Page 7 of All The Way Under

CHAPTER FOUR

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“And you’re sure you’ll be able to complete the operation without blowing everything and yourself up?” Commander asks, a brow raised.

He’s nervous, and I can’t blame him. It’s the first mission of its kind in the SEAL Teams, and I’ll be doing it solo.

It requires some acting and skills that, honestly, I’m not sure I possess, so I’ll have to ad-lib.

It also doesn’t have a definitive start or end date.

It’s a however long it takes to get what we need and out of there safely kind of situation.

We plan for many different scenarios when we’re preparing for missions, but this operation is something we can’t plan for.

“I’m not worried about your infiltrating the pirate camp and extracting the hostage. I’m worried about the in between, McCoy. When no one is supposed to know who you really are. The hostage can’t know you’re an operator, either.” He looks at me sideways. “Can you blend in?”

I nod.

“I know I’m an asshole who can’t hold his tongue, and I’m quick to react in real life when dealing with idiots, but this is work, and I will be able to fulfill everything needed of me. I know it,” I tell him, laying a hand on my chest.

I feel guilty for the poor idiot being kidnapped in the first place, but it was also part of our plan, so I don’t feel that bad. It had to happen for my part in this to be possible.

“This can’t be a traditional mission where we all storm in there, guns blazing. It needs to be covert. I’m the man for this job,” I say, shifting in the uncomfortable seat in our naval ship’s office.

The air is stale and always has a metallic, oily scent. If I think about it too much, it makes me want to throw up.

“I can blend in.”

Even as I say it, I think about tactics I’ll use to keep my true identity from the enemy and their captive. Act like Nolan, I think. He’s the only other person I know as well as myself. I already look like him. I just need to act like him—have the patience he has. Is that even possible?

My teammates left muster several minutes ago after it was declared that I was the man for this particular job. Not just because of my tenure, but mostly because of my sparkling personality.

“I know you are a man who can give people hell, McCoy. You know the hostage is female? We didn’t plan on who the hostage was going to be. It was just her unlucky day.”

I blow out an annoyed breath.

“I can deal with females. Why does everyone think I’m this Neanderthal without any social graces?”

He chuckles under his breath.

“You kind of are, no offense. I didn’t say anything in muster, but we got a little more intel about what kind of female this is.

She’s from one of the wealthiest families in the States.

All we knew when we jammed her navigation system was that it was extremely high-tech and suspicious given her coordinates.

There was no reason for us to believe that was a civilian boat.

We aren’t in the wrong here, but we weren’t right either.

As such, her family is demanding her back unharmed.

They’re demanding it pretty emphatically too. You must succeed.”

Hissing out a breath, I close my eyes.

“Fantastic. The Coast Mafia knew exactly what they were doing when they took her then. We needed a kidnapping for ransom to get in. We didn’t need this one, though,” I say.

“At least we know her family will pay if things don’t go according to plan.

If I need to get her out of there quick, for say, medical reasons, her family can be a backup plan if I need to stay there longer. ”

The way Commander is looking at me tells me he hopes it doesn’t come to that.

“Hey, we have no idea what’s going to happen when I get there. There could be more than one organized crime syndicate in play if she’s worth that much. The crime rings don’t all operate the same. You know that.” I pause. “How much are we talking for ransom?”

Commander grunts and shakes his head.

“Millions. The mother demanded to talk to the captain of our ship because she thought that he was in charge, and they let her believe that. The FBI put her through because I guess she’s got a screw loose and hollering about who she knows on the inside.

But McCoy,” he deadpans. “If, when you get there, she’s unharmed, you have to make sure she stays that way just to be on the safe side. ”

“I get it. That was always the plan. What’s her profile?” I ask.

Commander shifts the stack on the desk in front of him and hands me a cream folder with paperclips sticking out.

“She’s a talented sailor in her own right. She won the America’s Cup. That is an incredible feat,” he states.

I open the folder and see a photo of her holding a silver bowl-shaped trophy with a wide smile. The picture is black and white, but I can tell she’s blonde and thin. Basically, she’s exactly what I thought she’d look like. A fucking moron who sails alone in dangerous waters.

