"Bolan, Mack - Stony Man 30 - Virtual Peril" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bolan Mack)

one was them. "Manha Three." "Here."
"Secure the line."
"Aye, sir." Less than ten feet away, Manha Three rose
to just below the surface. Conrad couldn't see the man, but
he knew the instructions he'd given.
A silvery sheen of bubbles left from the compressed air
of the speargun was the only thing visible. The trail ended
suddenly when the spear impacted against the wooden side
of the Dragon's Gate.
"Tie on," Conrad ordered. "Count it down when you're
secure." He swam strongly, kicking out hard with his fins.
The trawler pushed through the water at a speed faster than
most of his team could maintain for long despite their train-
ing and conditioning. The window of opportunity for target
lock was shrinking rapidly.
The SEAL team commander touched his face mask and
dropped the modified infrared lenses into place. The ocean
took on a whole new look. Behind him, coming up with

speed, a red glowing line snaked through the water as it
dug into the vessel's side. The infrared lenses picked up
the specially treated line easily.
Conrad grabbed the line without difficulty, submerging
quickly and holding on. The line was knotted every two
feet and made gripping even easier. His team counted off
raggedly, but every man was on.
"Move it," Conrad commanded, pulling himself up the
line. Until then, the ocean had been a friend, buoyant and
supple. Now it became another enemy, shoving and push-
ing against them as the trawler continued on its way. Hand
over hand, Conrad hauled himself along the line. His arms
ached with the effort, but he made himself go forward.
In a long minute, possibly two, he reached the side of
the trawler, then took a small, collapsible grappling hook
from his chest pack and shook out the line. He touched the
release button, and the four flukes popped from the sides.
He spit out a mouthful of salty water and the rebreather
mouthpiece. "Four."
"Ready, sir," the man's voice called out behind him.
"On my. ~ark."
"Aye."
Conrad spun the grappling hook over his head, eresting
the waves expertly. "Go." At the apex of one of the waves,
he let it fly.
"I'm away," Martha Four called out.
Cast well, the grappling hook dropped over the trawler's
side. Conrad held his breath and submerged, quickly draw-
ing up the slack as he slid along the umbilical. The grap-
pling line drew haut with enough force to tug fiercely even
though his falling weight was almost negated by the water.