"Can't confirm anything, SEAL One. Just too much damned fog. . . . Wait, yeah, they've got assault rifles of some kind. Looks like some big-time shit. That's a definite confirm."
"Do they look like they're setting up?"
"All I can tell for sure is they're moving, spreading out. Something's about to go down. Got to be baddies. Who else could they be?"
"All right, SEAL Two, our mission is to create a diversion, shake them up, and let Nichols's chopper teams handle the heavy lifting. Those Apaches can make a man give his heart to Jesus."
"You've got a rog on that, SEAL One. But if we're here to make an impression, I say let's give them a big Navy welcome. Time for a close encounter."
"We came to play. Get—"
A flare blossomed from somewhere up in the vicinity of the vehicles, illuminating the fog into a huge white cloud, vast and mysterious.
"What in hell!" yelled Pease's voice on the radio. "That was farther up. Maybe it's a two-point assault."
"Looked like it was over to the left. Can you tell what happened?"
"Must have been a flash-bang. These assholes brought their own boombox."