"They're better equipped to deal with resistance than our boys," answered Dover.
Compton gave the order and they watched as the pilot dipped the Marine helicopter around the stern of the supertanker, its blades beating above the superstructure until it was clear of the radar mast and funnel. Then it hovered for a minute while Garnet studied the deck for any indication of hostility. Satisfied that the huge upper deck was clear, he motioned for the pilot to descend to an open deck area forward of the superstructure.
Below in the water, Jacob's patrol boat closed along the hull just aft of the stern. Grappling hooks were shot out of a pneumatic gun and gripped their hooks onto the bulwarks. The SEALs quickly scaled the rope ladders and spread across the deck, moving toward the main superstructure, arms at the ready. Except for one startled crewman, there was no indication of other life.
Several men under Jacobs's command found bi
cycles used by the crew and mounted them to patrol the enormous deck and oil tank tunnels in search of explosives. Garnet split his men, sending one team down to the engine room and leading the other through the stern superstructure, rounding up the crew and making their way to the wheelhouse. As he stepped onto the bridge, Captain Walsh stormed up to him, indignation written across his face.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. "You people aren't Coast Guard."
Garnet ignored him and spoke over his portable radio. "Admiral Dover. This is Team One. The crew quarters and wheelhouse are secure."
"Commander Jacobs?" inquired Dover. "Report on Team Two."
"We still have a lot of space to cover," replied Jacobs. "But no sign of explosives in the tank areas we've already covered."
Dover turned to Compton. "I'm going over."
A boat was lowered and carried Admiral Dover over to the tanker where Garnet's men had dropped the pilot's boarding ladder. He climbed to the deck and ascended five sets of stairs to the bridge, where he found an angry Walsh.
The captain of the Pacific Trojan seemed surprised at finding a Coast Guard admiral boarding his ship. "I demand to know what in Hades is going on," Walsh snapped at Dover.
"This ship has been reported to be carrying explosives," said Dover. "We are making a routine inspection to verify."
"Explosives!" burst Walsh. "Are you crazy? This is an oil tanker. No one in his right mind would bring explosives on board."
"That's what we intend to find out," Dover replied calmly.
"Your report is ridiculous. Where did it come from?"
"From a high-level official at Cerberus Oil."
"What has Cerberus Oil got to do with anything? Pacific Trojan belongs to the Berwick Shipping Company of Great Britain. We transport oil and chemical products around the world for any number of foreign clients."
"Whose oil are you carrying?" asked Dover.
"This voyage, it belongs to Zandak Oil of Indonesia."
"How long has Berwick been transporting oil for Zandak?"
"More than twenty years."
"Team One reporting," came Garnet's voice over Dover's radio.
"This is Admiral Dover. I'm listening."
"We can find no sign of explosive devices in the engine room or stern superstructure."
"Okay," said Dover. "Give Commander Jacobs a hand. He has far more territory to cover."
An hour passed, while Captain Walsh fumed and paced the bridge like a man in the depths of frustration, knowing that each passing minute the ship was delayed cost his company many thousands of dollars.
Captain Compton came over from the Huron and ascended to the tanker's bridge. "I'm afflicted with impatience," he said, smiling. "I hope you don't mind my dropping in to see how it's going."
"Not well," said Dover in exasperation. "So far there is no sign of explosives or detonation devices. The captain and crew are not acting like men on a suicide mission. I'm beginning to fear we've been conned."
Twenty minutes later, Jacobs reported in. "She's clean, Admiral. We found no trace of explosive material."