A ship the size of the Sakir would have a crew of ten and a staff of at least twice that number. A single inflatable could only carry ten, but Juan didn’t want to overload their helo and slow them down. Survivors would just have to take turns in the boat while the rest clung to its sides.

Survivors. Juan didn’t know if there would be any. The weather wasn’t ideal, so he doubted there were many people on deck when she capsized, and those trapped inside would be so disoriented that they might not be able to save themselves. Rescuing even ten was being overly optimistic. And if she sank before they arrived, this could turn out to be a total loss.

In that event, they would need the lifeboat for themselves, because their MD 520N helicopter had the range to make it out to the stricken yacht but not enough to return.

“Go!” Juan ordered, and his people scattered.

Afterward they would parse the video to find out how a ship the size of the Sakir could be capsized like that. This was definitely new technology, something that dovetailed into Tesla’s work, but what exactly it was and how it worked could wait until later.

Juan made a brief stop in his cabin to change into a leg better suited for swimming and grabbed some foul-weather gear. The Oregon’s rear hatch was open, and the gleaming black McDonnell Douglas helicopter sat on the hangar bay elevator like a bird of prey. Overhead, the sky looked pained as a storm continued to brew. Of course the weather wouldn’t cooperate. At times like this, Cabrillo found, Mother Nature had a cruel sense of irony.

“Gomez, how are we coming?”

George Adams ducked his head out of the cockpit. “You caught me with my pants down, Chairman. I just started swapping out a radio when Hali called. I need ten minutes to put the old one back.”

“You’ve got five.”

Linc and Mark showed up together. Murph pushed a handcart loaded with an oxyacetylene cutter and other gear while the ex-SEAL carried the eighty-pound inflatable boat in its hard plastic capsule on his shoulder with seemingly little effort. Hali must have told him what to expect because he was dressed in Carhartt’s under a rain suit and steel-toed boots.

“What’s up, Chairman?” Linc asked in his rumbling basso.

“Kenin somehow capsized the Sakir. We may need to cut our way in through the hull.”

“À la Poseidon Adventure?”

“Exactly.”