With two SEALs below and the rest still at the top, it was time for the most difficult maneuver, getting President Smitrov down. Hall fashioned a crude rope basket stretcher to hold the wounded man and fastened it to the rappelling lines. The pair below guided the lines while the team above slowly lowered the stretcher, trying all the while to keep it from bouncing against the rocks. The men were as gentle as possible lowering the wounded man, but the brisk wind kept threatening to send the rough stretcher crashing into the rocks. The cliff was hard enough to do more damage to the Russian president’s body. Jason Hall slipped over the top and edged down the sheer drop, using his body to cushion Smitrov from the rock wall. It was slow, tedious work, but in ten minutes, Smitrov’s stretcher rested on the beach.

Broughton followed Dumkowski down the rope. The wounded SEAL refused to even grunt from the considerable pain when his leg slammed into the rocks. Beaman took one more look around and followed.

As they gathered their equipment, a small black shape emerged from the waters a few meters out in the fjord and moved toward the beach. It barely rose above the wave tops. The short upright periscope was the only thing that might draw any attention to it.

Dumkowski saw it first. He pointed and said, “Skipper, looks like our ride is here.”

The ASDV eased in until it was ten meters from shore and a third of its bulk was above the surface. That was as close as Hector Gonzales could safely maneuver the mini-sub without running into the rocks and risking damage.

Johnston gathered up his gear and headed out into the freezing-cold water.

“Come on,” he growled. “Hot chow and a shower’s waitin’ for us when we get back.”

He swam the last few feet to the mini-sub, then ducked under the surface to go into the ASDV through its bottom entrance.

Cantrell and Hall followed, carrying the wounded Smitrov above the surface as far as they could. They, too, ducked under. Hall held his big hand over the Russian president’s mouth and pinched his nose shut with his fingers. They entered the sub’s underside hatch and handed Smitrov up to Johnston.

As the last four were gathering their equipment, Beaman heard the ominous, heavy beat of a helicopter heading up the fjord. He knew immediately what it was. “Sounds like company coming. Let’s get out of here!”