritation for the bridge watch. She decided to think about something else for a while.
“Range and bearing to the contact?”
The Navigator looked up from the radar screen. “Which one, Captain?”
“Both.”
“The Junebug is still showing pulse emissio
