12
Merchant of Death had dropped so close to wave height that Bill wanted to pull up his feet to keep them dry. The Sepeda was big enough that this storm didn’t toss her around much, but they were surrounded by truly awful seas.
The bow crested out of the darkness impossibly close, but the pilot must know that. A moment later, Merchant popped up over the bow, spinning until he faced into the wind, and came to a hover over the front, twenty feet above the oil tanker’s deck.
Michael tossed the FRIES descent rope free so that it dangled from a small hanger on the helo. As the two-inch braided rope snaked toward the deck, Michael had wrapped his gloved hands and his boots around it and was sliding out of sight.
Bill counted to three and slid down behind him. He hit the deck at the same mom
