But one looked up as I approached, eyes narrowed in suspicion, and with his dark skin, he was clearly not Japanese.
“Carter?” I asked.
“Rusev?”
I nodded to his question, then tossed my bag onto the deck before I leaped the short distance from the dock to the boat. The man who had turned out to be Carter looked me up and down before extending his hand in a curt welcome.
“Gear’s down below,” he said, a slight southern twang to his words.
“Thanks.”
Nodding a hello to another of my teammates, I headed below, gripping the railing to help keep my balance down the short set of stairs, slippery with years of oil, fish, and mildew.
I changed into the jeans, sweater, and heavy boots, pulling the scratchy wool cap down low as Carter had, stowing the rest of my gear with the others just as I heard the engine starting up.
It was time.
I’d felt the mission creeping on me as I traveled across continents, an ocean, and even the polar ice caps. But this was the moment it started. This was when I felt the familiar tension, the buzz beneath my skin, and the adrenaline rush. Soon, it would be replaced by a calm sense of detachment, my years of training kicking in so all I saw and heard was the mission, the danger, the next movement, the path forward and through and away.
I climbed the steps back up and took a place at the bow of the boat, looking out over the dark water. Waves crested with white caps in the stiff breeze, and the scent of salt, rust, fish, and old boat mingled with the sprays that misted my face as the ship cleared the harbor and moved out into open water.
And I wondered what this mission had in store for us.
The Japanese flag flapped wildly in the breeze as the boat picked up speed, pitching into a wave and cresting out of it with a gut-wrenching lurch, only to repeat it a moment later. But we were not, obviously, a Japanese fishing vessel. Well, to the naked eye, we were. The crews of several other fishing vessels hailed us as we passed. But soon, we were alone, beyond the waters used most often for fishing—this far north, they were too close to disputed waters, and any wrong move could be seen as aggression that could start off a dangerous chain of events.
Our boat included.
This was an international operation, and we were intensely aware of what could happen should we encounter any ship from the less-than-friendly countries that lay so perilously close to Japan. I had been briefed on board my brother’s boat, then received further information to study on the plane. But this operation wasn’t clear-cut, and there were far more questions than answers. Something, or someone, was messing around in disputed territory, and tensions were on the rise.
Of course, this wasn’t common knowledge, but alarming currents were running along diplomatic channels. These currents warned of dire consequences and the explosion of long-running issues that could lead to something terrible. Something like World War III.
But the problem was, no one knew who or what or even how, and trying to stop a threat without that knowledge was nearly impossible. Both the Russians and the Japanese denied any knowledge of issues, though the accusations certainly ran unchecked between the two. And now they were drawing in allies.
My team’s mission was to find out the who, or the what, or the how—some puzzle piece, if not the entire puzzle—so we could solve the problem.
We were here to find out the truth.
“You ready, man?”
Turning my head, I found another teammate handing an energy bar to me. I took it with a small “thanks” as he leaned against the railing, his line of sight following mine.
“Always ready.” I hadn’t eaten since I’d landed in Japan, and I tore the wrapper open with my teeth before taking a large bite of the nutrition bar. It wasn’t good, but it had everything I would need to power me through the next hours.
The guy looked at me with an appraising gaze, his mouth quirked with a slight smirk. “You’re one of those, huh?”
“One of what?” I asked around a mouthful of bar.
“One of those guys who can’t turn off.”
It was a strange sentence coming from a virtual stranger. The only thing I knew about him, besides the fact that he had blonde, buzz-cut hair, blue eyes, and was slightly taller, was that he was also a Navy SEAL. I couldn’t even say I knew his name.
“Isn’t that the way we’re supposed to be?” I chewed the last bite and swallowed, wiping my mouth off on the back of my arm.
The response I got was a shrug. “Maybe. I’ve just witnessed a lot of guys like you burning out. Flaring hot and early and then burning out just as quickly.”
“I’m not going to burn out.”
My unnamed teammate was starting to get on my nerves, and I changed the subject.