Scorpion Strike. John Gilstrap

why is that?”

      “Because we’re safe here, at least for now. People with guns are already looking for us. Why would you deliberately piss off the only armed friends we have on the island?”

      “Listen to them,” Lori said. “I think they may be right.”

      Hunter’s mouth set in a thin line. “Look, I don’t like this guy. I don’t trust him. We’ve already caught him in lie after lie. Why should we trust him now?”

      “Because he saved your life?” Tyler offered.

      “No,” Hunter said. “Even that’s a lie. He saved his own life. We were just there. And he wasn’t happy about it.”

      “So, what is your plan?” Jaime pressed. “You follow them and find them without getting caught or getting shot. Then what? It seems to me that you’ll only get in the way of whatever they’re trying to do.”

      “That’s the part I want to know,” Hunter said. “That’s the part I don’t trust.” He turned to Lori. “Are you coming with me or staying with them?”

      Tyler felt sorry for her. She looked like she wanted to stay, but she stepped off with Hunter.

      “What about you two?” Hunter said.

      “I think I will stay here,” Jaime said.

      “Yeah, I’m good,” Tyler replied.

      “We won’t wait for you, you know,” Hunter warned. “If we get the opportunity to sail away, we’re gone. No looking back.” He didn’t wait for an answer. He turned on his heel and led Lori into the darkness behind the shed.

      “Not a lovable guy,” Jaime said.

      Tyler coughed out a laugh. “Yeah, no shit.”

      * * *

      Venice’s computer dinged with an incoming message at the precise moment Boxers slammed his way into the Cave and strode into the War Room. “What do we know?” he said. If he saw Dom sitting in the chair nearest the door, he made no indication.

      “And good morning to you, too,” Venice said. After one look at Big Guy, she abandoned her effort to lighten the moment. He was amped and in no mood for small talk. “We know they’re healthy, and we know that their island resort is under assault.”

      Her telephone rang. She looked at the caller ID. “And we know he’s on the phone.” She pressed the speaker button. “Hello, Scorpion. I’m here with our Special Friend and Big Guy.” It was a long-standing tradition to avoid the use of real names when dealing with any aspect of the business that might involve shooting. Special Friend was the unofficial covert handle for Father Dom.

      “The hell’s goin’ on down there, Boss?” Boxers said.

      “Still trying to figure that out, Big Guy. I apologize to the entire world for interrupting your ever-critical beauty sleep.”

      “At least you’ve got a few thousand miles of separation,” Dom quipped.

      “Yeah, ha, ha,” Boxers said. “But seriously.”

      “Mother Hen, I just sent you a picture of the ship that transported our bad guys to the island. I’ll take whatever you can figure out, as quickly as you can figure it out.”

      “You got a plan?” Boxers asked. His body language screamed that he was ready for a fight.

      “Sort of,” Jonathan said. “Gunslinger and I are going to board the vessel and see what we can see.”

      The big screen at the end of the conference table lit up with the picture Jonathan had sent. According to the bow markings, they were looking at the Olympia 3, and the flag of registry was from Denmark.

      “You’re being invaded by Danes?” Boxers said with a chuckle.

      “I wouldn’t trust any of the official markings,” Jonathan said. “We want to get on board and out in as little time as possible, so if you can somehow give me an idea of the layout, that would make things a lot simpler. Personally, I think it’s some kind of old minesweeping ship.”

      “Got it,” Venice said. The big screen danced again, and now the display showed a black-and-white twin of the ship in Jonathan’s message. “It appears to be a YMS Class minesweeper, circa early 1950s.”

      “How did you do that?” Jonathan asked. Off-mic, they could hear him relaying to Gail that Venice had already identified the type of boat.

      “There’s a thing called the Internet,” Venice said as she continued to type. “It’s searchable and they’ve got pictures and everything.”

      “What are you going to be looking for?” Boxers asked.

      “Whatever we can find. I want to know who we’re up against.”

      “Pretty high-risk fishing trip,” Boxers said.

      “I don’t know that it is,” Jonathan said. “There doesn’t seem to be a security contingent around the ship. I can’t imagine that to be the case, but whatever they’ve left behind is a small crew. The bulk of their forces are deployed guarding guests and whatever else they’re doing back at the resort.”

      “That sounds like there’s some distance between you and them,” Dom said.

      The screen at the end of the table changed again, and there was an annotated aerial photo of the Crystal Sands Resort, courtesy of the island’s publicity department. “I just pulled up a map of your resort,” Venice said. “I presume you’re down at the piers?”

      “Exactly.”

      The island was roughly the shape of the letter C, oriented with the open part facing south. Beaches surrounded the entire landmass, with lowlands at the east and western ends, and hills in the middle. The piers were located on the easternmost side, with the resort structures on the western side.

      “Boss, I gotta tell you that I think it’s a mistake to try to take down a vessel that size by yourself.”

      “First of all, I’ve got Gunslinger with me, and second, I’m not going to take it down. We’re going to get in and out and gather some intel.”

      “How about you just hunker down and wait for the cavalry?” Boxers suggested.

      “Easier said than done,” Venice said. That drew the attention of everyone in the room. “Our Special Friend arranged for me to have a chat with Wolverine a little while ago. The Crystal Sands Island is privately held, but it is loosely a possession of Costa Rica.”

      “So, the FBI has no jurisdiction,” Jonathan said, jumping ahead.

      “It’s even more complicated than that,” Venice said. “Costa Rica is one of just a handful of countries on the planet without a military. Even if they wanted to come and get you, they’d have no forces to do it with.”

      When she was done, Boxers and Dom both stared with expressions of disbelief. “Tell me that was a joke,” Big Guy said.

      “Wish I could,” Venice said.

      “That sort of sucks,” Jonathan said.

      “Baker Sinise’s brochures brag about an anything-goes resort,” Dom said. “I guess that helps explain how he gets away with it. There’s no one around to enforce whatever laws they might have.”

      “How big is your OpFor, Boss?” Opposition force.

      “I estimate something north of two dozen.”

      “You can’t win that fight. Not without force multipliers.”

      “It won’t be pleasant,” Jonathan agreed, “but we don’t have a whole lot of choice. For now, we’re just gathering intel. We’ve found a place to hole up and stay out of the way during daylight hours.”

      “Then just stay