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incident, they intercepted a Mayday call by Montoya and impounded the boat within an hour."
    Finn was tall and gangly, his jaw square, his eyes a deep blue, perfectly complementing his ash-blonde hair. At forty, Finn had been in the Netherlands for six months.
    He had been a Commanding Officer in the Australian Navy where he served for twenty years before his government called upon him to serve as the Australian Diplomat before the court. The Australian Prime minister had wanted someone in the Netherlands with military experience. Someone knowledgeable in the ways of all things warfare and international law. Finn was expert in both.
    "That was our last hope then. We reconvene in two days Dick. With no evidence of radiation leakage above IAEA standards we're done. And so is that entire area."
    "Maybe not. Montoya stated that he had discovered something in his Mayday call.
    He requested another archaeologist head out to investigate. The USS Kitty Hawk was en-route from Sydney to San Diego stopping in off the coast of Tahiti to airlift in a SEAL team who were training. When the Yanks heard the Mayday call they dispatched the SEAL Team to the area. I guess they didn't want the French to find whatever it is first"
    "So what do we do?"
    "We hope the SEALs go in and kick some arse and then we hope the archaeologist, if she makes it out there, finds something we can use to stop the testing."
    "They have to be keeping that quiet, the French don't like people stepping on their toes, plus they have the Foreign Legion soldiers out there." Dalton said.
    "It's being kept under wraps, I only found out because of my contact in the Navy, he's working on the Kitty Hawk."
    "So we wait then?"
    "And pray my man, and pray."

 
 
    4
 
    On Hao Atoll, one-hundred and seventy miles from Mururoa the Greenpeace ship was anchored just offshore, it rocked gently up and down and in the failing light looked eerily like an old ghost ship whose screams from it's victims seemed to carry on the small waves.
    The French Foreign Legion's 5th RPM (Regiment Mixte du Pacifique) had impounded the boat and were investigating the incident. They had taken Montoya's body to their morgue.
    In charge of carrying out the investigation was a Lieutenant Colonel by the name of Marc Grosjean. Grosjean was a fifteen-year veteran with the Foreign Legion and had spent the last five years stationed on the Atoll.
    He had seen many incidents where crazy environmentalists had gotten themselves into trouble on these surrounding waters, but this was the first time he'd ever taken over a boat where the crew had perished and he was shocked when he had found Montoya's ravaged body lying on the bloodied floor of the bridge.
    For Grosjean, the scene had brought flashbacks of his first year in the Legion where he had found himself on a special-ops mission. He was a few pounds lighter then, and his hair was yet to gray he recalled as he stood on the deck of the ghost ship.
    * * *
    Grosjean had been added to a team of Legionnaires who were to rescue a high-profile French Diplomat who had been taken hostage by a band of Lebanese militia. Their plan was to infiltrate the small town of Ain el Rihani, located just outside the Lebanese capital of Beirut and take the militia's underground bunker, where intelligence had said the Diplomat was being held. What the Legionnaires hadn't expected was to walk into a hail storm of land mines and machine gun fire. Somehow, still unknown to the Legion, the militia had been tipped off and had carefully laid out a trap for the Legionnaire team.
    Grosjean had tried to drink the memories away over the years, but still they held to his consciousness like crazy glue. He could never forget stumbling through the Lebanese highlands while three large blisters the size of French franc coins formed on his feet. He was tough but it didn't matter.
    He later remembered telling new recruits that toughness or size did not count when it came to blisters, "Give me the biggest,