“She is twenty-eight and has a degree from Columbia,” he says.

Okay, maybe not a fucking moron, but still an idiot.

He goes on. “She is unmarried and owns more real estate than a monarch. Her dad served in the Navy for ten years while having a trust fund with nine zeros at the end, so not all typical stuff in here. She works as an engineer at the family company. Wyndham is the last name,” he says as I scan the words, trying to soak everything in that may be of any importance to me.

What makes her tick? Does she have pets? What can I say about her world to have something in common with her?

I meet his gaze when it registers.

“Like Wyndham Technology?” I ask, unable to keep the shock from my voice. “That family?”

“Same family,” he replies, tone low. “So when I say keep her safe, it’s less of a suggestion and more of a direct order.” He laughs as he finishes his sentence.

They developed the software that created AI, along with a laundry list of cutting-edge technology the military uses daily. It is the biggest tech company in the world.

“The mom really meant she knew people on the inside then,” I remark, reading over the rest of the notes.

She has a sister, I notice, and store that information for later.

“I’m going to take this with me to look over tonight.”

I tap the file on the desk, and it makes an echoing noise.

“You picked the right guy, Commander. It’s going to be great to finally nail these assholes to the wall and dismantle this.”

Another kidnapping-for-ransom band will more than likely pop up, but taking apart the criminal ring that is being funded is our end goal.

Commander grabs my shoulder.

“I know you’ll make me proud, McCoy. I think putting you outside of your comfort zone is going to be good for you, for our squadron. You’ve been on the Teams a long time. This is exactly what you need to propel you to the next level of development. Something that challenges every part of you.”

I nod, unable to let his words sink in. “Thank you, sir.”

Commander tells me when I’ll set sail, and hands me another file with all the details about the sailboat I’ll be on and the coordinates where I’ll sail to—not far from where our target was captured, honestly.

They’ll implant a chip under the skin near my wrist tomorrow morning before I take off.

It’s undetectable by the naked eye, and I can trigger communication by a combination of hard presses to let my Team know it’s time to come if need be.

He talks me through the process, and I nod along, a little freaked out because I’ve never had one before.

When he’s sure I don’t have any other questions, he tells me a phrase to use if necessary, and then he leaves, the door shutting behind him like a can of tinned meat.

I jolt at the noise and take all the information back to my berthing, where I immediately pull up my secret laptop and go down a rabbit hole to find out as much as I can about this family.

I want to know things the file doesn’t have.

Take a peek to see if she has social media or other professional accolades I should know about.

Ah, so the black-and-white photo doesn’t do her justice.

She’s attractive in the conventional way.

Symmetrical face, perfectly balanced features, and big blue eyes.

I shudder at what’s possibly happening to her at this very second.

Hopefully, by this point, the captors know how valuable she is, dictating them to keep their bodies and weapons to themselves.

Clicking an article with the Wyndham last name in it brings me to an exposé about her.

Saylor Wyndham. Not only isn’t she a fucking moron, but she’s also incredibly intelligent.

I’ve used some of the technology her team helped create.

Her most recent project focuses on neural transmissions.

Essentially, your brain is syncing with technology, so you can control computers and technology with your thoughts, thus bypassing the keyboard or touchscreen.

A tiny chip implanted on the back of the neck reads the neural waves from our brains and talks to the computer.

It’s similar technology I’ll have implanted tomorrow, but not as nuanced and brilliant, if I’m being honest with myself.

The commonalities I share with the captor’s family are unexpected. Her dad went to the Naval Academy, just like me. He majored in mechanical engineering, just like me, and their main US residence is near where I live, but that’s where the similarities end.

The Wyndhams have real estate all over the world, and the mother, Bianca, supports so many charities and foundations that I don’t even read them all.

The list is too long to scroll to the bottom.

The sister, Bronwyn, is a philanthropist who runs an art museum with her husband.

The laundry list of Ivy League degrees and accomplishments goes on and on.

I want to hate them on principle, but I can’t.

Not fully, anyway. I email my brother before I go to sleep.

Nolan,