State Of The Union

Next, he made sure his boat was ready to sail. He went over the entire craft from stem to stern and made sure everything was literally shipshape. After that, there was nothing left to do but wait.

Hidden within a small outcropping of rock on the side of the inlet where his boat was moored, was a narrow fissure just big enough for Leighton to wedge himself into and be concealed. The waiting seemed to last an eternity, but he was patient. The night was dark and did not offer much ambient light, which greatly reduced the effectiveness of the old night vision binoculars now clutched in his hands. When he finally did notice something near the beach, he thought his tired eyes were playing tricks on him. Leighton squeezed his eyes shut for several seconds, trying to dissipate some of the ‘orange burn’ so common with use of night vision optics.

When he looked back through the binoculars again, the shapes appeared not to have moved.Probably just piles of kelp washed in by the tide, he thought to himself. The Baltic was famous for the large seaweed forests that populated its sea floor. Then, as he was about to lower the binoculars and give his eyes another rest, he noticed it-movement. They were here.

As Leighton extricated himself from his hiding place, it took several minutes for him to get the blood flowing into his legs again. Though the site had provided an exceptional vantage point, he should have stretched more often. His body was not as forgiving as it used to be.

With his Finnish-made JatiMatic PDW drawn, Leighton quietly crept toward the beach. He picked his way along the jagged shoreline, slogging through frigid knee-deep tidal pools, while using the abundance of large rocks for cover as best he could.

When he neared the field of smooth, ocean-tumbled stones that functioned as the inlet’s beach, Leighton crouched behind the last large rock that stood between him and the wide-open space. As the waves splashed against the shore and further soaked his already drenched trousers, he once again raised the night vision binoculars and studied the two shapes he had been looking at before. Upon closer inspection, he still couldn’t tell if they were piles of kelp or something more. But he had seen movement. He was sure of it.

At that moment, a voice from behind and to the left caught him completely off-guard. “Mr. Leighton, I presume?” Leighton stiffened in surprise.

“Please set down your weapon and turn around slowly,” continued the voice.

Leighton did as he was told. As he turned around, the man who had addressed him lowered the M4 he had pointing at him, pulled off the strings of camouflaging kelp that were hanging from his dry suit, and stepped the rest of the way out of the water. “I’m Norseman,” the man said, holding out a gloved hand.

Leighton was speechless. He hadn’t even heard so much as a ripple from the water. Whoever this guy was, he was good. Though he cautiously shook the man’s hand, Frank Leighton still wasn’t convinced they were on the same side.

Harvath shouldered his weapon and removed his fins, tucking them under his left arm. Taking off his gloves, he slid them underneath his weight belt and then signaled the beach and the rusting trawler with a small, waterproof IR strobe. When his signals were returned, Harvath removed his facemask and said to Leighton, “It looks like a nice night for a boat ride. Let’s get going.”

On the beach, they rendezvoused with Leighton’s two piles of kelp, operatives Morrell and DeWolfe. Knowing that he had spotted at least part of the team made Leighton feel only slightly better. Though his skills were still good, they weren’t near what they used to be.

Forgoing the courtesy of an introduction, Morrell asked, “Where’s the device?”

“Let’s establish somebona fides first,” replied Leighton.

“I thought we already did that.”

“We’re off to an okay start, but if you think I’m going to hand my responsibilities over to a group of frogmen who show up and just happen to speak English without any accents and claim to be on my side, you’re quite mistaken.”

“Listen,” snapped Morrell. “Don’t try my fucking patience. This suit is good for only about ten more minutes and then my body heat, which you are prematurely raising, is going to begin leaching out. I’m sure our friends the Russians out there on the water are using thermal imaging to keep an eye on this place. If they notice more than one warm body on this island, they might think there’s a little beach barbecue going on and want to come in for a closer look. We can’t let that happen.”

Leighton, far from being a pushover, went toe-to-toe with Morrell and said, “Then you’d better keep your cool.”

Morrell raised his M4 and pointed it right at Leighton’s chest. “No, I think you’d better get with the fucking program.”

“This guy always have a mouth like this?” asked Leighton, turning toward Harvath.

“Not usually. He must have lost his thesaurus on the swim in.”