65
Sergeant Hanson slid carefully into the inky-black waters of the Indian Ocean, aware that even the smallest splash could alert the pirates. The St. Tropez bobbed lazily five hundred yards away, lit up like a Christmas tree. Apparently the enemy was relaxed and unsuspecting, just as he’d been told in the final briefing.
The jump had gone as planned without any major hiccups. He now took one last bearing on the target before disappearing into the warm waters. They approached the vessel in a V-formation at a depth of forty feet with Sergeant Hanson in the lead. He followed the directional arrow of the device strapped to his left wrist, occasionally glimpsing the dark shadows of his teammates on either side of him.
Once they were directly beneath the hull of the vessel he gave directions
