Chapter 20 - Blackout Protocol
By 2100 hours, a dense coastal fog rolled off the Pacific, blanketing the San Diego coastline in a suffocating shroud of gray mist.
Pier 4 sat in the industrial shadow of the commercial shipyards, bordered by rusted shipping containers stacked four high like iron monoliths. The area was officially designated as an off-limits maintenance berth, but beneath the yellow halogen floodlights, heavy machinery was operating in complete disregard of standard harbor protocols.
Perched atop a decommissioned crane cabin three hundred yards away, Mia adjusted the focus on her thermal spotter scope.
"Count seven hostiles on the tarmac," Mia murmured into her tactical comm headset. "All carrying short-barrel automatic rifles. High-cut helmets, civilian maritime clothing. Private military contractors."
Lying prone beside her, Dylan peered through a pair of night-vision binoculars, sweeping the edge of the deep-water dock. "Look at the vessel docked at Berth B. That’s not a commercial freighter. That’s an ocean-going tactical cutter. Foreign registry."
"The *Caspian Tide*," Mia confirmed, cross-referencing the hull markings with her encrypted database. "Registered to a shell corporation out of Limassol, Cyprus. Owned by Marcus Vance's holding group."
Through the lens, Dylan watched as a forklift moved a large, lead-shielded military container toward the ship’s hydraulic crane. "What's in those crates, Mia? Miller was only stealing rifles and infrared scopes."
"That’s what Miller thought," Mia replied grimly. "Look at the radiation hazard placards on the corner braces. Those aren't standard weapons crates, Dylan. Those are components for experimental electronic warfare pods and tactical guidance systems stolen from the naval testing facility at China Lake. Worth fifty million on the international black market."
Suddenly, the floodlights along the pier flickered twice, then died completely, plunging the entire dockyard into pitch-black darkness.
"They're going dark for final loading," Dylan whispered, his heart accelerating. "They know someone might be tracking the power grid."
"Even better," Mia smiled, a wolfish grin in the shadows of the crane cabin. She pulled down her quad-tube night vision goggles, the world around her illuminating in crisp, ethereal phosphor-white. "They gave us the dark. Never give an operator the dark."
She racked the charging bolt of her suppressed MCX. "We drop down to the container stack on the southern flank. Silence the perimeter guards, secure the crane controls, and shut down that ship's engines before it casts off."
"And Marcus Vance?" Dylan asked, adjusting his own night-vision rig.
May you like
"If the general is on that boat, he answers to us," Mia said. "Move out."
***
