CARRIER 10: ARSENAL By: Keith Douglass

from both landing zones, at least to the extent of available

reserves.

But, as Sikes had noted, there was always somebody who didn’t get the

word.

0411 Local (+5 GMT) Western Coast of Cuba “Helluva good swim.” Sikes

forced the words out, trying to disguise his urgent desire to suck in

deep, gasping breaths.

To his right, Huerta smiled slightly, recognizing the deception.

“You might start finding time from now on to break away from that

paperwork for more IT,” Huerta mused. He took the entrenching tool out

of his backpack, unfolded it, and began digging a shallow hole near the

base of one tree. He’d already taken his cammies out of the waterproof

pack, carefully reversing the vent that allowed him to pump air out of

the plastic container. He stood, stripped off his wet suit, and folded

it carefully before putting it in the hole. He then slipped into his

cammies.

The other SEALs followed suit, metamorphosing from waterborne warriors

to land commandos. Versatility was one of the most critical qualities

of any SEAL team.

After the preliminaries, they set off east, traveling in a widely

spaced, snaking line toward their objective. Huerta took point and

vanished into the shadows. Sikes caught an occasional glimpse of him,

sometimes just the slightest hint of movement, but never saw the man in

profile against the sky, or the slightest glimmer of equipment. It was

as though he was a ghost, an unnatural presence stalking the land.

Sikes tried his best to follow suit, knowing that in the arcane science

of this type of warfare, he was hopelessly outclassed.

Finding the concrete building where their objective was supposedly

housed was simple. At that hour of the night, men’s spirits and

attention spans are at their lowest. With the sun still hours away,

even in the southern tropical climate, sentries around the world found

it difficult to concentrate on the graduated shades of black and shadow

around them. If anyone were still on watch, not drawn off to the north

by the diversion, that is. The SEALs were counting on the Arsenal

ship’s evening the odds.

They clustered together under a small clump of bushes and conferred in

soft whispers and hand movements. Their intelligence said that Miss

Drake was hardly here against her will, although the Cubans might have

been less than cooperative in letting her go. Too, given the prior

incursion of the SEALs onto their island, it might be reasonable to

expect a heavier guard on her. While they publicly hooted about any

threat that a Cuban security force might pose to a team of SEALs,

privately each man knew that an armed guard of any kind could pose a

problem. That, and your luck going sour on you at the worst possible

moment.

A few minutes of observing the compound did much to allay their

fears.

Although the base blazed with lights, there was evidently only one

patrol, and he was a slackard at best, criminally negligent at worst.

The Cuban patrolled at regular intervals, pacing his way easily around

the compound in continuous circles. With a nightscope, Huerta watched

him, noting how the man kept his attention centered on the lighted

areas, never peering beyond the fence into the dark shadows surrounding

the compound.

The Cuban nodded, satisfied. It was doable.

With the arrival of the team outside the compound, leadership of the

evolution had shifted to SEAL3. Sikes waited until he saw the hand

signal, nodded acknowledgment, then darted silently forward. He was

wearing the nighttime version of woodland green cammies, a combination

of burnt green and dark gray that made him part of the night. He

darted twenty feet across open land, then settled down into the grass

surrounding the fence. A few quick experiments told him their

intelligence was accurate it wasn’t electrified, a relief, even though

the SEALs had come prepared to deal with that eventuality if

necessary.

Garcia joined him moments later and pulled an insulated set of wire

snips out of his back pocket. Two minutes later, there was a

SEAL-sized hole in the wire fence.

Sikes and Garcia squiggled through it, found cover, and waited for

Huerta and Carter to join them. Operating in teams of two, they

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