Free Fallen Angel by Jeff Struecker Page B

down a ladder to the RHIB. A sailor at the foot of the ladder took hold of the young man's arm and helped him aboard. Crispin looked up the side of the ship. "See, Shaq, there's no need for you to be afraid anymore."
    "I'm gonna kill 'em, Boss."
    "He's just trying to be encouraging." Moyer caught the chief grinning. "Why don't you go next?"
    "I don't mind bringing up the rear."
    "You know, you do look a little green. It's gonna be worse in the dingy so let's shake a leg. You'll feel better on the fishing boat."
    "No, he won't." The chief was still grinning. "No stabilizers on that craft."
    "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Shaq's voice had lost its edge.
    "Who? Me?"
    A voice came over a loudspeaker. "Speed it up, Chief."
    "If you don't mind, Sergeant Major. Your team is putting me on the skipper's dirt list."
    "Understood, Chief." Moyer turned to Rich. "In the boat, pal."
    Two minutes later, a petty officer in the small wheelhouse of the boat hit the throttles, sending the rubber-hulled boat skipping over the swells and white caps. Moyer began to feel like Rich looked.
    It took only a few moments for the RHIB to cross the distance from the Michael Monsoor . Standing at the gunwales were three Japanese men. One looked to be in his forties, the other two in their twenties. As the transport craft neared, the younger Japanese fishermen dropped a rope ladder over the side.
    The petty officer at the wheel slowed and turned to Moyer and his men. "This is the dicey part. I have to get close but not smash us into the boat's hull. We're going to get bumped around some, so be careful of your footing. One person on the ladder at a time, no more. Get up to the deck as quickly as possible but be careful of your step. You really don't want to go swimming."
    "You got that right," Rich said.
    "Who's first?" the petty officer asked.
    "That'd be me." Moyer stood and moved to the port side of the craft. "Let's do this, sailor."
    "Aye, aye." He feathered the engines so the RHIB inched closer.
    The cold wind whipped around Moyer and bit at his ears. He was glad it wasn't winter. He pointed at each of his men, giving them the order in which they would climb the ladder.
    "Stand by." The petty officer turned the boat sideways as he neared the larger vessel. A swell lifted the craft and slammed into the fishing boat's metal hull. "Go." The man didn't yell, but he made sure he could be heard.
    Moyer didn't hesitate. He scrambled to the ladder. Ocean spray stung his eyes and as he took his first step on a tread, the RHIB dropped from beneath him as swell turned into trough.
    "Whoa!" Moyer tightened his already viselike grip on the ladder. The fishing boat tipped toward the trough and the ladder swung away from the hull before the trough became swell. Moyer wasted no time moving up. Before he reached the ship's rails, two pairs of hands seized him by the arms and yanked. Before he could speak, Moyer was seated on the deck, everything intact but his dignity. He pushed himself to his feet and moved to the rail. Below were his wide-eyed men. "Piece of cake."
    "Yeah, bet me." Shaq shook his head.
    Next up was J. J. He grinned the entire time and made it look effortless. Moyer hated youth.
    The others followed, each helped over the rail by the crew. Rich was the last aboard and the moment his foot hit the deck, the RHIB roared away.
    "Welcome aboard the Komagata Maru ." The speaker was the older of the three men, Moyer saw as they approached.
    "Thank you. Um, your English—"
    "Thanks, I've been working on it. It's not hard. I was born and reared in Michigan."
    "Oh, sorry. I assumed—"
    "That's the idea. Every member of the crew is U.S. born." He held out his hand. "Commander Sam Sasaki, United States Navy. I'm the skipper of this fine vessel."
    "I don't mean to be rude, Commander, but to my untrained eye, it looks a little worse for wear."
    "It took a lot of taxpayer money to make it look this way."
    Moyer nodded. Camouflage applied to more than uniforms.