Nolan nervously checked his ammo clip and then looked out on the hot and hazy sea. “I wish I did,” he replied, “but I don’t have a clue.” He and Gunner were sitting atop the bridge of the Taiwan Song. They were both armed, sweaty and anxious. Gunner had binoculars and was scanning the sea in all directions. Nolan was doing the same with his specially adapted one-eye night-vision telescope, set for daylight. Down on the bow, two of the Senegals had set up gun slots for their M4 assault rifles. Two more Senegals were covering the stern. The fifth Senegal was on the bridge with the freighter’s crew helping them steer the purloined bucket of bolts. The weather was brutally hot. It was now late morning. They were sailing about thirty miles off the coast of India, barely making five knots. This part of the Indian Ocean was regarded by mariners as particularly treacherous waters. The area had a propensity for freak storms, waterspouts, whirlpools and tsunami-sized rogue waves. Even worse, it was a haven for pirates.
