Page 50 of Broken SEAL

“TJ, it’s Ali. There’s been an incident. The fishing boat we chartered was hit by another boat and sank.”

“Shit, is everyone OK?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. We’re safe on the beach, and emergency services have been contacted. Mike and Rick have gone to the logging camp after Saber. She shot off once we landed. Mike thinks she’s gone after the pups.”

“OK, keep me posted. Send me a message as soon as emergency services pick you guys up.”

“Will do. Sorry to have woken you.”

“No problem, anytime, Ali.”

He placed the phone back on his nightstand.

“That doesn’t sound good,” said Deb, from her side of the bed. “Do we need to start looking at a contingency plan?”

TJ let out a sigh. “Yeah, probably best to have something on standby.” He sat up in bed, and Deb did the same. “I’m going to make some calls.”

“Me too. I’ve got a contracted air solution that I can push north if required. I’ll put them on thirty minutes’ notice to move.”

TJ leaned across and kissed his wife. “Sorry to wake you, babe.”

She smiled. “My love, we live for this shit.”

“Ain’t that the truth!”

Chapter Nineteen

Mike and Rick moved quickly, heading north toward the logging camp. The clouds had cleared, helping them navigate the debris that storms had strewn across the rocky beach. Only once was their route fully blocked, forcing them to box around a jumble of logs and flotsam. Axe waited for them as they ducked into the woods and reappeared on the other side.

Their elevated heart rate soon warmed them, despite their wet clothes and shoes. Being damp and sandy was something SEALs were used to, and neither man complained. It took them a quarter of an hour to reach the edge of the log sorting yard. They crouched in the treeline and waited to see if there was any movement.

“That’s the boat,” whispered Mike, as moonlight reflected off the large, heavy-duty workboat. There was a pickup parked on the wharf alongside. Lights flashed as someone stepped off the vessel, and a moment later, the truck started. Both men lowered their eyes as the truck’s headlights lit up the sorting yard.

They waited till the pickup drove through the yard and its taillights disappeared along the track that led to the sheds.

Axe let out a soft whine as he nuzzled Mike’s hand.

“OK, bud,” said Mike. “Lead the way.”

They followed him around the edge of the yard, careful to skirt the portable office they’d spotted with the drone. Axe found a trail that led in the right direction, allowing them to move swiftly through the thick woodland.

“Mike,” whispered Rick as they slowed to cross a stream. “Do you think there are bears out here?”

“Yeah, heaps of them. Vancouver Island has one of the densest populations of black bears around.” Mike stepped through the cold water and clambered up the other bank.

“Shit, I’m not into bears,” murmured Rick as he followed.

The trail led to the rear of the fuel point. From there, they had a good view into the clearing and the cluster of sheds. All three of them knew the drill, and they settled in to watch for any movement.

Mike spotted the pickup that had come from the yard. It was parked in front of one of the larger sheds, with its tailgate down. Whatever had been transported from the boat had likely been moved inside. A strip of light was visible under the roller door, and they could hear snippets of conversation carried on the sea breeze.

Suddenly, there was a bark from one of the smaller buildings.

“Saber,” said Mike. “Axe, hold.”

The dog let out a low growl as Saber barked again.

“She’s going to give the game away,” said Rick.