Chapter 112
Using the GPS locator on his wrist, Sam knew he was almost perfectly on target. This afternoon in the tour helicopter he’d marked the exact location of the ship’s hatch. She hadn’t moved since.
He let himself freefall until he was through the cloud cover. After he broke through at eleven hundred feet and could see exactly where the ship lay, he waited another six hundred feet before opening his parachute.
The black rectangular ram-air chute snapped open with a crack, but no one on the deck reacted, even though he was close enough to see them clearly.
As planned, the full-throttle roar of the Customs boat’s engines masked any noise he might make.
Through his night-vision gear he could see the body heat of the man once again perched in the hide atop the Monkey Island—the hig
