0125 hours (Zulu +3)

Bridge access ladder

Freighter Yuduki Maru

With his AKM slung over his shoulder, Kurebayashi was on his way back up the ladder toward the bridge. After completing an inspecting tour of the freighter, he still felt uneasy. The atmosphere held that undefinable tension, a charge that was nearly electric in its intensity, that often presaged a storm.

The air was dry, however, and the sky clear. Perhaps, Kurebayashi told himself, it was simply his nerves.

For a long time now, he'd been questioning his own motives, and his future. What was it he wanted from the Ohtori? What did he expect to accomplish?

Martyrdom, certainly... but Kurebayashi questioned the popular idea that he and those with him would be transformed into stars if they successfully fulfilled their vow and brought low the American giant. Oblivion seemed a likelier fate, and Kurebayashi had found himself dreading that possibility. To be snuffed out, never to know whether all of his pain and sacrifice for the cause thus far had borne fruit... the very idea was repellent now, even though he and his comrades had discussed the possibility countless times before.

Or was it simply that he was afraid? The thought shamed him, burning more than the fear of oblivion as he turned the corner on the landing just below the bridge access corridor. He stopped for a moment, steeling himself. Perhaps if he spoke again with Takeda, he would feel better.

At the top of the steps, two Iranian Pasdaran stood guard, lounging in the passageway, their red scarves much in evidence. One looked down at Kurebayashi, smirked, then said something in Farsi to his companion. The other laughed unpleasantly.

Barbarians...

Silenced gunshots chuffed from some unseen source above and behind Kurebayashi's head. The laughing soldier's eyes bulged as crimson flowers blossomed at his throat, the bridge of his nose, his forehead. The other was still trying to raise his G-3 rifle when a trio of 9mm slugs punched a three-inch triangle through his chest, centered on the middle of his breastbone. His mouth gaped to shout a warning; three more hissing rounds slammed into his face in a wet spray of blood and bone.

Kurebayashi did not wait to identify the attacker, did not even pause to analyze what had just happened. Dropping straight to the landing on the steps, he rolled onto his back, dragging his AKM around as he fell. Shadows flitted across the top of the companionway. Someone was up there in the passageway over his head, moving toward the bridge.

Carefully, he raised his rifle, waiting for a target to move into his line of sight.

0126 hours (Zulu +3)

Bridge access passageway

Freighter Yuduki Maru

Chucker Wilson studied the passageway ahead, empty now save for the bodies of the two Iranians sprawled on the deck beneath twin smears of scarlet on the bulkhead they'd been leaning against. The bridge door between them was closed, and there'd been no sign that anyone on the other side of that massive steel bulkhead had heard.

Lieutenant Murdock slapped his shoulder; it had been swift-triggered three-round bursts from their H&Ks that had brought down the guards. And now the way was clear. At their backs, Lieutenant j.g. DeWitt and Jaybird Sterling stood up, getting ready to advance.

Captain Coburn had been right. Wilson knew he wasn't cut out for any job with the fleet, anymore than he was cut out for a job as a civilian. It was good to be back with the Team again, back where he belonged.

Murdock started toward the bridge door, and Wilson followed, four feet behind.

Somewhere in the back of Wilson's mind, an alarm bell was going off. Something was wrong.

0126 hours (Zulu +3)

Bridge access ladder

Freighter Yuduki Maru

Kurebayashi could hear the footsteps moving across the deck, soft and muffled, but identifiable nonetheless as stealthy footsteps. In another two seconds, the American commando — this must be the work of the Yankee SEALs — would be visible through the open companionway at the top of the steps.

Ever so slightly, his finger tightened on his AKM's trigger.

0126 hours (Zulu +3)

Bridge access passageway

Freighter Yuduki Maru

Wilson knew what had set off the mental alarms. The L-T was advancing toward the bridge door, his H&K held stiffly in front of him with the muzzle covering the door and the two bodies. In a moment, he would step past a companionway, the rail-guarded opening in the deck giving access to a ship's ladder and the next deck down.

And Murdock's attention was so completely focused on the bridge door, he didn't appear to even be aware of the companionway. If there was someone down there, out of sight but ready with a weapon...

There was no time for finesse or even for a radioed warning. With the telescoping butt stock of his own H&K already pressed high against his shoulder, Wilson lunged forward, shoving past a startled Murdock, pivoting sharply to face into the open companionway.

There was someone down there, sprawled on the landing with an assault rifle already raised. Wilson squeezed his trigger as the muzzle flash from the other weapon obscured the enemy soldier's face. His H&K's sound-suppressed burst mingled with the bone-rattling crack-crack-crack of an AKM; he felt something pluck at his thigh, felt something else nudge him hard in the side, but he held his stance, triggering two more quick three-round bursts. The guy on the landing jerked sharply as though kicked, rolled to one side trying to rise, then shuddered and collapsed. Only then did Wilson notice that he was Japanese.

MacKenzie, with his big M-60 slung around his neck, and Bearcat Holt appeared on the landing moments later, probing the body for signs of life.

"That's a dead tango," MacKenzie said, but the words sounded far away and muffled.

Murdock helped Wilson to the deck. "Son of a bitch, Chucker," Murdock whispered harshly in his ear. "Did you think I was going to leave my back open?"

It was only then dawning on Wilson that he'd been hit. There was still no pain, but his side felt numb, as though he'd taken an injection there full of novocaine, and his leg felt hot, sticky, and wet.

"Thought... you weren't gonna check your tail." Holt knelt at Wilson's side and began breaking out a first-aid dressing. Gunfire exploded in the distance.

"That tears it," Murdock said. "We're out in the open now."

"Okay!" DeWitt snapped. "Let's hit the bridge!" Wilson wondered why everyone sounded so very far away.

0126 hours (Zulu +3)

Forward deck

Freighter Yuduki Maru

As the first chatter of automatic weapons fire echoed across the freighter's deck, a SEAL fire team was just moving into position beneath the ladder on the starboard side of the ship's superstructure forward. Chief Ben Kosciuszko and Rattler Fernandez just had time to take cover behind a wooden crate on the deck when the gunfire from topside brought all work forward to an immediate halt.

Someone yelled a warning in Farsi, and then soldiers with readied weapons were trotting aft toward the deckhouse. Kosciuszko eased his M-60 around and squeezed the trigger. Full-auto thunder pounded across the steel deck, hammering down three of the lead Pasdaran soldiers and scattering the rest.

Fernandez raised his M203, sighting at the clutter of propane tanks and cutting equipment stacked up in the center of the deck.

"Hey, Chief," Fernandez yelled above the M-60's thunder. "This ship has pretty thick decks, right?"

"Ten inches of steel, Rattler. I don't think you can hurt 'em with your toy."