2310 Hours
25 NM from San Diego
La Flor Baja
"Don't worry! No one's out here this late at night! I've been doing this job for five years, the only thing the Coast Guard has ever done is give a wave 'hello." Nonetheless, the captain of the yacht wore a G3 across his back. His partner, his third time on this run, still as jittery as a windup monkey - but to his credit, getting better and far above adequately functional - had the stereotypical AK-47 - cheap, as he hadn't gotten much of his share of the dough yet and he'd preferred to spend much of it on sinful pleasure and getting out of debt.
+++"Are you very sure about that? And what about the Air Force? I hear their spy-drones are pretty beefed up...." He'd managed to cull the nervous tone, but not the attitude. +++"The military itself wouldn't worry about us. Why should they? They've got terrorists to worry about. And it wouldn't be the Air Force, it'd be those fags from the Navy. They're all too busy in their big ships at port getting drunk and screwing anything with a hole." That earned a smirk, and one of their friends laughed out loud. In total, only three of the ten man crew were on the bridge, two more out on the deck, and the other five down sleeping or guarding the cocaine they were transporting, supplied from various organizations, such as FARC. Roughly 5,000 kilos were in the yacht, and ten more were on their way with them, only one in visual sight, though.
+++The radio crackled and a small light lit on it, indicating transmission just as the words started. "This is three, radio check." It wasn't the one within sight.
+++"Two here." Said the inexperienced of the three on the small bridge of the yacht, speaking into the handheld microphone. Boats one, five, seven, and eight soon followed up. The rest were outside of radio range. The lack of total continuity, but some continuity, was effectively like the 'release three pigs labeled 1, 2, and 4 into a building and see how long it takes the authorities to realize they've been looking for a nonexistent pig #3 for the past hour..." That was, if anyone was listening in. The next radio check was due to be in 23 minutes.
Twenty three minutes later, however, boat eight - as scheduled, didn't start the radio check. Five minutes after that - "This is seven. Boat eight isn't in it's position. I'm going back to do a search. Maybe they lost power. Will radio back in five minutes." It only took four. "Visual on boat eight. No lights. Probably power loss. We're going to help." That violated their rule of not having two boats so close to each other, but if anyone found a derelict boat in the middle of the ocean with 5,000 kilos of cocaine and a crew of ten men, things would wind up far worse than they wanted. "Will call in five."
+++The call didn't come. Ten minutes later, another scheduled radio check. Seven and eight were missing. Fifteen after that, one was missing.
+++"This is bad."
+++"For once kid, I agree with you." But all on their side of things looked calm, but the captain of the yacht still kicked up the speed to full to try to get off the blue before they ended up missing too, for whatever reason. One thing was on the back of their minds - Coast Guard.
+++"All boats, emergency! Chopper in the air! Chopper in the air!" One of the other boats out of visual range called out. "Scatter off your courses!"
+++"This is four! I've got one here too!"
+++When it couldn't get any worse, boat three, within visual range of their boat, was not responding. "We've got to get out of here, now!" The captain of the boat said, grabbing the yoke and pulling it to the side away from their assigned buddy. "Screw them! I'm not getting caught!"
+++"Too late, buddy." A small p***k of cold steel pressed hard into the back of his neck. "Care explaining why my squadmates just radioed in that they found a crapload of drugs down in your hold?"
+++"And don't you dare confuse us for no ******** puddle-jumpers, either." That statement was punctuated by the captain's blackout due to "blunt trauma," implemented via the butt of a weapon, likewise with the rookie and other man on the bridge. No shots fired at the end of the night, just over a hundred men captured, and well over 50,000 kilos of cocaine.
+++It was a short trip back to their base. Coronado - in San Diego Bay - the center of the SEALs, was a perfect place to start off the crusade. Ease of movement for the 2,000 SEALs there meant that each helicopter could make very long sorties and even deliver multiple teams on one single trip.... if activity were up to it, which, for tonight, was an understatement for a short bit of time.
Easy pickings. No written charters, but a few notes would lead the next strike forces to port of call for the smugglers, as well as a few other ships for the coming nights.
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