The boat’s communications man sent a message to Nacay over the encrypted radio. Thirty seconds later, a siren wailed over the mothership’s public address system. The entire ship was on alert-three status, meaning that every man had to be at his battle station within three minutes of the siren—but most were ready in one.

Four crewmen rolled the helicopter out of its container and began unfolding its rotors while two others launched a small commercial drone off the bow. The eight-engine drone had originally been designed for the movie industry and was capable of flying at sixty miles per hour, carrying a heavy camera, and an hour’s worth of flight time—all while remaining too small to be detected by a ship’s radar.

“Drone is up, good feed,” said the drone pilot over the radio. “Objective coming into view.”

Nacay watched on his laptop as an image of the ship emerged from the darkness. It was roughly seven hundred feet long and a hundred feet wide, a “coastal” tanker, small by tanker standards but perfect for smuggling oil into a sanctioned country. Though it was the type of ship they’d been told to expect, and where they’d been told to expect it, the route between the Strait of Hormuz and the Strait of Malacca was the prime oil shipping route to Asia, and there were hundreds of similar ships afloat.

They had to be sure they had the right one.

“Drone, show me the stern,” Nacay said over the radio.

The target ship was moving at a steady fifteen knots as he read its name using the drone’s night vision camera.

Amjad.

“Target confirmed,” he said. “Drone, switch to thermal and fly a low orbit.”

The matte black drone descended to a hundred feet above the surface and flew a racetrack pattern around the tanker from a quarter mile away. The lower altitude and heat-sensing thermal camera would reveal any crewmembers who’d been obscured from overhead surveillance by a roof or other structure.

“We’ve got a single lookout on the bow, one on starboard quarter and one on port quarter,” said the drone pilot. “No sign of weapons.”

“Concur, three personnel on deck,” said Nacay. “Boat-1, the forward lookout is yours. Air-1, you have two targets, one on port quarter and one on starboard quarter.”

“Boat-1 has the forward lookout,” confirmed the team leader.

“Air-1, two targets, roger,” confirmed the pilot. He was already in his seat with the rotors turning and the Allison turboshaft engine warming up. Nacay was strapped in next to him as they waited on deck.

They let the tanker pass.

“All teams, stand by for launch orders,” said Nacay once the tanker was two miles in front of them. He entered positions, headings, and speeds for the target and the other vessels into a worksheet on his laptop.